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The Empty Throne: War in the Broken Lands

Hammerstone - Broken Hammer Clan

The journey from the Hammerstone to The Twins along the Rauða River in the summer was a peaceful one and Asger had enjoyed it throughly. The days were long, lit by the sun for the full cycle, and warm, melting much of the towering peaks so that the river ran strong and fast. Here, only a kilometre from The Twins, the river was wide and ran with a noticeable ripple that concealed the jagged rocks below.

The landscape was impressive here, the great peaks had pushed away from the river bank leaving a wide strip of lush grassland on either side that spread to the treeline. The last of the "Hardboxes" was falling away behind them now. Built as resting places for travellers when night fell, these heavily reinforced stone structures built out over the river provided protection from the Pale-men for those seeking to make the long journey from Sea to Sky. Each was provisioned with frozen food and firewood, enough to last a few days at any rate. No one made the journey in the Dead Month when the sun vanished completely from the sky for thirty full day cycles. That was when anyone with an ounce of sense stayed home.

They were sweeping around the final bend now, the river was gentle enough during the majority of the year that you could sail or row the entire length between Hammerstone and The Twins. Here the valley grew even wider, so wide that it would take a full day to cross from one side to the other. In the middle, straddling a narrow point of the river, towered two huge stone pillars, joined high above the water by a bridge built in forgotten ages past.

The Twins. The Ancient Ones fortress, repurposed by the Jotunn, was the furthest north settlement of any note in the Broken Hammer territory. The two pillars of solid granite reared hundreds of feet into the air and the Ancient Ones had carved tunnels, galleries, high windows far above the ground, evidence that perhaps they too had fought with the Pale-ones. The lower hundred feet of towers had been carved completely smooth by some skill the Broken Hammer no longer possessed, so smooth that no Pale-one could find purchase on the surface to climb upwards. Entry to the fortress was accomplished by way of a pair of wooden elevators worked from within the twin spires of stone.

The Twin on the right, the Bloody Twin, so called for a red streak in the granite, had been partially hollowed out in the base with the only entrance facing the water. Visiting vessels could put into the harbour where they could spend the night in safety, their crews in the fire warmed halls above. All loading and unloading of vessels was done on a great stone pier that ran along the riverbank at the foot of the Bloody Twin. During the winter, when the rivers were frozen, the harbour and pier would be left to the Pale-ones.

Asger could see a pair of local guardsman watching him from the Pier and he gave them a wave, which they returned with toothy smiles. Visitors were always welcome here for news was almost as valuable as food. The Ships Master shouted orders and the oarsmen backed their oars slightly as the Dragonship slid gracefully into a spot indicated by a female Jotunn.

"Well met Asger!" She called out, red hair swirling about her blue skin as a cool wind whipped down the mountains in the distance.

"And merry meet to you Sabra!" He replied as he jumped ashore. His cargo on this trip was Blue Coke, a mineral found only at the bottom of the Fjords. It burned with a slightly bluish colour, generated an extraordinary amount of heat and was bright enough that the Pale-ones avoided it wherever possible. He would leave with his boat loaded down with the latest furs.

Asger remained, quietly watching as the cargo of Blue Coke was carefully unloaded and placed into the containers built specifically for hoisting into the fortress. He counted the loads, as he knew Sabra was, for he would receive twice their weight in furs when the time came to leave.

One by one the carts were wheeled to the pace of the Bloody Twin and a crane swung out it's long arm, dropping a carved metal hook that was used to draw the precious cargo upward. It took the better part of the day for all of it to be stored within and Asger passed the time making small talk with Sabra and the others who came and went on the pier.

When the last cart had been stowed away Asger and Sabra each took a stone chit with the number "14" carved in to it. She would give hers to the Stores Master above, and when Asger produced his matching one, he would get his payment.

"Hospitality is given." Sabra stated as she nodded at The Twins and Asger glanced upward. He had nine full days of sunlight left and he wanted to get on his way but knew that his men had earned a rest.

"It is accepted." He replied and his men grinned.

They were separated into two groups and waited as the first elevator lowered from above. It was a sturdy thing, built of heavy wooden planks that could support six of the boats crew at a time. It was not terribly fast however with all the weight on it, and the whole thing creaked as they rose slowly into the air. At length it reached the ledge and Asger stepped off onto the first floor of the Bloody Twin. He and his men surrendered their weapons to the guard and passed through a heavy wooden door reinforced with steel bands to begin climbing the stairs. Already the smell of food and the sound of song reached down to them. It was a fine at The Twins.

The Empty Throne: War in the Broken Lands

@Flagg
The Dawnstarr Mountains: There are Mountain ranges in the Broken Lands, and then there are the Dawnstarr Mountains. Massive peaks that stab into the sky like so many teeth, they are often called the Roof of the World, and it is in these lands that savage beasts, the Broken Hammer, and the Pale-Men wage a never ending war for survival. Reaching from the bitter north right to the Ocean of Splinters and Bay of Storms, the few wide valleys or coastal regions are heavily populated with Jotunn and Humans, while other, smaller, isolated settlements can be found scattered along the coastline the West. Few settlements are inland, and those that are can be found built upon the ruins of the ancient ones. These fortresses of stone and ice often are always built upon solid slabs of Granite, free of even tunnels or caves, suggesting that even the ancient ones waged war with the Pale-men.

The Empty Throne: War in the Broken Lands

Geirlaug Åsmundottir
Jarl of the Broken Hammer Clan

The doorway to the Kings Hall, like everything else south of the Northlands, was made for folk a good deal shorter than Geirlaug Åsmundottir despite it's two wide halves that could easily accommodate a horse drawn cart. She was forced to bend sharply at the waist to enter the hall and the Queens Guards took a visible step back as she straightened to her full height, and then passed one of them her long sword which was nearly as long as he was tall. Then her shield, two axes, and short sax, a blade the length of a regular long sword. They went into the pile with all the rest, no weapons but those belonging to the Queens Guard would be allowed in the Hall. Drunk Broken Landers and weapons did not go well together.

The Hall was filling with other lords as she took a seat toward the rear, looking toward the main dais where the throne sat empty for now. She had come alone, save for the Brazen Sword representative, she drew enough attention without two hulking Jotunn at her side.

Evar Varvudda, Jarl of Sentinel and Master of Askan, was to the right of the throne on the lower floor drinking, but not excessively she noticed. No doubt his desire to become the next High King would be tempering his attitude at the moment, better to have sober allies than drunk enemies.

She stretched out her long legs as she sat against the rear wall. The Broken Hammer Clan would not bring coin, great wealth, or a thousand ships to either side. Their true value lay in their feats of strength and arms. The Broken Hammer had never known a day of peace, waging a constant war with the savage creatures of their homeland and the hordes of Pale-men.

"Mead, m'lady?" A voice spoke at her side and she turned slightly to see a blonde woman offering her a mug of the beverage. The mug was hardly of any size in her hand and she noticed the simple silver band about the girls neck, a household slave.

She grunted her thanks and took the mug, draining it in one quick slurp before passing it back and waving the girl away. It was unlikely they made any drink here strong enough to even put a dent in her sobriety. She continued to look about the hall, trying to remember faces, and preparing for what was to come.

The Empty Throne: War in the Broken Lands

Jarl Geirlaug Åsmundottir of the Broken Hammer Clan

Kingsport, a cesspool of scum and villainy as far as the Broken Hammer were concerned, loomed slowly out of the thick mist that always seems to hang over it. How this city had ever become the seat of the High King, Geirlaug Åsmundottir, Jarl of the Broken Hammer, would never know. It certainly had its perks in a fine harbour, strong walls, and plenty of fine mead, but if you wanted to look around or get outside, there was no point in wasting your time. She had yet to figure out if it was the mist that stank, or the city itself.

Gerilaug was squatting under the rear transom, the small cabin like space set aside for her sole use. An orange curtain, long drenched by the ocean, was pulled across the entrance so only a weak light made it in as pondered her options. Jarl Evar Varvudda had called the Kings Moot and, though the connection was tenuous at best, she had decided to answer.

The High King had long claimed Kingship over the Broken Hammer, a fact that he had backed up with threats of force. But now things were different, already the Kingdom was fractured and with the Pale-Ones pressing against the northern border, well, things at home had changed drastically. If she could not secure the support of a leading clan, then it was possible the Broken Hammer would find their own way.

Already she was preparing for the stares and whispers that would come soon enough. A female leader was rare enough, but one who was twice the height of your average man rarer still. Men tended to either fear her, or profess their desire to give her babies, rarely both at the same time though it had happened.

She pulled aside the curtain and glanced along the exposed deck of the Dragonship. Twenty warriors a side drew on the big oars that propelled the craft into the harbour against the current. Forty men, that was as many as the largest Broken Hammer ship could handle, the great bulk and size of the Clansfolk making it impossible to have a larger ship and still maintain the speed and shallow draft the Dragonships were famous for.

The fortress itself began to appear through the mist as the sun at last began to burn off some of the colder air that clung to the ocean. Already she could see numerous banners and shields hanging from the high walls, many of the clans had already arrived.

She stepped from the transom and straightened up. Her leather armour and war harness, no one with half a brain tried to wear metal armour in the far north, were adorned with a long sword, short sax, two axes and a large round shield that she now slung on her back. She wore no helmet today and her blonde hair had been done up in two long intricate braids that fell down her back.

"Who comes!?" A voice cried from the stone wharf ahead and Gerilaug smiled as she heard the shouted response.

"The Broken Hammer answer the call of the Kings Moot!"

The Empty Throne: War in the Broken Lands

@Flagg @Ashgan

Alright, there ya go, my first shot at map making!

WorldsMostAwesomestMap

The Empty Throne: War in the Broken Lands

@Flagg Well, mad map making skills for the win!!

The weird black snake looking thing is a rough idea of how the DawnStarr Mountains look...

Map

Precipice of War - The Big Leagues of NRP (Only generous tippers need apply)

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June, 1960, Salisbury, Rhodesia
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Constable Michael "Mac" McGuinness opened his locker and sighed, staring at the uniform within. Tan t-shirt, shorts, black loafer shoes, knee high tan socks topped with a blue band, and a tan forage cap with blue band. Very... Simple and plain. The Canadians, now they did it right, with their bright red coats. He was mildly jealous.

"I rather was enjoying the days off. Met a lovely gal from Pretoria." He said with another sigh as he began to shrug off his personal clothes and pull on the uniform.

A grunt came from the next locker over where Constable Mabasa "Sas" Sasa was already buttoning up his uniform shirt. The two had been partners for three years now, Mac had been in Counter-Insurgency before that and Sas had worked in Major-Crimes. As a General Patrol unit they were a force to be reckoned with, both men standing over six feet and well fit.

"I should have joined you then. I had to go to my sisters house for her twins birthday. Why are two year old birthdays even a thing?" Sas replied as he finished buttoning up the shirt and grabbing his duty belt from the hook inside the locker. A holster for his semi-automatic "Weerlig" pistol was on the right hip, two loops on the left side would hold a large flashlight and a wooden "billy-club", and two pouches on the rear held handcuffs.

"Hell if I know..." Mac grumbled as he pulled on his socks and then laced up his shoes. He heard Sas slide a mag into his pistol and rack the action. The Weerlig Pistol held a fifteen round magazine and you always rode with the round chambered. Mac copied him a moment later, pinching the chamber open a crack to ensure a round had been chambered.

The two men finished dressing in silence before making their way toward the briefing room. It was Friday night and things were sure to be hoping in downtown Salisbury as a music festival was getting underway. Despite that, the halls of the Salisbury District One office were fairly quiet this evening, most of the big brass would have gone home and only the beat cops would be out and about at this time. The briefing room itself was on the main floor, just outside The Pit. There would be roughly twenty other officers on shift this evening for District One, which covered the whole of the downtown core.

"Sas, Mac, over here." The two men turned as one to see their Sergeant, a fit black woman named Hannane Ferdjani, striding toward them with the familiar manila envelope she had carried every day for months, the daily assignments and pass-ons from day shift would be inside.

"Sergeant." Sas and Mac both offered her a respectful nod. Hannane was the only black female Sergeant in the Salisbury Police Force and she took her job VERY seriously, this was good or bad depending on who you asked. She had been sent down to District One six months ago to replace a Sergeant shot in the line of duty and few had anything bad to say about her.

"You two are the Brute Squad tonight and I need you out there right now. Forget briefing." She tossed them two sets of keys and jerked her head in the direction of the parking lot.

"Nailed it." Sas said, and the two men high fived without looking at each other. Hannane laughed and offered them a rare grin. "Stay safe you two."

"Always." Said Mac.

"And forever." Said Sas.

Hannane snorted and pushed past the into the briefing room. A storm of noise greeted her as the door opened and then died into silence as she headed for the podium at the front of the room. The door closed behind her and Sas grinned at Mac.

"Dibs driving."

"Fuck." Mac swore. "Why am I always so slow on that one..."

"You white boys never were very fast." Sas said with a wink as Mac raised an eyebrow at him. "You need the practice on your foot pursuits since I outran you the last two fitness tests."

"Sure, and I made you look like a girl in the strength portion." Mac said, flexing two massive fists.

"Alright, I'll drive now then, and when we need someone to bend a steel pipe in half, you can drive."

"Pest..." Grumbled Mac but his tone was humorous, the two men were easy friends and had been since they met.

They headed for the parking lot. Rows of Police vehicles sat in the parking lot, white bodies with blue front doors, hoods and trunks/rear doors, everything from standard four door sedans to Land Rovers. It was toward one of the Land Rovers the two men went. The "Brute Squad" was a term given to a pair of officers who sole task for the evening was to roll around the downtown core, particularly the areas with high numbers of drunks, and move them along. That might mean a quick word, a fisticuffs, or dragging someone off to cells for the night.

The pair approached a Land Rover, the words "Salisbury Police Service" embraced the cities coat of arms on both front doors and hood. POLICE was painted in bold letters on the flanks and rear door of the vehicle. Under the POLICE were the words "Paddy Wagon". This particular Land Rover had a metal cage that separated the two front seats from two bench seats in the rear. Four metal u-bolts were attached to the floor, each of them with four short chains topped with handcuffs. Anyone who didn't want to move along of their own accord could easily be transported by police.

Sas bent down, ducking his head inside the driver side door and grinned at a pair of switches that had been newly mounted on the dashboard. He flicked one of them on and immediately the two blue bulbs on the roof began flashing and blue light filled the parking lot. He nodded, satisfied, and then flipped the other switch. Instantly the scream of the siren tore across the parking lot and he flicked the switch off just as quickly.

"Ah, technology. Love it." He grinned across at his partner who gave him a thumbs up from the far side of the vehicle. The electronic sirens and emergency lights had only been installed during their last block of days off and this would be the first time they got to try the "new toys" out.

"Certainly loud." Commented Sas as the two slid into the car. Their wooden batons went into the holders above the door next to their flashlights, it was impossible to sit with them attached to you. They pulled on their seat belts, clicked them into place and then Mac waited as Sas fiddled with the rear view mirror and engaged the big engine.

"Ready to roll?" Sas asked and Mac flashed him a thumbs up as he turned on the radio receiver mounted just below the light console. Immediately it lit up with the voice of a dispatcher.

"...port four people fighting outside the Village Idiot Club. Charlie Eight and Nine to attend. Any available Paddy Wagon requested."

"And it begins!" Said Mac he rubbed his hands together with childlike glee. Sas laughed and eased the Land Rover out of its parking lot. As he approached the security gate he flipped on the blue lights, the officer inside the security booth giving them a wave as they passed. As the nose of the Land Rover cleared the high brick gateway he engaged the siren.

Vehicles on the roadway slowed, pulled over, or generally just panicked and scattered in front of them as the Land Rover roared out of the parking lot and turned southward.

"Village Idiot is on 10th Street, near 4th Avenue." Mac said without needing to look at the city map they had tucked into the door of the vehicle. Every cop in Salisbury knew where the Village Idiot was, it was notorious for rock and roll music, cheap beer, easy women, and drunk idiots looking for a fight. It also happened to be right on the border of what the locals called "Little Zimbabwe" and "Gas Town", two areas frequented by working class blacks and whites alike. Both areas were part of the District One patrol zone and made up the majority of the call volume on any given evening.

The Land Rover hurried through the darkening streets, swiftly passing other motorists as Sas urged the big engine onward. Traffic lights were still uncommon in Salisbury and the Traffic Officers frantically blew their whistles and halted traffic as the blue lights approached and then flashed through intersections.

District One had always been an interesting place to Police. The demographic here covered all types in Rhodesia. There were blacks only bars, whites only strippers, inter-racial everything, even a gay disco that had twenty four hour Police protection following a brutal murder of two men outside the place a year ago.

The Village Idiot was easy to spot, it occupied the corned of 10th Street and 4th Avenue, a four story red brick building that had once been a hotel. Each floor boasted a different kind of music, any drug you could think of was sold there, and if you wanted to have a few minutes alone, you could still rent an old hotel room kept around for just that purpose for a couple of pounds.

The lights of two other police cars were visible outside the pub club already and four officers, three white and one black, were dragging struggling bodies apart. A small crowd had formed and were yelling encouragement to one side or the other. One of the more foolish souls, a black man in a red shirt and fedora, ran forward and kicked one of the Police officers, Constable Timmermans, who was kneeling on top of a struggling suspect. The officer saw the kick at the last second but still took the brunt of it in the gut.

"Oh no you didn't!" Mac's voice was loud inside the Land Rover as they screeched to a halt. Mac was out the door before Sas had even put the gear shift into park.

Fedora was already retreating back towards his friends and turned just in time to see Mac bearing down him. The man gave a pathetic high pitched shriek and began to run as his buddies burst into laughter. Mac might not be a long distant sprinter but he had played plenty of rugby and was very dangerous over short distances.

"Police, stop!" He roared as he launched himself through the air, tackling Fedora high around the shoulders and riding him to the ground so that the fedora went spinning off as his face cracked into the pavement.

"Geroff me!" The downed man tried to push Mac off of him. Teeth flashed in a savage smile and Mac slammed his fist into the mans kidney, bringing forth a fresh shriek as the man went limp. Mac could hear him gasping for breath between sobs.

"You're under arrest for being a fucking nob, and for assaulting a police officer." Mac growled as he clicked handcuffs onto the mans thin wrists. He stood and lifted the downed man with one hand, half carrying, half dragging the suspect back toward the initial fight scene. Timmermans had managed to cuff his own prisoner and turn him over to Sas and was now walking toward Fedora.

"You..." Whatever else Fedora had to say was cut off as Timmermans buried a fist in his belly. Fedora folded like a Chinese napkin and dropped back to the pavement as Mac let him go.

"Fucker!" Timmermans spat the word at the downed man before nodding his thanks to Mac. "Thanks Mac, We'll take him and our two drunk friends back to District if you guys are going to hang around."

Mac nodded. "Can do. We might as well do a walkthrough."

Timmermans grabbed Fedora and hauled him upright, escorting him to one of the waiting police cars, banging the prisoners head off the doorframe once more before slamming the door shut on him. He gave Mac a wave before jumping into the passenger seat and the two patrol cars sped off toward the District Office.

That left Mac and Sas standing outside the Village Idiot with a dozen or so people smoking, to drunk to be allowed in, and a couple of prostitutes, all of whom gave them a wide berth. The two Constables returned to their Land Rover and pulled batons and flashlights out, sliding them into their loops, before Sas parked Land Rover on the sidewalk. He locked the doors and the two men headed for the entrance of the club.

The building was old by colonial standards, built back when the whites first started putting up "modern" work. Four stories of windows protected by bars, as much to keep people from climbing in as to preventing them jumping out. There were two doors on the backside of the building that led into a small ally where there would no doubt be tricks being turned and drugs exchanging hands, just par for the course really.

Two bouncers stood just inside the first set of doors, both massive black men who offered the police officers polite nods. They were dressed in white pants and black shirts that strained against their biceps.

"Alright Harold?" Mac asked the man on the right, officially he was the head of security for the place.

"Doing well sir." Harold replied with a wary expression. The man was well known for his ability to scrap but he had made the mistake of going toe to toe with Mac four months previously and still had a scar above his right eye from the fight. Since then the two men maintained a cordial business relationship. "Yourself?"

"Just working the Brute Squad tonight, Harold." Sas chimed in. He was not much smaller than his white partner and Harold had seen Sas bare knuckle box a few times, he didn't fancy a donnie brook with either officer.

"Got some new bands in the house I see." Mac gestured to a series of large posters that had been pasted in the deep entryway of the building. "Peppermints... Wilted Roses... and The Evan Catz. Never heard of them."

Harold brightened up a bit at that. He was intensely into the latest music and collected records from all over the world, and when he wasn't breaking skulls at the Idiot he ran a record store two blocks away.

"Yea, the Peppermints are an all female group playing cover songs of the latest American music, on the second floor. The Wilted Roses are a bunch of older folks, playing Jazz on the third floor. And the Evan Katz, well, they're some sort of new age noise I haven't heard before but the younger crowd like it well enough, especially the girls." He shrugged. "Whatever works I guess."

"Alright, well, we'll be inside." Sas said as he reached for the door handle and looked at Mac. "You ready for this?"

"I was born ready!"

Sas opened the door and the two officers were hit with a wall of noise. The main floor of the Idiot was a bar only. Tables of every description were scattered about with any number of chairs pulled up to them. The crowd was a blend of black and white faces, only a few of which even noticed the police officers as they walked in.

A large bar was set against the rear of the room where male bartenders moved with purpose as they filled shouted orders. There was no serving staff at the Idiot. If you got a drink, you brought your glass back or you didn't get another one. To the right there was a line for the washroom, to the left stairs climbed upward to where Mac knew another set of heavy doors helped the various musical inclinations from bleeding into each others noise.

"Well hey there good looking. Do you... you want to arresht me?" A white girl, not more than nineteen, had stumbled up and was stroking Sas's arm. She stared up at him, her eyes slightly out of focus. "Punissh me with your shtick?" She tried to make what Sas could only assume was supposed to be a sexy face before suddenly reeling away toward the bathroom.

"Being so handsome is such a curse!" Sas shouted to Mac who only rolled his eyes and pointed upward. The two officers began to make their way toward the stairs.

The Empty Throne: War in the Broken Lands

Broken Hammer Clan

The Broken Hammer Clan

The Broken Hammer
The Jotunn

Leader

Jarl Geirlaug Åsmundottir, The Klyppr - 'Cutter'

Government

Jarldom ruled by the strongest and wisest of the clan, settled through combat and feats of intelligence.

Non-Human Species Descriptions:

Bloodaxe Clan of Giants
The Broken Hammer are allied with the Bloodaxe Clan of Giants who reside in the mountains to the North of the White Wood. The Bloodaxe are not found in great numbers but they're brutally strong and hunt in the White Wood where they clashed for generations with the Broken Hammer until, roughly a hundred years ago, peace was made in the interest of preserving lives on both sides.

The Bloodaxe Capital is series of large stone structures carved from spires and ridges of red rock in a remote mountain valley. They have no other settlements and rarely number more than several hundred in total. They take great pride in their ability to wield two handed weapons, and engage in great feats of strength that involve the throwing of large boulders, trees and captured enemies.

The mountains they inhabit are home to dozens of savage creatures, giant mammoths, fast and stealthy tigers, shaggy worgs, and numerous troll tribes and species that are forever engaged in battle with the Bloodaxe and Broken Hammer Clans.

A Giant of the BloodAxe Tribe

Stonehorn
The Stonehorn are a massive four legged beast found in the harsher Northern climates. Their heavy fur pelts are greatly prized by Giant and Human alike for the warmth and durability they provide. The Stonehorn gets its name from its skull and the two massive horns that are a part of it, growing outward for a width of up to eight feet. The skull and horns are as hard as stone and impossible to pierce with any edged weapon. Heavy paws, wicked teeth, sharp claws, and a charge strong enough to shatter trees make the Stonehorn one of the most dangerous creatures in the North.

Hammertusk
A Hammertusk is a hulking four-legged beast that strides across the tundra of the North in small family groups of no more than five or six. It is a primordial creature that has survived since a bygone era through sheer stubbornness. It's tusks are highly prized for their toughness and the carvings that can be made from them. Few, however, have hunted a Hammertusk and lived to tell the tale.

The Great Mammoth
You had heard of the Mammoth no doubt, wholly with great tusks and a shambling gait. Well, the Great Mammoth is their cousin, a huge creature that serves as the Broken Hammer's primary mount. Moving in large herds and immensely strong, they can be found all across the North and are a prized animal for furs, and eating.

Dawnstarr Worg
Named for the Mountains they call home, the Dawnstarr Worg is a distant cousin to the common Wolf of the south. Domesticated for a thousand years by the Broken Hammer, they range at large in the wild in packs of five to twenty individuals and are more than capable of killing man and mammoth.

Gorger
Creatures and nightmare and legend, the Gorgers are a creature with a mindless instinct to hunt and kill whatever they can. Living deep in the caves and mountain caverns of the North, they are stealthy and cunning as any man. Thankfully few in number, they are easily capable of combating multiple enemies and eating the corpses of their foes.

Ogres
There are a number of Ogre Tribes that live in the region, most of them isolated in mountain valleys or hard to reach areas of the coastline. They hunt beast and human alike for food and are forever raiding Broken Hammer settlements.

Trolls
A general term used to refer to any bipedal creature that feeds on human flesh, is covered in fur, and can understand human speech. It is believed that the first Trolls were men gone mad in the Tundra from snow blindness and starvation since they are usually found in the darker places of the North. It is unknown if Trolls give birth to live young, or hatch from eggs, since no one is sure if they have male and female distinction, at least none the Broken Hammer have noticed.

Location:

The Broken Hammer inhabit the Northlands, in a region that borders on the frozen tundra, in the aptly named White Wood that stretches from the jagged Ocean of Tears to the savage Dawnstar Mountains. On the map of the region commonly used by Southerners, the Broken Hammer could be best described as inhabiting the peninsula to the East of the Bay of Storms.

Faith:

The Broken Hammer worship two main gods who are similar to those found in the Southlands, though they got by different names in the North. With conflict being such a major part of Broken Hammer life, it is not surprising that the Broken Hammer worship gods who reflect their harsh reality. There are numerous smaller deities, a few of which are note worthy.

Major Deities
Yngvild
The Goddess of Life and Rejuvenation, worshipped during the warmer spring and summer months. To Yngvild they ask for the blessing of life, birth, and enough food to survive the coming winters. Yngvild usually serves as the patron God for those who remain safe at home, farmers, mothers and children. Yngvild is often portrayed as a beautiful woman with long blonde hair, blues eyes, and a heroic smile.

Folkmar
The God of Death and Battle. Folkmar is portrayed as a hulking Broken Hammer warrior, part human, part skeleton. It is not surprising that there is a deity to reflect that harsh reality of the North where many children do not survive their youth, and every day brings new dangers and enemies. Warriors and those who are nearing the end of their life will turn to Folkmar for favour and guidance.

Minor Deities
Asfrid
Goddess of Brewers and Cooks. Portrayed as a large woman with a jolly smile, Asfrid is a popular figure amongst taverns and inns throughout the North.

Ulfheid
Goddess of the hunt. Popular among any and all who hunt the tundra, deep forest, or the oceans for food.

Starri
God of Tradesmen. The work of tradesmen and women within the Broken Hammer is held in high regard. Masons, Carpenters, Blacksmiths, etc. All of these skilled persons are required for the Broken Hammer to survive their hostile homeland. "Strong shelters and strong weapons make for a strong people" - As the old saying goes.

Clan Description

The Broken Hammer are a powerful Clan located in the North of the Broken Lands along the Ocean of Tears. This harsh and cliff strewn region has seen it's fair share of warfare as the Clan wages a never ending war with Pale-Men and the fantastic beasts that live among them. Broken Hammer longships slide from small rocky harbours to wage a savage war of hit and run raids on virtually anyone they can reach.

The Broken Hammer itself gets it's name from an Ancient Ones ship that lies in their principal harbour. The massive hulk, battered by never ceasing seas, bears a great broken hammer on the prow, a hammer that has long since lost its upper half and now lies embedded in the sand on the beach below The Jarls Hall is built into the old ones ship, a great hall of huge timber beams and fine stone work has been added to expand the hull.

The Broken Hammer are noticeably larger than their Southern neighbours, probably as a result of inbreeding with the Giants, Ogres, and even Trolls in the region. Some can reach twice the size of an ordinary human though they are certainly much smaller than the Bloodaxe Giant Tribe. Their skin holds a blueish colour to it, as an evolution to help them survive the ice and snow, or a product of something in their diet, no one is really sure. They wage war with brutal ferocity like all those in the Broken Lands, the strongest among them wielding vicious jagged headed hammers.

Broken Hammer Warrior

Within the Broken Hammer itself is a sub-group that chills even the stoutest of hearts. These men and women look Jotunn enough to first appearance but spend some time with them in the wild and you will see they are anything but. These are the Shanka, or skin changers as the common saying goes. They occur in nature when a Jotunn is forced, through choice, or necessity, to consume the flesh of a kinsman. Some say it is the Horned God who haunts the mountains and seeks new minions to tame but the Jotunn are a stubborn and terrifying race. Where lesser races might eventually give in and full embrace their monster form, the Jotunn are able to control it, moving between skins once a day.

Skin Changer

Clan History:

WIP - Need players!

Regional Geography/Resources/Economy Details:

The Broken Hammer live in a region known as the White Wood, so called for the dense forest that extends from the tundra to the frost bitten south coast. Bordered to the north by jagged mountains and broken tundra, and the South and West by rocky cliffs with small natural openings that lead to excellent harbours. To their West is the great Bay of Storms, an almost perfectly round Bay with a volcano at its core infamous for the storms that spring up without warning. The region is rich in food, furs, iron, and excellent ship-building trees. Luxury items and slaves are rare however, leading to the Broken Hammer's many raids southward.

The Broken Hammer are hardly wealthy but they are comfortable in their region, having learned to live and survive within the limitations placed upon them by nature. That said, they are always happy to improve their lot at the expense of others.

Important Characters

Jarl Geirlaug Åsmundottir is the Jarl of the Broken Hammer Clan. She has earned the title through combat and cunning, as one must to be lead a people like hers. Tall, blonde, with a single sharp green eye, she is beautiful by any standards. Her otherwise stunning visage is somewhat marred by left eye being gone, pulped by an enemies sword pommel during a raid by Pale-Men.

Important Holdings/Territory/Possessions:

The Broken Hammer have two principal settlements, their capital of Hammerstone, built around the Ancient Ones ship at the very end of the Howling Fjord, and The Twins, a fortified city of stone and iron located at the heart of the White Wood. The two are connected by the Rauða River.

There are numerous smaller settlements located throughout the region, none coming close in size to either of the cities.

The Twins

The Twins. The Ancient Ones fortress, repurposed by the Jotunn, was the furthest north settlement of any note in the Broken Hammer territory. Here the mountain valley grows even wide, so wide that it would take a full day to cross from one side to the other. In the middle, straddling a narrow point of the river, tower two huge stone pillars, joined high above the water by a bridge built in forgotten ages past. The two pillars of solid granite rear hundreds of feet into the air and the Ancient Ones had carve tunnels, galleries, high windows far above the ground, evidence that perhaps they too had fought with the Pale-ones. The lower hundred feet of towers have been carved completely smooth by some skill the Broken Hammer no longer possess, so smooth that no Pale-one can find purchase on the surface to climb upwards. Entry to the fortress is accomplished by way of a pair of wooden elevators worked from within the twin spires of stone.

The Twin on the right, the Bloody Twin, so called for a red streak in the granite, has been partially hollowed out in the base with the only entrance facing the water. Visiting vessels can put into the harbour where they can spend the night in safety, their crews in the fire warmed halls above. All loading and unloading of vessels is done on a great stone pier that runs along the riverbank at the foot of the Bloody Twin. During the winter, when the river is frozen, the harbour and pier are left to the Pale-ones.

Relations to Other Factions

The Brazen Sword Clan: To the West of the Broken Hammer, pushed tight against the mountains, is the Brazen Sword Clan, a nation of tribal hill people who owe their allegiance to the Jarl of the Broken Hammer.

Post Catalogue

1. The Jarl arrives in Kingsport
2. The High Kings Hall
3. The Twins

The Empty Throne: War in the Broken Lands

@The Wyrm, So, can our clans be trade partners?

@Letter Bee

Depends where we're located.

The Empty Throne: War in the Broken Lands

@FlaggDone. If you like it, I shall place it in the CS tab.

The Broken Hammer Clan

The Broken Hammer
The Jotunn

Leader

Jarl Geirlaug Åsmundottir, The Klyppr - 'Cutter'

Government

Jarldom ruled by the strongest and wisest of the clan, settled through combat and feats of intelligence.

Non-Human Species Descriptions:

Bloodaxe Clan of Giants
The Broken Hammer are allied with the Bloodaxe Clan of Giants who reside in the mountains to the North of the White Wood. The Bloodaxe are not found in great numbers but they're brutally strong and hunt in the White Wood where they clashed for generations with the Broken Hammer until, roughly a hundred years ago, peace was made in the interest of preserving lives on both sides.

The Bloodaxe Capital is series of large stone structures carved from spires and ridges of red rock in a remote mountain valley. They have no other settlements and rarely number more than several hundred in total. They take great pride in their ability to wield two handed weapons, and engage in great feats of strength that involve the throwing of large boulders, trees and captured enemies.

The mountains they inhabit are home to dozens of savage creatures, giant mammoths, fast and stealthy tigers, shaggy worgs, and numerous troll tribes and species that are forever engaged in battle with the Bloodaxe and Broken Hammer Clans.

Stonehorn
The Stonehorn are a massive four legged beast found in the harsher Northern climates. Their heavy fur pelts are greatly prized by Giant and Human alike for the warmth and durability they provide. The Stonehorn gets its name from its skull and the two massive horns that are a part of it, growing outward for a width of up to eight feet. The skull and horns are as hard as stone and impossible to pierce with any edged weapon. Heavy paws, wicked teeth, sharp claws, and a charge strong enough to shatter trees make the Stonehorn one of the most dangerous creatures in the North.

Hammertusk
A Hammertusk is a hulking four-legged beast that strides across the tundra of the North in small family groups of no more than five or six. It is a primordial creature that has survived since a bygone era through sheer stubbornness. It's tusks are highly prized for their toughness and the carvings that can be made from them. Few, however, have hunted a Hammertusk and lived to tell the tale.

The Great Mammoth
You had heard of the Mammoth no doubt, wholly with great tusks and a shambling gait. Well, the Great Mammoth is their cousin, a huge creature that serves as the Broken Hammer's primary mount. Moving in large herds and immensely strong, they can be found all across the North and are a prized animal for furs, and eating.

Dawnstarr Worg
Named for the Mountains they call home, the Dawnstarr Worg is a distant cousin to the common Wolf of the south. Domesticated for a thousand years by the Broken Hammer, they range at large in the wild in packs of five to twenty individuals and are more than capable of killing man and mammoth.

Gorger
Creatures and nightmare and legend, the Gorgers are a creature with a mindless instinct to hunt and kill whatever they can. Living deep in the caves and mountain caverns of the North, they are stealthy and cunning as any man. Thankfully few in number, they are easily capable of combating multiple enemies and eating the corpses of their foes.

Ogres
There are a number of Ogre Tribes that live in the region, most of them isolated in mountain valleys or hard to reach areas of the coastline. They hunt beast and human alike for food and are forever raiding Broken Hammer settlements.

Trolls
A general term used to refer to any bipedal creature that feeds on human flesh, is covered in fur, and can understand human speech. It is believed that the first Trolls were men gone mad in the Tundra from snow blindness and starvation since they are usually found in the darker places of the North. It is unknown if Trolls give birth to live young, or hatch from eggs, since no one is sure if they have male and female distinction, at least none the Broken Hammer have noticed.

Location:

The Broken Hammer inhabit the Northlands, in a region that borders on the frozen tundra, in the aptly named White Wood that stretches from the jagged Ocean of Tears to the savage Dawnstar Mountains. On the map of the region commonly used by Southerners, the Broken Hammer could be best described as inhabiting the peninsula to the East of the Bay of Storms.

Faith:

The Broken Hammer worship two main gods who are similar to those found in the Southlands, though they got by different names in the North. With conflict being such a major part of Broken Hammer life, it is not surprising that the Broken Hammer worship gods who reflect their harsh reality. There are numerous smaller deities, a few of which are note worthy.

Major Deities
Yngvild
The Goddess of Life and Rejuvenation, worshipped during the warmer spring and summer months. To Yngvild they ask for the blessing of life, birth, and enough food to survive the coming winters. Yngvild usually serves as the patron God for those who remain safe at home, farmers, mothers and children. Yngvild is often portrayed as a beautiful woman with long blonde hair, blues eyes, and a heroic smile.

Folkmar
The God of Death and Battle. Folkmar is portrayed as a hulking Broken Hammer warrior, part human, part skeleton. It is not surprising that there is a deity to reflect that harsh reality of the North where many children do not survive their youth, and every day brings new dangers and enemies. Warriors and those who are nearing the end of their life will turn to Folkmar for favour and guidance.

Minor Deities
Asfrid
Goddess of Brewers and Cooks. Portrayed as a large woman with a jolly smile, Asfrid is a popular figure amongst taverns and inns throughout the North.

Ulfheid
Goddess of the hunt. Popular among any and all who hunt the tundra, deep forest, or the oceans for food.

Starri
God of Tradesmen. The work of tradesmen and women within the Broken Hammer is held in high regard. Masons, Carpenters, Blacksmiths, etc. All of these skilled persons are required for the Broken Hammer to survive their hostile homeland. "Strong shelters and strong weapons make for a strong people" - As the old saying goes.

Clan Description

The Broken Hammer are a powerful Clan located in the North of the Broken Lands along the Ocean of Tears. This harsh and cliff strewn region has seen it's fair share of warfare as the Clan wages a never ending war with Pale-Men and the fantastic beasts that live among them. Broken Hammer longships slide from small rocky harbours to wage a savage war of hit and run raids on virtually anyone they can reach.

The Broken Hammer itself gets it's name from an Ancient Ones ship that lies in their principal harbour. The massive hulk, battered by never ceasing seas, bears a great broken hammer on the prow, a hammer that has long since lost its upper half and now lies embedded in the sand on the beach below The Jarls Hall is built into the old ones ship, a great hall of huge timber beams and fine stone work has been added to expand the hull.

The Broken Hammer are noticeably larger than their Southern neighbours, probably as a result of inbreeding with the Giants, Ogres, and even Trolls in the region. Some can reach twice the size of an ordinary human though they are certainly much smaller than the Bloodaxe Giant Tribe. They wage war with brutal ferocity like all those in the Broken Lands, the strongest among them wielding vicious jagged headed hammers.

Clan History:

WIP - Need players!

Regional Geography/Resources/Economy Details:

The Broken Hammer live in a region known as the White Wood, so called for the dense forest that extends from the tundra to the rain soaked south coast. Bordered to the north by jagged mountains and broken tundra, and the South and West by rocky cliffs with small natural openings that lead to excellent harbours. To their West is the great Bay of Storms, an almost perfectly round Bay with a volcano at its core infamous for the storms that spring up without warning. The region is rich in food, furs, iron, and excellent ship-building trees. Luxury items and slaves are rare however, leading to the Broken Hammer's many raids southward.

The Broken Hammer are hardly wealthy but they are comfortable in their region, having learned to live and survive within the limitations placed upon them by nature. That said, they are always happy to improve their lot at the expense of others.

Important Characters

Jarl Geirlaug Åsmundottir is the Jarl of the Broken Hammer Clan. She has earned the title through combat and cunning, as one must to be lead a people like hers. Tall, blonde, with a single sharp green eye, she is beautiful by any standards. Her otherwise stunning visage is somewhat marred by left eye being gone, pulped by an enemies sword pommel during a raid by Pale-Men.

Important Holdings/Territory/Possessions:

The Broken Hammer have two principal settlements, their Capital of Askasmiðr, built around the Ancient Ones ship, and the Bjarneyja, a fortified city of stone and wood located at the heart of the White Wood. The two are connected by the Rauða River.

There are numerous smaller settlements located throughout the region, none coming close in size to either of the cities.

Relations to Other Factions

WIP - Need more players!