To the southern coast, the Princes of Dardall rule as subjects to their liege lords. Sea lords like the Erastrians, their dormons, and oared warships crush any who would seek naval invasion of that land. Their flagship, The Leon, is a feared vessel. Rumored to be crewed by over a thousand rowers on each side, the ship is a behemoth of engineering, with stone towers upon the deck, which can hail bolts and rocks at any of those unfortunate to be at range.
It is to the east where the desert folk who ride upon humped horses get their reputation. That place is called, The Lands Where No Grass Grows, worthy of such a name. There, sand is the only profit of harvest, and water appears only as a miracle or mirage. The most autonomous region as well, the tribesmen do not dally in the affairs of the royal court, paying little tribute and abiding by no official laws. Many of these tribes have no recorded name, and have never been seen by outsiders; instead, they are just known as The Thousand Tribes Under the Sun. They have no unified government in the desert, often smaller tribes shall war against one another for water sources and land.
In current years, King Alcrius has fallen ill, infected wounds from his spectacle, The Grand Tourney of Roses, where his squire had pierced his side in a practice run. There is tension throughout the kingdom, for his heir, the Princess Edella is too young to rule, and the king’s brother, Prince Ademon, has been filled with a burning flame of ambition. In the countryside, a rogue batch of bandits reave the poor folk, and pirates rule the coast. It will take more than a royal title to save this kingdom from anarchy.
The Holds of the Dradanians
North of the Erastrian colonies in Yennen, a proud and fierce people defied their expansion. The Dradanians, in their tongue, dragon sons, are a wild folk, civilized and enlightened by their neighbors of Erastrian and Ritter culture. To their north, the kingdom of Krivich stands with Boleslav as its trade capital, protected by the nearby sea citadel of Doros’ Watch. To the southern border, the ancient castle known as Dragonscale Keep stands as a sentinel, forged from the flames of such creatures into hardened, solid rock. The line of Princes has lasted for centuries, ruling the kingdom as vassals, to the Golden Horde, a roaming kingdom rumored to be one million strong in fighting force. For generations, the Princes of Krivich have been publicly humiliated and chastised by their overlords, and often the horsemen burn villages and fields if they so please, with the Princes powerless to stop them.
The Lowlands
In the southeast, known as the Lowlands, Clan Silverscale rules, the distant relatives of Dradanians. Less advanced in technology, though none the less in a flourishing and fiercely independent culture. In their great feasting halls and little villages scattered across riverbanks, lush forests teeming with game, and peaking mountains blanketed in soft snow. Here they wage war against Atruitas, the last kingdom of Yennen able to trace their heritage back of Baudoin. Locked in a stalemate for centuries, the war has devolved to little raids along the coast, for the Silverscale have not the political prowess to rally the whole of their people to war.
In their seaside cities, south of Silverscale, Atruitas still thrives, for with time came the building of defenses, and the Silverscale have not passed twenty miles into their kingdom for centuries. Weseso, the twin towers which bear the same name, watch over that northern border, garrisoned by thousands of chainmail and steel clad warriors. There are faint whispers in distant lands that the kings of Atruitas have seen fit to crown themselves lords of Yennen and rekindle the power that was lost so many years ago.
The Sea Fort of Ponar
In the Sea of Stars, along the western border of Yennen, there is a kingdom of Elnish men who sail in ships as large as castles. The Ponari, worshippers of Matuar, god of the sea. They ruled the sea from the frigid north to the warmth of the southern deserts and received tribute from the smaller mainland kingdoms of their people. On the island of Ponar, they built the Sea Fort, a massive complex of jetties and docks that can house near five thousand ships at once.
The Sea Fort holds hundreds upon hundreds of halls, barracks, and towers, making it the largest castle in the world. Once the Ponari terrified the coastline of the Moonlands, waging war against the folk there. The glory has of the kingdom faded in recent years, as whole wings of the castle lay unoccupied since most of Ponar has sunken into the ocean, leaving tiny room for cropland to support a full garrison. Now the Ponari live as rustic fishermen, trading baubles of pearls and shellfish jewelry along the western coast of Yennen, their rich marine history kept alive by word of mouth story.
Hirdland, Home of Wandering Men
East of the mountains in the land of Sodeer, a vassal of Midland, there is a folk who know not of stone walls or thrones. The Hirdlanders move mostly in migrant populaces, resting in large tents sizable to that of a merchant’s country home. Nestled between to mountain ranges, Hirdland is a grassy steppe, where rivers grow strong crops and cattle.
The pattern of these nomadic folk follows the weather, as they move north in the summer, and south in the winter. Though many of their folk cling tight to the old ways, a significant minority has settled in walled towns. The migrant tribes pass through these villages on their southern and northern routes, trading furs and raw materials for goods and minted coin.
It is often a mistake for their western counterparts to depict the Hirdlanders as nothing more than barbarians, as their only contact is with the mercenaries employed in wars amongst their petty lords. Even the bravest of the Hirdmen, still shiver in their beds at the mention of their neighbor, Falkland. In recent years, Falkland has grown fascinated with the politics of their southern counterpart, and some fear they are emboldened to strike with their superior arms and technology.
Falkland, the Black Dragon
Founded by traveling northerners, Falkland was once home to a now long dead race of dwarves, wise in technology, but deprived in all decency. It is a land of extremes in weather and appearance. To the south, the fields are as green as southern Elnish country and twice as rich in soil. The fields are also warmer than most land north, for the mountains shield them from sea’s wind. The mountains the north still spew hot lava which seeps down the mountainsides, turning the soil black and rocky. The north faces of the mountains are also incredibly cold, for the sea winds of Vaal blow without mercy in their freezing howls. Upon the peninsula, which prods into the northern sea, the Black Forest, a name which breeds misconception. The Black Forest is as green in the summer as any, and orange as any in the fall. It is in the winter, when the leaves had died and withered, that the black bark of the colorful trees is revealed; hence the name was given.
Brosta, first king of Falkland, was the first to colonize the dwarven ruins. In their digging, the Falklanders discovered hidden rooms, buried deep underneath the stone. Here Brosta uncovered a massive library, filled with one million tomes of knowledge thought lost to history.
When Brosta emerged from the room, his guardsmen reported that his hair had turned white, and his eyes were filled with tears at the spectacle of the library. Brosta continued the dwarven legacy, unearthing similar rooms in all the dwarven ruins, and continued their scientific practices. Soon, Brosta’s people had gathered and translated many of the works, unlocking advanced technology never before seen. The Magi and shrines to the gods were cast out, with iron effigies of the Great Sciences, Urgar of Heavens, Zergar of Earths, and Algar of Waters, put up in their place.
Brosta founded two cities, in the likeness of dwarven architecture, Novce and Strovska, and rebuilt the dwarven halls of Belabis and Kovo. At the end of his rule, the whole of Falkland had been rebirthed in the power of the ancient dwarves. Their cities of iron and stone grew in magnificent splendor with each passing king, and their armies swelled with soldiers more akin to iron golems than men.
Ethics dwindled in the kingdom, not between Falklanders, but for the outside world. With such vast technology, it became apparent to the Falklanders they were the greatest civilization, brought into existence to destroy all lesser ones. Now the
y act as overlords to the southern-lying folk of Hirdland, and the isles to the north, where islanders fear the banners of the Black Dragon.
Now the king Zlava the Ever-Crowned rules with great ambition. His predecessors had grown fat and lazy, the foulest vices in Falkland culture. Brandishing an iron crown, Zlava ordered that it be molded to his head, forever sealing his authority as king. The call for knowledge and power drive the king onward, onto Hirdland, where he begins to exert his sublime authority over those he deems his lesser.
Emford and Verid, the Knight and the Sorceress
To the south of Lorine, there is a powerful kingdom of Elnish men, Emford. Snug in the mountains, it is a loose collection of local lordlings who swear fealty to the lord of Emford. Well versed in metallurgy and warfare, they are a deadly, though smaller force than most. The kings of Emford have often waged war against their neighbors, attempting to seize more cropland, for the dirt is arable in Emford.
Once a land bridge connected this kingdom to an island, Verid. Verid was a Ponari kingdom, not ruled by king or queen, but by a council of wizards. Separate from the order of magi familiar to the rest of Yennen, these wizards and sorceresses owe no allegiance to crown and do not abide by limitations on magic. Great feats of such power were demonstrated at this oligarchy. Whole mountains shifted, the sky and sea could be parted by the wave of a man’s staff.
Argyle the Foolhardy, king of Emford, sought to bend these wizards to his will and invaded many hundreds of years ago. The war went well for him at first, baiting the forces of Verid into an ambush along the forested land which once connected them. It was all for nothing. Argyle marched his full host through this bridge, thinking he had crushed the Verid in total. The sorceress, Jelina, took vengeance for the death of many of her people. Throwing herself from those cliffs, she evoked the darkest magic in the world with human sacrifice. When her body struck the jagged rocks, a storm which no other storm has since matched in utter destruction, came upon that bridge and plunged it into the sea. Argyle and his army were destroyed, swept below the raging water. A white peace was made between the two nations, now separated by an eternal storm which rages to this day, known as the Sea of Madness.
The Age of the Lion
The Taming of Nacia
In the southern lands between the Green Mountains and The Golden Court, Elnish men who allied and mixed with Erastrians built a great court in the city known as Nacia. Its founder, Hadrian, the Bold, born the youngest son of Adémar III, was spared the slaughter of his kin by the lesser nobles who grew greedy for kingship. His mother, Dulia, fled to the golden country of Eln, where the summer appears as every season. Dulia is the truest hero in Nacian culture, praised for her tact and shrewdness; the values held dearest by her people.
At Nacia, Hadrian’s mother Dulia married the local king, a bedridden old man, with no male heir to his name. Hadrian was brought up at court, about thirteen now, learning diligently and ambitiously. From his tutors, the knowledge of the world and battle, and from his mother, the cunning, and pride that came with his ancestors.
Hadrian ascended to the throne of Nacia, which stood as a small community next to neighboring tribes of Elnish culture. Knowing that his legacy relied on conquest, Hadrian set out and tamed the lions of that land, assimilating his neighbors into his culture and territory. Hadrian had come to power with many Erastrian courtiers his age and decreed that they intermingle and wed the Elnish folk he had conquered. Their offspring became the new culture of Nacia, neither wholly Elnish nor Erastrian.
Hadrian’s descendants were surrounded by enemies, for to the south, the kingdom of Ridiga was powerful and wealthy, ruled by the warlord Axterix. To counterbalance this, King Horace the Brilliant, great-grandson to Hadrian, wed himself to Axterix’s daughter, Kyla, fair skinned with hair red as blood, with the temperament to match it. Horace was reportedly terrified as he traveled through the wild kingdom to claim his wife, for the men there were savage with painted bodies. When he had come to Becculi, the capital of the realm, he and his escort were thrown by a mob off their horses and dragged into the longhall. He was thrown upon a table, and he feared they would tear him limb from limb. Then Axterix appeared, bellowing a mighty laugh. This was no killing; it was a traditional wedding feast. Horace was placed next to his bride upon the table, and sacred ceremony bound the two. In Horace’s personal memoirs, the late imperator takes much light humor to the event, “When I arrived, I feared myself doomed to die, only to find a fate worse than death, marriage.”
With this new ally, the Nacians doubled the size of their legions. These Becculi levies were vital as heavy auxiliaries in campaigns against Nacia’s greatest foe, the Lyrielians. Not painted savages as the Becculi had been, these were Elnish folk trained in the art of war and strategy, with iron swords and iron shields. They came from the isle off the western coast of that country, known now as Barbany, known for its many castles of white marble. For three generations, Nacia waged an indecisive campaign, until the fated Battle of the Cliffs at Cispam.
The Battle of the Cliffs at Cispam, the great triumph of the young King Aeolus, sealed his title as Aeolus the Gambler. The Lyrielians had come up from the beaches along the central shore of Nacia, and placed themselves on the cliffs of Cispam, in numbers two times that of Aeolus’ force. When the two armies locked, Hadrian’s right flank began to route, quickly giving ground to the Lyrielians. Aeolus himself saw this, dismounted his horse, pick up a shield, and joined his men in the right flank. The title gambler came from his next move, in which he called all the reserves and supply wagon guards up from the back, and into the right flank. If this failed, Aeolus would have lost his entire army.
This bold gamble would prove to be the saving move of the battle, and soon Hadrian’s right flank folded over the center, and ultimately overwhelmed the Lyrielians. His center and right pushed the Lyrielians to the cliff’s edge. The Nacian army sent their foe screaming to the rocks and water below. With this battle won, Aeolus secured the western border of Nacia, bringing numerous tribes and towns to his support, as well as the island of Lyriel, which he renamed Barbany.
By Aeolus’ death, Nacia had near ten times its original landscape and came into a golden age of peace for the new Nacian Empire, ruled by the Lions of Erastrian and Elnish blood. Trade and culture flourished, and whole cities sprouted like new flowers in the springtime. Great monuments, both to man and to Nacia itself, were hewn from marble and iron, sealing an eternal legacy in stone.
The son of Aeolus, Cato the Magnanimous, was overburdened by his forefather’s legacy and found himself and his council wading through extreme gluts of corrupt and inefficient bureaucracy. To remedy this, Cato established the Senate, to administrate his sprawling realm. Cato further renamed his title to Imperator, for as king implied he was equal to foreign rulers, an insult Cato refused to bear.
For many generations, this empire thrived, expanding through the north all the way to Lorine, where they established some smaller colonies such as Gessex, in the north of Glanfech, which still bears a few functioning bathhouses. It was in Glanfech that the Nacian people learned the culture, mathematics, and art of the Hlútrian, or Elves as known in the common language of man.
But with absolute powers comes the absolute of problems. The tower, meant to ease the role of government, had grown fat and lazy, ruling as petty kings in their provinces. No longer did the senate work for the people, but for their personal coffers.
Furthermore, years of bad harvest led to a sharp decline in trade and economic growth. Over the course of many decades, the Empire of Nacia began to fade, until the day barbarians sacked the sacred city.
The Imperators of Nacia soon found themselves employing whole armies of barbaric mercenaries from the north, who fought in exchange for fiefs and landholdings in the golden land of Nacia. The strongest of these factions, the people of Essaroth, united their settled tribes and overthrew the boy Imperator, Caligula. The Essaroth were not pleased with mere conquest, they also laid waste t
o Nacia and the countryside, destroying centuries of art and culture.
Now the Nacian have fallen, their imperators, now dubbed as common kings, rule only an isle to the east. From the city of Vindorium, the latest king, Lucan, rules as an odd character. Never actually intended to rule, Lucan is the younger brother to Vespasian, who had been physically impaired, meaning he was unfit to serve as the holy ruler of Nacia.
The young Lucan has many personal issues, which he must hope to resolve if he has a chance of ruling his kingdom properly.
The Age of Many Kings
The Modern Kingdoms of the North
After the collapse of Nacia, the old alliances and subjects of the lion faded, leaving power vacuums across Yennen. At this time, Lorine, Midland, and Belfas came into being. Lorine was claimed by the former governor of that Nacian province, a man by the name Adalfarus, ancient ancestor to King Oswine. Midland went to the Crawes, the power merchant family from Kruithia and the other Elnish kingdoms. Belfas however, remained wholly untouched by Nacian rule, and thus is governed by a Witan of lords who owe no allegiance to a specific king.
The Prophecy of the Black Elk
In Zelphi, the southern land closest to Erastrius, several fortresses and cities had been established. The king of these lands, Rogbert, had come to hunt in the Zelphine Forest, known for its gray trees which appeared as though they had been turned to ash in a burning flame. While on his hunt, Rogbert and his host were blinded and collapsed to their knees from a blazing light. From the forest, a huge elk, black in coat and with glowing eyes, had come before them.
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