Hidden 11 mos ago 11 mos ago Post by Chenzor
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The Levogh

(Representing color is "Crimson" according to the guild's textcode.)

The Wilder Elves of Levogh were once rulers of a mighty civilization, a kingdom that stretched from coast to coast in a faraway land. They were not known as "Wilder" Elves back then. At their apex, the Levon (now called Levogh) were dark elves commanding mighty armies, sorcerers of great power and cunning lords that commanded respect and wealth. No one remembers how they were cast out, but eventually the kingdom fell. Some say to inner political struggles, other say it was a curse, a third account even suggests a cataclysm tore their land asunder. Either way, they were forever changed as they left their broken homeland. Now, a thousand years later, not much is remembered of the old ways. Their culture, language and looks have changed. They no longer wear draping robes of magnificent colors or decorate themselves in wealthy jewelry. They no longer command mighty armies of the finest weapons and armor. They are now more akin to woodelves than dark elves, but have clung to their ruthless and ambitious traditions. Neither dark-elf nor wood-elf, the elves of Levogh adopted for themselves a new name - Wilder Elves - and have made a new home for themselves in the forests far away from their cursed land.

Race: Elves. A mix between Dark Elf and Wood Elf, granting them the somewhat insidious traits of the Dark Elves but without the powerful armor and weapons and mixing it with the wild culture of Wood Elves, granting them cunning and knowledge of the land but not the druidic talents or 'peaceful' nature.

Capital: Wildhome

Ruler: King Célebron Blackeye

Type of Government: Tribal/Light Feudal

Religion: WIP

Geographical Location: (Not yet confirmed)
Hidden 11 mos ago 11 mos ago Post by Pyromaniacwolf
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Hidden 11 mos ago 11 mos ago Post by Bright_Ops
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The Mustaqilun Tribe

Represented Color: Purple
Race: Orc
Breed: Blackskin Orcs
Capital: Riverforge
Ruler: Warchief Rukdug the Hunter

Type of Government: Tribal Tyranny. Traditionally, the orcish society that the Mustaqilun Tribe broke away from favoured rule by strength; The stronger, cunning and more brutal you were, the higher in society you could potentially rise and expect to survive the promotion.
While the Mustaqilun Tribe could be considered somewhat liberal by the standards of other orcs, they do respect strong, competent leadership and the only alternative government that they have seen in action is monarchy which doesn’t appeal to them; While the leader who founds the kingdom is generally someone to respect by orcish standards, a few generations on and you tend to get poor leaders unworthy of the power they’re ‘born with’.

The Mustaquilun Tribe doesn’t have a religion per say; The closest thing to a ‘god’ that the tribe had in the past was their former lord and master, a being of great power that ruled orcish kind through might and fear. While the Dark One had a cult dedicated to him that worshiped him as an almighty being, the Mustaquilun Tribe (and quite a large number of other orcs) viewed him more as the biggest, strongest of bosses rather than as a deity… and considering that they broke all ties with their former master when they took to the seas, their opinion of him is rather low.

They are superstitious through, performing small rituals and offerings in their day to day lives to ‘spirits’; A hunter might make a small offering before going out on a hunt for a good hunt, while a blacksmith might perform small rituals occasionally in order to keep the spirit of his forge in high spirits while wading off misfortune.

The history of the Mustaquilun Tribe started fairly recently. Originally the orcs stationed at the oceanside port fortress of Nomar, the orcs of Nomar spent their days producing weapons and equipment for the seemingly endless armies of their distant master, the Dark One in his campaign against the other races and kingdoms of the land.

The Dark One was a cruel, unforgiving and demanding overlord, uncaring for the pain and suffering of minions and slaves alike as long as his orders were met on time. His requests kept the forges of Nomar burning at all hours of the day and night in order to try and keep up with demand.

It was hard to say exactly when the uprising among the orcs of Nomar began; they all hated the Dark One and the lives that they were being made to live, but their fear of him tended to keep any actual spirit of rebellion quiet… at least, until they no longer had anything to lose.

The forges were sabotaged by slaves from one of the distant nations their master had waged war with, breaking almost all of them down in such a way that it would take months to get production back up to the levels that it had been before, let alone start meeting the Dark One’s quotas again. The Dark One wasn’t known for his patience or his calm temper; in the past when a production site had fallen behind to the same degree as Nomar had just done, he had the fortress purged of its current workforce before repopulating it with a fresh workforce to get it operational again.

The orcs of Nomar were doomed… so they decided to take a gamble.

It began with the death of the former Warchief, Pash the Glutten. His failure to prevent such a devastating slave uprising due to neglecting his duties as Warchief of Nomar was deemed to be the source of the orcs impending doom and thus he was executed by his replacement, Rukdug the Hunter.

With the former Warchief slain and the promise of a painful death approaching, Rukdug came up with a plan to save himself and his fellow orcs... though it came with a price. In order for his plan to be successful, those under his command that zealously obeyed the will of the Dark One as the word of god had to be purged in order to prevent them from hindering their efforts. The night after Pash's head was mounted on a spike, Rukdug and those loyal to him (or at least to their own survival) slaughtered every last Dark One loyalist they could find, with only a handful fleeing into the night.

Led by Rukdug the Hunter, the orcs used what production abilities they still had access to in order to build ships. They took to the seas, abandoning their homeland completely in favour of escaping their master’s wrath and creating new lives for themselves elsewhere. Breaking all ties with their former master, the orcs of the fortress of Nomar decided to band together in order to form a new tribe; The Mustaquilun tribe.

Hidden 11 mos ago 10 mos ago Post by AdorableSaucer
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Orr'gavol: The Hammersworn

"The souls of the Hammersworn are like the fires of industry - everburning, never fading."

Nation/Clan/Kingdom/Tribe Name: Orr’gavol: The Hammersworn.
Represented Color: Orange
Race: Dwarves
Breed: Ironbeard
Capital: Gol’kharumm
Ruler: Foreman Osman Slag

Type of Government:
Worker Council. The nation is divided among ten crafters’ guilds, which each specialises within a single region of metalcraft, called the Unions. Each union has one representatives on the Worker Council, which is overseen by an elected foreman, the current one being Osman Slag of the Union of Steel. The foreman themself rules for a period of ten years, and holds executive power on the council - while the Union representatives have the ability to check the foreman should they disagree. However, this form of checking power is rarely exercises due the dwarves' natural value of respect for authority.

While the nation as a whole does not hold a standardised religious belief, several of the unions hold on to ancient traditions, many of which feature gods and spirits. The faith of the Union of Bronze, for example, constructs a world image based on balance between two elements, whether it be copper and tin, wealth or poverty, or life and death - leading many of the other unions to critique them for being indifferent to the world at large. The Union of Gold worships all that glitters, so to speak, channelling their faith into adorning the armours and weapons created by the other unions with decorations that rival even the work of the gods - all to one day win the favour of the very gods they challenge.

The many religions within the Hammersworn have on numerous occasions spawned conflict among the Unions; however, due to a fear of rebellion, the council is reluctant to forbid the practices. This has created a generation-long divide on the council between the traditionalists and the “world-eyes”, so called for their denial of anything they cannot empirically observe and their stark hatred for anything abstract.

Geographical Location:
The Hammersworn have long lived at the foot of the Golumnar, “the Ancestor Mountains”. As the centuries passed and many conflicts, but internal and external, took their toll on the earlier civilisations, the Hammersworn were forced further down towards the lake of Darr and the Darr river. The event known as the Calamity, which ended the period of great prosperity after the Reunification, lead to a colossal population collapse and the loss of almost all infrastructure. The capital of Gol’kharumm, now a mere shadow of its former self, carves a fading black scar of soot and ruins from the foot of the southern Golumnar, through the Ancestor Woods, and into the Darr river. The dwarves moved further south, to the edge of the Ancestor Woods. They founded the Hovel, a temporary holdout until spring comes once more.

To think that such a system of compromise would arise from a people so stubborn is truly a truth we all accept too lightly - a day did not pass that our forebears did not plot each others’ deaths. Now, we are united.
Calendarmaster Yosof Rust, Union of Glass.

In the beginning, there was the Golumnar, the Ancestor Mountains. Taller than any other, they stretched into the clouds and seemed almost like great stone beams that grounded the heavens to the earth. While the calendarmasters and several of the unions disagree today on how the Hammersworn first came to be, they agree that one day, a tribe of dwarves settled by the foot of the Golumnar, claiming a small patch of land in the river valley of Darr beneath the mountain. These dwarves created a culture of mountain worship, believing that the very gods of this world lived among the peaks of the mountains. This faith soon led to an event that would shape the dwarves’ culture for centuries to come.

At the time, they were known as the Gol’ungyr, the children of the mountain, and the philosophy of the time was that their very purpose in life was to reunite with their forebears at the highest peak of the Golumnar, and their daily routine revolved around mining and carving in the mountain to build the Umnastarr, the ancestor stair, a pathway up into the world of the gods. Under the guidance of the then-ruling monarch, who has later been referred to as King Holek the Mislead, the children of the mountain dug and built an elaborate system of roads, stairs, ramps and tunnels up and through the treacherous mountains, all to reach the pinnacle.

The project was, however, never completed. Fifty years after the king had ordered the project to start, a winter unmatched in cold and storms ravaged the river valley of Darr. The crops were devastated, and the animals that didn’t freeze to death were soon slaughtered and eaten by the starving dwarves. In the chaos, an insurrection against king Holek resulted in a thousand of deaths, roughly half the population at the time, as well as the execution of the king. The following monarch, Popomel, declared the Umnastarr project an unholy sacrilege against Golumnar, and that the winter was a warning to all who dared climb too close to heaven. Any attempt to surmount Golumnar was declared heretical and punishable by death, and the children of the mountain remained in the river valley of Darr, attempting with great difficulty to repair their decimated civilisation.

Popomel’s line did not rule for long, either. The dwarves were stagnating, for without a greater purpose in life other than to survive, they grew agitated and restless. Fights and large brawls grew more and more common, and merely a decade after Popomel’s grandson, Popomel the Second, has been crowned king, a rebellion once again raged through the nation. The king and his family were slaughtered and replaced by an unstable dictatorship ruled by ever-changing strongmen. The kingdom soon split into two, then four, then finally ten. Each faction migrated throughout the river valley of Darr, settling in the many ridges and caves at the foot of Golumnar and the forests around the Darr river. From here, some factions found great mineral wealth in the mountains - they began working the metals and minerals into tools, armour and weaponry. These factions soon became prosperous crafters’ enclaves, forming great industrial towns. Other factions discovered the minerals and gems of the earth and in the waters of the Darr river, and began to shape these into intricate jewelry and tools of research and science, forming hubs of alchemy and craftsmanship. To make room for the growing towns, the dwarves levelled many acres of forest, which left them with heaps of wood. This was soon used to dabble in ship crafting, and soon growing settlements of trade formed along the Darr. The relationship between the river dwarves and the mountain dwarves remained sour for hundreds of years, sometimes escalating into skirmishes in the forests and acts of sabotage against infrastucture. However, this also applied to the river and mountain dwarves among themselves.

This age of division, yet prosperity, ended when yet another gruesome winter surged through the river valley. The dwarves who held up inside the warm forge-towns, half of which were often built partly inside the mountains, survived the winter without sustaining any losses to their populations. The river dwellers, however, were nearly annihilated by the storms. The Darr froze and made trading for food impossible; the woods were nearly chopped to the last tree to feed the dying embers in the dwarven hearths. It was at this point that the river dwarves, in their desperation, returned to the mountains to seek refuge with their long antagonised brethren. Among the five mountain cities, none would accept river dwarves into their homes.

Desperate, the river dwarves banded together and laid a suicidal siege to the smallest of the forge-cities, Gol’kharumm. The mountain dwarves, drunk with hubris and arrogance, decided not to fight back against the attack, nor to post sentries at night, stating that to waste arrows on their brethren would be like stabbing a butchered boar. The river dwarves used this to their advantage and used their knowledge of alchemy to craft explosives that blew the gates of the city open. Once inside, they overthrew the local strongman and quickly assumed leadership of the city. The other forge-cities quickly heard the news and mobilised against the river dwarves.

When the entirety of what had once been the Children of the Mountain were locked in a battle against itself, the winter, as if by the gods’ command, turned to the warmest, lushest spring ever seen in the valley of Darr in but a few days. The dwarves, awestruck by this seemingly divine gift, laid down their arms and came together in the centre of Gol’kharumm to discuss what the future of their nation should be - should they split up and live as they now had for centuries? Should they band together and take over the whole valley? Should they migrate further south in search of new lands to settle?

A council with representatives from every city of the old nation formed to oversee the restoration of what the winter and the war had taken away. This council quickly became more organised and efficient as time passed, taking more and more power away from each individual city. After merely five years, the council had gathered so much power than it effectively become a new centralised government. In order to make itself even more effective, once every ten years, a member of the council would be elected to rule as a leader and make the executive decisions in the name of every major city. As the cities grew ever closer, the borders faded, and the citizens of these former cities started to refer to their kind as a Union, as they were only united in culture and specialisation. As there had once been ten cities, so spawned ten Unions. These were named according to a major mineral component of their crafts. As the leader then became the head of many workers, and was supposed to be a leader among equals, and not a king, their title was changed to foreman.

Everything seemed to indicate that the now dubbed Hammersworn were developing into a nation to rival the continent's greatest. Tools, weapons and armour flowed from the forges and anvils like water through a lake, and the calendarmasters and alchemists mapped the stars and the properties of the earth. However, as quickly as it had grown, the Hammersworn civilisation suddenly faced great losses. The calendarmasters speculate that an alchemical catastrophe occurred in one of the underground universities, which led to a colossal cave-in that demolished all the dwarves had built over the last centuries. The outside cities relied on the materials from the inside, and the few who survived knew they would be beyond saving when the winter would strike again. What remained of the Worker Council gathered the survivors and put them to work, for whatever it was worth.

They are at the mercy of the mountain now.

Below is a list of the ten current Unions.


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The Aedels

Nation/Clan/Kingdom/Tribe Name: The Kingdom of Aefarr
Represented Color:Yellow

Race: Human
Nouns include: Aedelfarr/Aedelfarri/ Aedels

Capital: Waebury
Ruler: King Eric ap Edrin

Type of Government: Fledgling Feudal Monarchy

Religion: Many Aedel clans were converted to an eastern faith that was brought to their home land in a lost age and have since added their own national slant to its aesthetics and philosophies. Theirs is a monotheistic religion. Based around the church of Dow the far god. Dow is revered as the maker of all things and is regarded as being far beyond mortal comprehension.

Dowist Mythos says that after creating the world and all life Dow looked upon their works and was pleased. But Dow is all knowing and knew that they were too powerful to live among their creations, so Dow made their angels to act as the caretakers of creation. Since Dow would never answer a mortal prayer (and it would be the height of hubris to think one's self worthy of praying to them) the church venerated the pantheon of angels act out Dow's will. This pantheon seems to contain an endless number of angels, some named, some not. The angels are often depicted as humanoid in shape but their heads are always bizarre and impossible in shape, being made up of swirls, spirals and other inorganic shapes. Another feature that varies among them is that the more sets of wings an angel is shown to possess the more powerful and high ranking it is.

Geographical Location:(The blue dot on the Eastern Peninsula)

History: These people call themselves the Aedelfarri. They come from a land far to the West. Far across the waves and farther than the eye can see. Their old home land was one of wild forests and foreboding mountains, a rugged land that made a hardy people. It was also a land that was carved up into the territories of clans beyond counting, with family borders that were always shifting like the tide. Most clans were lead by warlords that granted themselves the title of "Chieftain" or "King" depending on each one's whims. This mosaic of tiny kingdoms that would only qualify as a small city in other (more developed) realms were never much to speak of but the Aedelfarri are a proud people and each would shout to the heavens about how their own piece of their ancestral lands are the best of them all.

The Grass Dog Clan claimed an arable bay on the western coast of their old home. Theirs was a relatively gentle existence, where border skirmishes were few and the greatest enemy of their clan was seasonal storms that might threaten their harvests. Yet this was not to last. The Old Lands were invaded and this time the clans did not unite swiftly enough to repel the foreign forces as they had done in the past. This time the external threat was slow and insidious. Small forces that tested border forces and agents that sowed the seeds of doubt that said reason could win peace were sent ahead. So the story goes anyway, most people are too proud to admit that perhaps their nation was weak or slowly destroying itself from within.

This is a story that unfolded like a history essay. One that the average Aedelfarri cannot possibly manage to retell thanks to their lack of education. Kingdoms and faiths have vied for the Old Lands but the Grass Dogs always survived and hung onto their ancestral lands. Until they could not. When the young chief, Eric ap Edrin took the command spear of his clan he say two extreme options. To stand in their lands and fight as they risked a slow and inglorious death against the many wolves at their door. Or to set out across the sea and risk an inglorious death among the waves as they looked for peaceful lands where they might grow strong again.

Lucky for this ragged clan of Aedels they succeeded. Their longships reached the shore of a land similar to the home they left behind. Shallow hulls slid up the beeches and boats were flipped and turned into longhouses. The beginnings of a new home took root in a familiar bay and this clan found itself alone in a new world. Emboldened by adventure and ambition, Eric named himself king and decreed that they would build a new nation, formed from one clan and made whole through unity.

A new Chapter for the Aedels would begin.
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Literally: Ekon the “Patron” or “Giver” Tribe

Represented Colour: Light Green

Race/Breed: Sand Trolls

These trolls are so-called for their beige skins just as much as their tendency to inhabit deserts, steppes, savannas, and all manner of other arid climes. They have great endurance, are not bothered by heat or sun, and can go for many days without food or drink. They are competent builders and have created some of the oldest civilizations in the world, but compared to their other brethren they are very short of stature, comparable to humans. Average strength/speed, cunning, bad diplomacy, high reproduction, can regenerate fast.

Capital: Hunzuu (A small temporary camp)

Ruler: Malak of the Ekon Tribe

Type of Government: Tribal

The Sand Trolls divide themselves into “Tribes”, nebulous groupings that vary from a dozen trolls to just under one hundred per tribe with each being self-sufficient in their lifestyle. The various tribes have followed many different paths throughout time, some of them create small camps around oasis or springs in the desert while others move with their flocks and herds through the harsh sands to survive. Blood connections means nothing to them, loyalty is earned through hard living together not through the accident of birth.

With the coming of the “Flood of Tears” many have been displaced from their lands and old lives. Tribal structure has collapsed as their Chiefs die and their Sand Shapers vanish into the night, those that remain pledge themselves to whoever can provide for their families. The Ekon tribe has flourished in this time, as they had set up camp ahead of the Flood and give a difficult choice to all that ask their aid “surrender wholly to our wisdom or return to the deserts.”

Few refuse, and the sudden surplus of people has turned the Ekon from a minor familial group of a few dozen into a sprawling camp of Sand Trolls, all connected only by their forced loyalty to Chief Malak. Survival comes to those that aid the original Ekon, those that don't are either enslaved, or sacrificed to satisfy Awa's great hunger by the Sand Shapers.

With this influx of people, many new people and ideas have flourished. Where once the Ekon only had to think about a small group, now they have to ponder larger-scale supply problems alongside those dissatisfactions of the newly arrived and the original tribes.


The Ekon have a strong belief that their ancestors still inhabit this world and that death is just another step in their lives. The dead are not quite in this physical world but they do inhabit a nearby place, from there they whisper advice to their descendants and ward them from harm. So the Ekon make regular offerings to “Those that walk out of sight” treating them to fine gifts and to a honoured place at the table to keep their favour.

The three strongest of the ancestors hold a mythical place in this little pantheon of parents. Awa of the Bloodied Teeth, Kushi of the Bubbling Spring and The Great Howler Lwita guard and guide the tribe if properly venerated. For in the harshest deserts only those with ancestors strong enough to aid their descendants survive. It is even said by the Sand Shapers, the priests of the tribe, that in the quietest of nights you may be able to hear the ancestors battling the Marru the other side of the veil to keep their descendants safe.

The Ekon tribe honours the triumvirate with sandstone pillars carved into the likeness of their ancestors masks around their camp while individual tribesfolk carve smaller statues in their huts to their ancestors. The statues of the Bloodied Teeth are places of sacrifice and arterial red that placate Awa's rage and ferocity, while the statues of Kushi always overlook the water sources to keep them pure and flowing, finally the pillars of Lwita are frequently moved as they must be on the highest dunes in sight of the tribe to scare away the Marru, bipedal jackal-like creatures that hunt both the nights and the otherworld to capture Sand Troll and feed on their flesh.


The Ekon tribe and its vassal tribes have developed a ... rugged approach to life. If it can't be: carried by the camels, dug out of a dust storm and survive being smashed over someone else's head then it's not going to last long amongst the rough-and-tumble of Sand Troll life.

Despite a strictly formalised ritual for sharing water with strangers, the Sand Trolls can barely tolerate each other. Resources are amazingly scarce and valuable, and Sand Trolls have a nasty habit of surviving. They hoard what little water they can find and the precious food and would happily beat others into a stupor and bury them neck-deep in the sand dunes.

Though the sands are harsh, and in some cases groups of Sand Trolls can go years without seeing anyone other than their tribe. As such they develop a sense of “Us vs. Them” from a young age “Our tribe vs Your Tribe”, “Family or Threat”. This mentality makes compromise and diplomacy a difficult concept as sharing and politics are usually resolved in the most underhanded manner possible, with a fight between Sand Trolls being considered successful if the other tribe has been beaten into unconsciousness and everything valuable has been stolen from them.

Geographical Location:

Coming out of the Southern desert (the bottom of the map) the Ekon-Danna are arriving between the two mountain ranges.
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