---

A grand priest who dared to approach the older gods on a pilgrimage to the Ruins of the First Kingdom. For the gall, he was cursed. Though, what are curses but blessings in disguise?

The gods saw fit to plant a seed in his mind, a seething, writhing, growing thing. This caused his holy knowledge to grow, but at the cost of his physical strength - and, later, voice. Currently, at age 26 he is so weak that he is effectively paralyzed from the waist down.

When the fruits of this god's touch came to bear, he and the expedition returned to their tribe among the Angaturiz. Upon arrival, it was the will of the gods that all who laid eyes on him and held faith would know the truth of what had happened. He was deemed most holy, and appointed as the ruler of both religion and tribe, forming a theocracy. His first act was to proclaim the Old Gods found in the First Kingdom as the true forms of those they already worshiped.

On the topic of this tribe he returned to. They're Frineveri in nationality, situated in the northeast, with their capital on the fork of the river they call "Uodel" and a few outlying settlements. They call themselves the Angauodethel. They pride themselves on piety, determination, and adaptability. They believe that nothing can be done that can't be worked around or gained from. This suits their size just fine, as they're not remarkably large and their adaptability keeps them afloat even while they have large expeditions sent away.

Those who do not hold the gods in their hearts can be quick to judge him, and these people spread lies about what he does behind closed doors. Of course, these rumors are baseless, and the longevity of the ones who spread these lies testify to that. Consider the effect of a little suspicion on one’s perception of another.

Being a priest, he is literate, a rare talent to boast of. He also is well studied, most proudly in Theology and Philosophy. Were he able to talk, he would be a prominent debater. Though mute, he has found a way to communicate via other means, and this can be considered a talent in and of itself. This works most effectively with Kinn, due to their close bond.

Would you ask those close to Aedthel what he was like, they would cast two separate shadows. Before the pilgrimage, he was lively, full of joy, energy, and faith. He would talk for hours about his studies, were you to let him. After the pilgrimage, he took the atrophy and silence hard. While he did not lose his passion for study, he was not able to speak of it or show others his learnings. No longer able to express the excitement he held, it faded.

Due to the presence on the inside, the mantle of lord interests him little, so a good deal of his political power is wielded and defended by Kinn the Handmaiden. Though the name sounds innocent, his ruthlessness is well known.

As a man of faith, Aedthel owes his loyalty to the older gods who so marked him. As a learned man, he owes his knowledge to script. As a leader, he owes loyalty to those who look up to him. As a dear friend, he owes loyalty to Kinn, and as an acquaintance, he owes loyalty to many more.

Kerenatam is 24 years old. Although the Rhaead consider themselves distinct from the overall Angaturiz peoples, he holds allegiances both to those whom he has been crowned Grand Warlord of, and those that share their blood and sinew with the stones of the mountains and earth of the valley. Tall and built like a warrior, he adorns himself with little that is not practical- his hair cut short to fit under a helmet and his skin bereft of piercings that might tear in combat. A superlative commander and with capable men under his command, Kerenatam is a fearsome foe on the battlefield, whilst also not being entirely useless in discussion. He has a great love for music and woodwork, being proficient in the latter but not the former.

If Kerenatam was a small tribal chief, he would still be young, but not unusually so. For him to be the Grand Warlord of the Rhaead peoples at his age is unheard of- and because of this many believe that it is the destiny of this man to guide the various tribes to greatness under his command. The backing he has from the druids- both in the prophecies they tell of him and his taking of a druid as a wife have done nothing to reduce the myths already swirling around him.

Born to a tired and redheaded mother in the forests of the Rhaead home, his early life was spent not in languid play, but in the harsh realities of life. Despite his father having held a prominent position, his death had left his wife and four children to be expelled from their community, overthrown by an uncle who left them to die. As a child, he spent his time learning how to use a sling, track prey and ride the wild horses that trotted through the scattered trees.

Although his mother worked hard and could teach the young boy much, their lives were still hard. Every failed hunt of his was another day his family went hungry, and in times of desperation he often had to attack from and steal from his own people- unthinkable to most of the Rhaead. When he was caught he would be beaten and shunned, which only served to make his family more desperate as he recovered.

Through these hardships however, a man was forged. In part, this was thanks to the environment, but at the same time something else kindled an ugly flame inside of him. Often, when the family ate well, his mother would tell stories- of what life had been like with her husband and of the fineries that came with such a privileged position. When he finally reached adulthood and left his home he was consumed by a burning desire to overthrow his relative and take back what his family had lost before he was born. Swearing himself to another chieftain’s retinue, he would prove himself rapidly to be a capable leader of men, being trusted with his own group of skirmishers and launching countless raids against his uncle's troops and homes.

Five years later, his spear would drain the lifeblod from his uncle's neck as he finally took back control of his father's tribe, and with his death, his mother and three sisters could return. No longer were they isolated fringes of the society, but instead in the centre, where they could enjoy the life denied to them as they had struggled to survive in the woods. Now at the head of a significant force, and with his previous chieftain having turned from overseer to staunch ally, he would make a visit to the Godswoods, where the oldest trees lived, having started growing since before man had even arrived in the region. There, he met with the druids, who would describe tales of exploits yet to come and victories yet to be won.

It was also here where he met his wife. Perhaps a druid would not be what was expected, but nonetheless the pair would be wed, the rawhide wraps encircling their arms and joining the two together. From there his already rapid rise would turn to a meteoric one, the man coming into his own with ruthless, yet calculated and cunning attacks that left his foes disoriented and overwhelmed, ripe to be picked off one by one. Perhaps if all his foes had come together to overwhelm him they might have succeeded, but instead with every victory his forces would grow larger, bolstered by the conquered tribe's numbers and those of the increasing number of people flocking to his cause.

It was at the age of 22, having been a man for a mere eight years, when he would become the High Warlord. Crowned with a wreath of holly in the Rhaead capital (and the only permeant settlement they had) of Andrelian, he would spend the next two years subjugating the last few tribes that insisted on rebelling.

Yet after all this work, this tireless struggle to unite the Rhead, there now comes a new threat. A ravenous, slaving horde intent on conquering them. Kerenatam will not allow this. He will not allow his work to be tossed aside, his peoples crushed and held in distain as he was when he was a child. He goes to the meeting not to stir up trouble, but to gather support for the cause, with the chants of his blue-painted warriors behind him.

---

The druidess Arlanna, though best known for her marriage to the legendary High Warlord Kerenatam, is a powerful force in her own right. Said by her people to have a rare and potent natural talent for magic, her isolated upbringing has forged little in the form of kinship with the other Angaturiz, though she is fiercely territorial and loyal to her own people, the Rhaead. Her strongest allegiance, though, is to her husband, who she believes is a divine spirit that is destined to bring the Rhaead to greatness, while it is her purpose to ensure he fulfils his.

Some believe that Arlanna never knew her family, and this is the reason why she spends so little time among others. While it is true that the woman that for three seasons carried her in her womb died on the day of Arlanna's birth, and that the man that planted that seed fled his newfound responsibility soon afterwards, this does not mean she did not know her family. Because her mother and father are not her family - they never were.

Arlanna was raised by the druids of the Rhaead, and exposed to their rites almost from birth. At six summers' age, she was assisting the sacrifices in small ways, and by nine, was regularly an active participant. Druids older and wiser than her recognised a unique talent for druidcraft in her that had nothing to do with learned skill or practice. Though Arlanna was reclusive due to her unorthodox upbringing, and so rarely visited the rest of the tribe, word got out, quickly but quietly. Explanations for this power arose, though whether rumours and gossip or genuine truths, it is hard to say. Some claimed that she was born on a blood moon. Others that she stole her mother's life force during her birth, killing her mother but strengthening her. Regardless, the druids made an effort to keep these quiet, while simultaneously taking advantage of this asset.

It was many years later that Arlanna heard tales of raids taking place against a Rhaead tribe by the forces of another. Though she ignored this at first, as infighting in the Rhaead was common, the days turned into weeks, months, and years of conflict, and again and again the same man was leading the attacks. His persistence was certainly noteworthy. Out of curiosity, she attempted to divine his future, and saw a glorious world in which the Rhaead were the undisputed masters of all known lands, and the forger of this great crusade was the same man who at present fought only in petty raids against his uncle. Arlanna made it her life's work to ensure that he lived the future she had seen.

Arlanna made sacrifices in Kerenatam's name. In the final battles leading to his uncle's demise, he would be witness to what were seemingly strokes of good luck - a change of wind blowing an arrow just off course, or a spear breaking at just the right moment. These were Arlanna's doing. And so not long afterwards, the treacherous uncle of Kerenatam ap Tadgh was dead.

Little time passed before Kerenatam's visit to the Godswoods, the first time he and Arlanna would meet in person. By this point, her interest in him had already developed into a fully-fledged, almost religious obsession. Other druids saw her value as an asset for the tribe, but they also considered her extremely unstable (quite reasonably). They encouraged her to marry Kerenatam as they believed that his "destiny" could be more easily fulfilled with Arlanna assisting him in person, as long as her fraying sanity held up. It is likely that they still have a contingency plan that involves her murder, if necessary.

And so in the years since that day, Arlanna has lived in Andrelian, assisting Kerenatam in his conquests however she can. This primarily has meant sacrifices, but Arlanna has also worked in negotiations, counsel, and the management of the High Warlord's territories while he is away. Now having seen 22 summers, she has become an intelligent, potent schemer, but is also entirely apathetic about the fates of those tribes other than her own, while her sanity waxes and wanes like the moon.

Kussaz Fall-staff


Pictured Right

Age: 54

Sex: Male

ALLEGIANCE: Kussaz is a sworn sword of Kerenatam Ap Tadh. Beyond that he owes no vows of loyalty to any tribe, nation, or people.

Profession: advisor, commander, mercenary.

A brief biography of Kussaz Fall-Staff

Transcribed and (annotated by Rikaz, bard and druid)

I was born here in Thraxia. My mother belonged to a Vedatanni tribe and worked as a seamstress for her village. My father was a wandering hero who had passed through my village some months before¹. Growing up was rough, and I did anything it took to help our family survive². When I was old enough to leave, I did. I signed on with a unit of mercenaries headed south to fight for the imperials.

Life was good as a mercenary. We were treated well by the Empire and were highly valued for our obedience and strength. While I never took part in the politics of the imperial bodyguard³, I heard that Thraxian influence in some cases stretched as far as the palace. I spent most of my campaign attached to a "peacekeeping" unit that would go on loan from governor to governor. We killed bandits for the most part, but we also hunted pirates, infiltrated resistance groups (in the north of the empire), and served as hired muscle for town guards. I got to see most of the world in that job, made a fair bit of coin, and laid with about every type of woman you could imagine. While I never learned how to read like the officers did, I made it a habit to try to listen to locals and their stories if they would let me. I speak many languages poorly, but I spoke more than any other enlisted man⁴.

I returned to my homeland at the end of my service. I was still young enough to enter a chieftain's retinue. Now I am a half decent commander, but I’m not touched by the gods. I wasn't born into any great house, I rarely held the fate of men and my hands, and the fate of nations is far above my station. I was posted under the command of the young commander Kerenatam.

Kerenatam was no more than a boy when I met him. But his claim on his neighboring land and his noble birth ascended him to a position of command in the court of his neighboring chief. I was quite fond of this young commander, and made myself useful as an advisor on battlefield, logistical, and troop management matters. While at first Kerenatam was guarded around me, in time the scared boy grew into what could only be considered a conqueror⁵. In a short time Kerenatam has done more to unite the warring tribes than any warlord of the past. While I wouldn’t dare claim any credit for the lads accomplishments, it has been my privilege to witness his conquests⁶ thus far.

Traits: Protective. Honest. Direct. Greedy. Selfish. Stubborn.

Talents: I have a talent for organizing men. A great man can use an army to topple an empire, but a lesser man must be at his side to make sure that the army doesn’t starve along the way. While in my youth I had other talents, at this point in my life logistics and administration are my most useful skills.

Footnotes
1: All evidence suggests that Kussaz's mother was an escort and his father one of her clients. This is due to the fact that Kussaz has many siblings from various stock.
2: This included petty crimes like pick-pocketing and burglary, as these are the only means of income for a young boy of his stature of birth.
3: The Emperor has many bodyguard units, including some entirely composed of foreign mercenaries. In addition to a unit of Eunuchs and a contingent of Slave-Boys.
4: Most mercenaries are not famed for their education, for good reason.
5: Liberator.
6: Unification.

Name: Awyen Salt-Tooth, Chief of Svicnoc, Sea-King of the Vedatanni. Son of King Konall Golden-Forge.

Note: Sea King is a self-styled honorific, and in no way denotes claim over lands of the Vedatanni.

Age: 36

Personality: Awyen is quick to distribute loot, but he is also quick to claim that right. That is to say, he lacks the inhibitions that keep other men safe and on their throne. He is mercurial, spontaneous, and sensual. He seeks out stimulation from foreign cultures, foods, and experiences. He believes in swift and decisive justice, with or without mercy. But with his decisiveness comes impulsivity. Although perhaps not as foolhardy as he once was, Awyen has always been the sort to rush into things.

Appearance: Awyen is missing his left eye, his nose is crooked, and he seems to always squint. He has a broad forehead, and when he laughs he seems to do it all in one great “HA” that is cut short as spontaneously as it began. His eye is grey, his hair red. The nature of his profession robs his hair of it’s vibrance, leaving it a dull salmon orange. He is broadly built and wears a gut at the moment due to his high intake of sodium. By all accounts, he resembles an alehouse thug and not a king.

Allegance: Vows made, Vedatanni Peoples, Svicnoc Tribe, Gods and Demons.

Rank: Chieftain’s Representative

Skills and Talents: Organizing and Motivating men, Tactical and Strategic thinking, Adaptability, Sailing and Navigation. Also, he makes very good stew.

History:


Konall’s family have never been warriors. Like many families in Svicnoc, they had started as humble merchants. Where Konall was different from his ancestors was that he had taken advantage of something they had not: credit. Inevitably ships would sink, crops would wither, and raiders from neighboring tribes would make away with precious silver. Citizens would petition Konall for aid in these times, and he would give it. When the time came to pay their debt either Konall would make his money back and more, or he would receive both slaves and land from the deal. As you can imagine this might make someone very wealthy, but it rarely inspires love or ideas of kingship. Therefore Konall handled his debtors with grace. While he claimed ownership of their assets, he let them retain their freedom. Moreover, he offered them a consistent salary in exchange for their service on their former land. For the average landowner, the security from a consistent income far outweighed the pride of independence, and in time, more and more landowners came to settle with Konall.

The chiefship of Svicnoc gradually became an honorific title. Konall had held a contract with the chief to collect taxes for years, a result of the young boy's fruitless wars and expeditions backfiring. Eventually, when the guards started taking pay from Konall instead of the chief, they replaced the young monarch in a bloodless coup. The adolescent, of course, rode away and vowed revenge. Nothing has come of him yet.

As a chief, Konall continued his commitment to stewardship, and his realm prospered. He paid off raider, hired professional soldiers, and organized an efficient system of tax collection. As his realm became more prosperous other chiefs sought him out. At first, they observed him at work, but they could not understand it. Soon they began sending their sons to learn from him. At the same time, many chiefs sought out his protection from the raiders he had earlier bought off. He had brought relative peace to his peninsula not with a sword, but with an abacus.


In time Konall had two sons and a daughter. Awyen, his eldest son, was born under the sign of the seer. Within the next ten years, Awyen was blessed with first a little sister, and then a little brother. His sister was sweet and full of life. She was gregarious and beautiful. She took after her mother, a member of the Rhaead. Her hair was a bright red and her eyes a piercing green. Awyens younger brother Faeolin was golden-haired with green eyes. He was quiet as a child, but like his sister, he was kind and handsome. Awyen was not handsome, as his mother did not come from the Rhaead, she came from the gutter.

Awyen's mother was not a concubine, not officially. Konall had a habit for taking young women of the tribe to bed with him. One of these young women, the daughter of a fishmonger, was Awyen’s mother. Awyen, however, had his father's eyes, grey with a light green tint to them. While one would think that being a firstborn bastard would carry significant risk, Awyen’s eyes proved that he was descended from Chief Konall. Whispers are a hard thing to stop, and the golden-haired infant boy born to Konall from the Rhaead had the town ablaze with rumors. Where had the golden hair come from? Chief Konall assured everyone that Faeolin was indeed his son and that the townsfolk should love him as his father does.

It was in that way that Konall reared two loyal sons.

Faeolin was a born charmer and the more affluent of the two sons. When he came of age he was often used by his father as a negotiator and diplomat. In one legend, when Faeolin was about sixteen and his elder brother was about twenty, they were both sent to settle a debt that a young couple had accrued while in their tenancy at one of Konall’s farmsteads. The young head of the household rebuffed any claim of Konall’s. While Awyen and the young husband argued about the debt, Faeolin took the young lady aside and explained that the debt needn’t be paid in full now and that any collateral could postpone its collection. The young lady gave Faeolin her silver locket. Meanwhile, Awyen and the young tenant had been about to come to blows in the yard. Faeolin informed them both that the disagreement had been settled, but only after Awyen let the young tenant throw the first punch.

Awyen was the more direct and headstrong of the two. While his honesty was appreciated by most of the hard-working Vedatanni that he interacted with, it got him into more trouble than his brother's charm could get him out of. Where Awyen felt truly at peace was on the sea. When he was a boy his father would take him sailing to Veluz or south along the coast. When he was a young adolescent his father gave him his ship that he could sail with a few unlucky courtiers. It seemed settled, at least among the townsfolk, that the boys would rule jointly with Faeolin directing his father's bureaucracy and Awyen leading his father's trade fleet.

That was until the war. While neither Konall or his sons were warriors by trade, they were nobility among the Vedatanni, and when Nhir attacked it was their duty to defend Thraxia. Awyen and Konall command and rallied to aid the Gisilbards. It was in this war that Awyen proved his worth as a leader of men. Perhaps had the war waited a couple of years Faeolin would have been old enough to handle the emotional shock before him, or had they come a few years earlier Konall may have been physically able to keep up with his army. However an invasion comes when it wants, and the only member of the noble family who was fit to command was Awyen. There were no winners in the last invasion, and no chief dared to march home demanding honors. But with every setback Awyen learned. He was too young a commander to truly make a mark on the war effort, but while serving under other elder chiefs and generals, his bravery and commitment to his men impressed both commoners and chieftains alike. According to one contemporary source he spent every night, no matter the weather, in the same condition as his least equipt man. Once, when sleeping under the stars a soldier from a neighboring tribe approached the warchief and commented that he had no furs to cover himself with when it grew cold at night. Awyen, in response, made a gift of his furs and vowed to sleep outside with nothing but his cloak to cover him.

Upon returning home he was met with betrayal. His brother Faeolin had paid tribute to their enemy. This was in itself not such an awful thing. After all, Faeolin was a boy alone without any army to defend his kingdom. Haven't they always settled things with coin and not with force?

Awyen responded as he always had when his family was irksome. He set sail, but not before declaring to his people that when Nhir comes for them, he will be ready. He found work hunting Nhirinize pirates from Velusian Blood-Barons and spent his time sailing from one exotic location to the next. He made friends along the way. Velusian mercenaries, Thraxian adventures, and Gwidlic raiders were all welcome on his ship. Although he never forgave his brothers betrayal, after a few months he did dock at Svicnoc again to resupply and take aboard new volunteers.
An albatross skull adorns the helm of his ship The Minnow, the mark of a man who has touched the four corners of the world. His ship has been beached on cursed sands and become stuck in ice floats. He has feuded with horse lords and slept in canopies high above the trees. He has sought out treasures and magic alike. It is said by some that he traded his eye with a demon to gain great power over mortals, others say that he sacrifices children to cruel eastern gods of the sea to command waves. Claiming to have seen disturbing visions of a man made of clay turning to iron and rusting, he returns home to consult with his brother about the welfare of the Vedatanni.