Zal'Kazzir's Stuff he knows

***EYES ONLY*** This is a specialized "lorebook" of all things that would be immediately available (without skill checks) for the character. Things will be posted as they come up or are asked about. Players other than this character SHOULD NOT read this information.

Players can and SHOULD add to this page the things they KNOW from the stories and events they've been in. Please break it down into the sections noted below - Feel free to add sections as you like.

You may also ask for any information, and based on situation or skill checks that info will/or will not be placed on this page.

---

PEOPLE

????

PLACES

????

THINGS

????

HISTORY

Sarcosans

The humans of southern Erenland, are smaller and much leaner than the big Northmen. They have dark brown skin and black, shiny hair. Their eyes are the deepest brown and set in narrow lids that grant them hard stares when angry and bright smiles when pleased. They paint their skin with herbal salves that bleach intricate, pale designs on their faces, arms, and chests for nothing more than the haunting beauty it creates. They dress in flowing pants and loose robes that offer them both protection from the elements and the freedom they need to ride and fight. Like the Northmen, these southlanders once swore allegiance to noble princes. With the rule of the Shadow, most of these sussars, or sworn riders, have been killed or forced to ride as outlaws. Those that remain are traitors to their own people, and have become soulless and hollow tyrants under the control of the legates and their orc enforcers. By the time the forces of Izrador had reached the southern cities of Erenland, the human armies had been crushed and only a few cities resisted. Cambrial and Alvedara were both razed for their refusal to surrender. Sharuun, Hallisport, and several other cities still stand, essentially as they did before the war. As a result, many southlanders still live in the cities their forefathers built. Unfortunately, the inflated false economies, brutal orc garrisons, and whimsically evil legates that plague these urban areas serve as a constant reminder that, while the cities may still stand, the spirit that built them has been all but crushed. There is hope, however. More and more of the southern Erenlanders have reclaimed the name of their ancestors, the Sarcosans, and have reverted to the nomadic, horse-tribe ways of those proud conquerors. These mobile bands are led by outlaw sussars or their kin and live in small tent villages that pop up in the night and are gone by dawn. Every tribe member is as one with her horse, and no other cavalry matches a trained Sarcosan unit in terms of skill and courage. But even these daring freeriders cannot succeed against those who occupy their lands, 10 times their number of entrenched, well-armed, and wellarmored orcs and goblinoids supported by legate commanders. Knights and princes are therefore forced to live as bandits and renegades, surviving on horse meat, wild game, and the spoils of their raids. They are continuously hunted by the minions of the Shadow and must be careful of whom they trust. Sarcosan riders favor versatility and finesse over brute strength. They wield Sarcosan lances and composite longbows when on horseback. On foot, they often fight with a wickedly curved scimitar in one hand and an inward-curving short sword, called a cedeku, in the other.

Elves

The elves are more like the elder fey than any of the other fey races of Eredane, both physically and culturally. They are a slight race, lithe, quick, and agile. They are all children of nature, and even with their ancient culture and powerful magic, they still live close to the wilds as part of the Great Forest. They are a unified people, allied not only to tribes or family groups but instead to a single royal line that rules over all of Erethor. The racial devotion to their High Queen Aradil is akin to worship, and though there is a large and powerful Council of the Throne, it seldom opposes Aradil’s will. Despite this greater shared history and culture, there remain various subraces of elvenkind, each with its own unique physical traits and ways of life.

Caransil (Wood Elves)

The elves of central Erethor, the Caransil or wood elves, are the most widespread and familiar of the woodland fey. They range from the southern Highhorns, eastward to the Plains of Eris Aman and the Westlands, and south to the Aruun Jungle. Their skin is the beautiful brown of ino tree wood, and their hair tends to be long, shiny, and black. Their eyes are large and dark, and they are the tallest of the elves. They wear a variety of clothes, from the dark and mottled camouflage leathers of a scout’s kit to the sunset brilliance of a courtier’s elaborate silks. These elves live in enormous maudrial, or homewood, trees that have been coaxed to grow in elegant but useful domestic shapes by age-old spells. The Caransil eat mostly fruits, vegetables, nuts, and seeds. They supplement their diets with rabbits and grouse raised in family hutches and with river fish from the Gamaril and Felthera. The wood elves are traditionally the artists, philosophers, and craftsmen of Erethor. They are also the lineage from which have come the greatest sorcerers and battle mages of recent times. Their warriors carry longbows and longswords.

Danisil (Jungle Elves)

These elves of the southern reaches of Erethor, where temperate forest gives way to tropical jungle, are small, slight, and ebony skinned. Historians speculate that they may be the elven line from which the halflings were born. The uninitiated consider the Danisil “feral elves,” but their culture is as sophisticated as that of their cousins. Many of Erethor’s most powerful druids are of the Danisil lineage. Their hair is dark and coarse and typically worn in short dreadlocks. Their eyes are black and so narrow that the whites barely show. They dress in loose shorts and brightly painted vests, but when hunting, they wear only layers of river mud to hide them from both sight and scent. Adults typically adorn their faces and arms with strangely beautiful patterns of ritualistic scarring. The scars are said to frighten away evil spirits. The Danisil live in boa-bil groves along the many small rivers of the Aruun Jungle. Their druids enchant vines to form large slings that suspend their tiny huts high in the jungle canopy. They live off the fruits of the forest but are also cunning hunters. They are good fishermen and use fleets of delicate canoes to fish and hunt along their rivers. The jungle elves have mastered the use of poison arrows and have developed several toxic elixirs uniquely effective against orcs. They also carry wide curved fighting knives called sepi. Izrador’s invaders learned long ago to fear these ugly little blades, but have little need to venture into the dark Aruun; the fell demons of that place fight on Izrador’s behalf without the dark god having to expend a single soldier.

QUOTES, MYTHS, LEGENDS, STORIES, AND BELIEFS

The destiny of the world is Shadow. — Anonymous note penned in the margin of the Academy’s Commentaries

The Hero

All my life, I’ve looked up to Eanos, our village smith. Eanos towers over every other man in the village. In a show of strength, on midsummer's eve, he lifts the round stones in the village square over his head and heaves them a full three lengths of his body. The other men can’t even lift one, let alone throw it.
Eanos is always the first man up when there’s work to be done and there is nothing he can’t fix with the strength of his body and the tools he’s been allowed to keep. The orcs constantly bait him, ready to test their strength against his, but he never rises to their taunts. It’s clear that the local legate despises him, but Eanos has never given him cause to vent his wrath until now.
Four days ago, a traveling tinker came to town bearing news and small items for barter. He had healing salves for burns and red rash that we desperately needed. He offered to give us the salves if Eanos would repair a small chopping axe and a handful of metal tools. Eanos knew the laws forbade use of the forge without permission, but he saw no harm in repairing simple tools. The tinker was a spy, sent to lure Eanos into violating the law. The legate and the tinker, with almost a dozen fully armed orcs, came for Eanos just after dawn. The penalty for his crimes was 30 lashes. Eanos, who could easily snap the legate's neck, walked meekly to the wooden post hammered into the center of the village green. He gripped it while the orcs leaned into each lash. Eanos screamed but never let go of the post. When it was over, we washed his wounds as best we could and carried him to his bed. It’s been three days and he still hasn't regained the strength in his left arm and some doubt that he ever will.

The Covenant

The wars with Izrador spawned many great heroes from all the races. The memory of these champions helps to keep the faith among human insurgents and inspire fey defenders who still battle the Shadow today, and some say the strength they gave in the fight against Izrador persists in the weapons they used.
Aio the Light Foot survived the razing of his village, but everyone and everything he loved was taken that night. Aio was given as a slave to a wealthy legate who wanted a halfling slave to cook his meals. He played the part, but learned to pick the lock on his collar. He stole a knife from the kitchens and snuck into the sleeping orc camps nearby. By the time he left an hour later, there were nine orcs dead in their bedrolls. Aio’s nightly forays continued for several weeks and word quickly spread of his stealth and prowess. Aio himself was eventually captured and executed, yet his blade has found its way into the hands of captive halflings ever since so that they might enact justice upon their captors.

Born and Bred

Couthlin wrinkled his nose at the rank smell. The odors of sweat, blood, and less polite bodily fluids wafted up to him as he strolled on the elevated walkway. The commoners milled about below in their usual mindless herd.
“Civilized!”
The large canine creature preceding him stopped and looked up at him, cocking his head in confusion. The legate frowned and kept walking, yanking on the chain attached to its collar.
“Stupid beast. No, they are not civilized. I was exclaiming in disbelief. Being facetious. Go back to your sniffing.” The astirax-possessed hound obligingly returned to scenting the air.
The legate frowned. It was pathetic that he had to rely on one-way communication with a magic-hunting beast. His skills at dialogue and manipulation would be all but blunted by the time he returned to Theros Obsidia. Asnort from the astirax snapped Couthlin from his thoughts. The canine form was watching a passing figure below, quite intently. Couthlin’s dark eyes.followed as well, noticing a suspicious narrow shape jutting out from beneath the figure’s cloak. Roughly hilt-shaped. “A weapon...magical?” he asked in a hushed tone. The astirax growled in assent.
“Then follow,” Couthlin said eagerly, releasing the chain. “Return to me at the temple when you’ve tracked the criminal to his lair.”
The beast slunk into the shadows and trotted after the offending figure...towards its demise, Couthlin hoped. The mage-hunting beast had been witness to too many of Couthlin’s intrigues and coups. The mercenary it now trailed had agreed quickly to his terms: kill the astirax in exchange for the sword the legate had given him.
Meanwhile, below, the astirax salivated in anticipation. The scent of magic was heavy in the air...not just from the sword, but from at least a few enchanted crossbow bolts. All of them aimed at the walkway above, where his master walked.
Rather, his former master

The Other Lands of Aryth

The peoples of Eredane know little of the lands that lie beyond our seas. Some say the elves of the First Age traveled to all the corners of the world, but even if such legends are true, this lore was almost certainly lost in ages past and was never shared with the wise of other nations. What little we know comes from the records of Dornish and Sarcosan settlers who traveled to Eredane from the eastern continent known as Pelluria in ancient days. Sadly, these records are often little more than folktales and must be held suspect in the light of reason.
From fragments of the Histories of the Old Empire, we gather that Pelluria is a land of greater aspect and extension than Eredane, as
“a youth shall gray and come to infirmity before crossing the breadth of the Kalif’s dominion.”
Even allowing for the excesses of a culture known for its vanity and embellishment, this suggests a vast continent unconstrained by the great oceans that embrace our land on three sides. Nor is there reason to believe that the “Kalif’s dominion” ever covered all the realms of Pelluria. It is known that the Sarcosan Empire conquered the Dornland river valley in the north. It is believed, however, that the fall of the Old Empire in the Third Age had as much to do with a war against a rival power in the east as with internal decay and the loss of its overseas colonies in the west.
The Dorns describe their ancestral home as a land of cold, rugged hills, glacial valleys, and deep, snow-laden forests. In the Sarcosan records, we learn of vast grasslands, endless deserts, and great cities of stone built in the oldest days by the first men of Aryth. The elder races of the fey are unknown in these lands, but the stories speak of stranger peoples that share no blood with the elder fey, of fearsome races that hate all others and feed on the flesh of men. Tales of serpent people and beastmen must be considered little more than fables told for the benefit of wayward children.
— Ilsrid of Highwall, The Lands of Aryth

Prophecies of the Last Age

"I saw that the Host of Heaven was dark and rode no more in the sky. The icy gates of the land of the dead were opened, and the fallen god rode forth with a crown of iron and a sword of flame. His raiment bled the blood of the innocent and he smote all the lands of the world. His form was of fire and shadow, and his name was Sorrow." — Vesra Anu, Prophecies of the Last Age

The Tithe

At dawn the headman woke us and told us it was time. The whole village lined up along the edge of the cornfield, which was strewn with cut stalks and the debris of the harvest. It had taken over four days for all the fodder to be gathered and stored for the winter. Nearby, the sheep and boro pens were full of animals noisily calling for their breakfasts. In the village, the windows and doors of every house were flung open and the hearths were cold; today was the day of the tithe. We stood there, in a line, for over three hours before they arrived. The legate rode in on the lead wagon with his guards; eight wagons in all filed into the village. The headman, head bowed, approached the legate and announced our willingness to provide the tithe to the Dark God. With a grunt and a wave of his hand, the legate dismissed the headman and sent the orcs into the houses and barns. Almost immediately, there were sounds of breaking furniture. I heard screams, and the sounds of people being hurt. I ignored it. It was better not to hear. Women buried their heads in their husbands' chests as they tried to stifle their tears. Then the orcs came and grabbed men to start loading the wagons; it was well past midday when the loading was done. Seven out of ten parts of the harvest were loaded on the wagons. An equal amount of animals were also taken, bleating in fear as they were tethered to wagons for the trip back to the city of Bastion.
When they were done the legate announced the Dark God's blessing on us and commented on the wisdom of our headman for not trying to hide any of the harvest. The legate reminded us that the Dark God only punishes those who are disloyal.

LINKS

http://wiki.rpg.net/index.php?title=Zal%27Kazzir%27s_Response_to_His_Family_being_murdered

http://wiki.rpg.net/index.php?title=Zal%27Kazzir%27s_Difficult_Conversation_with_Mi'Shun

---

PORTAL  |  THE SOUTHIES  |  DURGAZ  |  ERANON  |  ZAL'KAZZIR  |  KYUAD / Bill