The Peoples and Nations of Scalgard

Ceumri

Ceumri rests on the Inland Sea and reaps the green reward of moist winds carrying soft rain. A wide river valley cradled between low hills, the land gives its people a variety they use to the fullest. They mine iron from the hills, and quarry stone; they sift gold from rich deposits in the rivers, where they also fish for salmon; they grow wheat in the soft ground and potatoes in the hard, and hunt game in the forests. Where other nations trade and war for what they need, Ceumri has the luxury of choosing allies based on love and enemies based on hate.

Unfortunately, the people of Ceumri have much to hate. The forests to their north are a surer home for the Fir Bolg than any other, and invasions of the wolf-men mirror those from the giants, who march down from the mountains. Meanwhile, the Tuatha Sidhe have an easier crossing from their realm into Ceumri than in any other land in Scalgard. Orcish raiders have a hard time navigating Ceumri's southern straight, but the lure of gold drives them ever on. And across that straight lies Annwyns' Realm; Brother Worm is not an aggressive neighbor, but who can rely on the will of gods?

These many threats have kept the Ceumri close to home, in small stone-walled castle-cities, a few days' dangerous ride from each other. Keeping them all one people, though, are their Three Crowns - a college of Bards, Druids and Heroes, wandering the land and each standing for one of the three types of people: the skilled, craftsmen and farmers; the wise, herbalists and doctors; and the strong, miners and warriors. The Crowns travel abroad and bring news, judgment and justice to each castle in turn in exchange for hospitality, and gather together in council to unite their people. Both more and less than kings, they are guardians of tradition, an old ritual protection for a land that lives with dangerous magic so near around.

A character knows the following with a successful skill check:

• History DC 20 - Hope in Hidden Springs - Around a small pool nestled in the hills in the Ceumric north an Aelfin warlord, Uldane the Rivers' Son, attracts heroes to his hold. One of the few castle lords to make alliance with his fellows outside the bond of the Three Crowns, who he tolerates on his lands only barely, Uldane is becoming a force to be reckoned with. He has made no move, yet, but the lords of other castle-towns and nearby Fenian clans wait in wonder, and hope that the reckoning he plans is not with them.
• Arcana DC 25 - A Fair, Inconstant Castle - When the morning mists have lately parted on Ceumri's southwest shore, the few, far-ranging shepherds have seen a new castle in the distance, battlements gleaming with mail. Though the castle's gone by mid-day, those same shepherds report the beating of hooves far behind as they turn east and bring their flocks home with the twilight. The castle is almost certainly a Sidhe thing, and the local Ceumric lords seem content to wait for one of the Crowns to wander by to deal with it. But while the Strange Lord who rules the new keep has sent no messenger so far, he, or she, or it may grow tired of waiting.
• Streetwise DC 30 - Uneasy Rests the Crown - It is hard to find hope in a land so beset by darkness, and even the greatest may succumb to despair. So it is with some of Ceumri's Crowns who, seeing total annihilation ahead, have sold some of the Ceumric to the enemy to keep the rest safe. The Fir Bolg sneak in through opened secret passages, the giants come up over unguarded walls, and in the course of a night castles fall. If any knew of their treachery, trust in the whole tradition, and the tenuous unity among the Ceumric that it brings, could come crashing down as sure as those few, betrayed castles' walls.

Dwarves

High in the mountains to the north and west of Ceumri, the dwarves make their homes. The last of the Foimoire's kin, they live lives of strength and industry in sprawling stone castles atop the tallest peaks. Each dwarven castle is a complete community, ruled by a thane. "Thane" is a hereditary title, but long is the dwarven memory, and strong their pride - a son would not last as thane if he did not live up to his father's name.

Though the dwarves' best customers are each other, they are not isolated from humanity. Skilled metalworkers, their forge-goods are in high demand as far away as Thrudvang. But, more, dwarves mix freely with the Fenian tribes. Family branches have lived with the human folk there as long as any can remember, stout and loyal members of the clan they call home. These dwarves travel freely between mountains and hills, living with their relatives in each land and setting aside their rivalries as they move between. This is part of the thanes' law.

The dwarves have no gift for human magic, no love for gods and no ties to the Tuatha-Sidhe, but their oldest thanes have kept alive an ancient lore, passed down from the Foimoire, and rumors say they are the only beings since their forebears left the world who know the rituals to bind enchantment with the power of the runes.

A character knows the following with a successful History check:

• DC 20 - All Wise, Ever Young - When Brokkr, Thane of the Sindri, died in battle with a flight of gryphons and their rimehag mistress, his children fell beside him. His only heir was his brother's son, Alviss, who lived in the Deiran with a Fenian tribe of humans and dwarves alike. No dwarf has ever shirked his duty, and the young thane has ruled his new people with wisdom, and increased their profit and honor among the other clans through expanded trade with humans, but his heart still calls for battle and the wild hills; he gazes from the top of his mountain battlements down to the valleys below, waiting restlessly for the call to war.
• DC 25 - The Kings of Stone Eternal - When a Dwarven Thane nears the end of his life, when his grip on his hammer grows weak and his eyesight dims, he walks with his sons to the hall of his ancestors. There the eldest, who will next be Thane, recites the lineage of their family and makes of it an incantation of power. When he is done his father, the old Thane, is regal and strong again - he has become a thing of stone. Like any other statue, the old Thane waits, dreaming dwarven dreams, blind to the world around him. But should the need arise the Thane's sons can cast the ritual again, quickening stone back to living flesh. In this way, the dwarves secretly preserve the wisdom of generations; hundreds of thanes stay in their father's halls, waiting...
• DC 30 - Forging the Crown of Kings - Goldcraft, whitesmithing, forgework, these are not the greatest of the dwarven arts; that claim is reserved for the rune-lore of the Foimoire. But where the two combine, there is power to be found. On one ancient scrip of vellum, in a library forgotten to almost all, are the plans for the Crown of Kings. If forged, if worn atop a noble brow, its wearers power would be kin with that owned by the Foimoire of old.

Estria

Resting entirely on the sheltered shores of the Inland Sea, flanked by dwarven mountains and with it's back pressed firmly against the Low Countries, Estria has a natural protection from orcs and the Fir Bolg that other lands lack. A mild climate mitigates the harshest weather Mannanan throws down and, combined with a wealth of natural resources and an aggressive desire to trade, this has made the people rich. The only land in Scalgard that could rightly be called a "nation", Estria is filled with farmers who walk their fields without fear. The roads are well-made and better patrolled, and the average craftsman lives in a white-washed wood and mortar home and sleeps the night away with no walls save those and still no fear for bandits or monsters.

But while the single Estrian is safe, his nation struggles on. At the center of Scalgard, Estria is a crossroads for all nations, with none so dependent on trade that the spoils of war aren't a worthwhile gamble. Estria's response to the threat is numbers, and her army drills regularly; though her soldiers are less than the heroes of other lands, they fight in strong formation and can easily outman the common, wild warband.

The Plutarch holds the reigns of Estrian power, and uses the Keepers of the Hoard as the whip that drives his nation on. These tax collectors, trade-police and spies keep the barons honest and carry their advice to the Plutarch. The barons tread carefully, though, for their nobility and the power it entails can be literally bought and sold. The Plutarch's family is, of course, the wealthiest, and though they could theoretically lose their hereditary position should their trading ventures fail, Estria's strict laws governing land and taxes prevent the Plutarch's treasuries from growing too empty.

A character knows the following with a successful History check:

• DC 20 -
• DC 25 - Walking the Halls of Gold - The secret wheel that moves the Keepers of the Hoard and ensures the Plutarch's continued rule is a ritual of fiscal power. Hidden in the Estrian tax codes, secreted away in the Keepers' ledgers, is the formula to move, mystically, a whole person into the Plutarch's treasure vault. This transit does not come without cost, but the Keepers' job ensures that they are wealthy men. The trip, however, is one way; though a Keeper can walk past the many guards and out of the Hoard, the Plutarch is too greedy for a ritual to take anything away again.
• DC 30 - The Plutarch's Other Face - The Plutarch's bloodline has run strong for a hundred years and more; a strange feat for any family in Scalgard, and this family is stranger still, for rarely does the son disagree with the precedent laid down by his father, or even his father's father. This is because the Plutarchs are not father and son, but one man, alive for centuries. No, not a man... A Dragon! The last heir of The Dragon, Itself, the Plutarch has hid himself well and indulged his native greed, happy to remain undiscovered. A good thing, too, for the knowledge at his disposal must surely be vast and his power, if ever it had to be brought to bear, enough to strive with a god's.

The Fenian

Barbarian tribes of the Northwest, the Fenian dwell in the Deiran Highlands. A rocky country of hills and scrub-grass, and nearer the marauding orcs than any other land, the Deiran has made the Fenian a hard people. Far from a cohesive group, 'Fenian' is an adjective, meaning 'wild' in the local tongue, used to describe the various clans that occupy the region. Each clan marks itself unique in patterns of plaid on their kilts and in the colors they paint their faces when going off to war.

Without cheap access to iron, advanced industry has been hard for the Fenian. The people live in homes of stacked moss, piled stones and earth, which they group together in villages and surround with piked fences of fire-hardened wood. The clans live mainly by raising sheep and cows and trading the wool and cured hides to their allies amongst the dwarves and in nearby Ceumri. So vital is this cattle to Fenian life, and so tenuous the trade, that clan war over territory or herd ownership is almost as much a business as the care of the herds themselves.

These small wars, combined with frequent orcish raids, have made the Fenian a fierce folk, proud of personal strength, but also doggedly loyal. They are superstitious, too, both fearing and respecting magic and those who use it. It's a common assumption of the people that those who know magic are of Aelfin blood, and only a true human can rule among them. Thus, their leaders are most often the fierce Berserkers that their clans produce rather than the often wiser Druids or Bards who serve instead as advisers to the lairds of the clans. The position of laird is said to be won by strength of arms, and while often true, this is not always the case. Instead, a laird can be challenged to any sort of competition, be it combat, hunting, singing, or a game of fidchell, with a clan's Druids serving as judges over the challenge.

A character knows the following with a successful Arcana check:

• DC 30 - The Soldiers of Frost and Bone -

The Low Countries

A collection of low-lying land around the delta of three rivers and bordering the northern sea, the Low Countries are, like Ceumri, one of the more resource-rich lands in Scalgard. Unlike that other nation, though, they do not have the natural protection of tall mountains and turbulent waters. As a result, though these lands support a dense population that relies on trade and manufacturing to thrive, it is one of the most war-torn areas in bloody Scalgard. Bordered by Ceumri to the west, Estria to the south, Saesony and Thrudvang to the east and dotted with orcish settlements along the north shore, the Low Countries are really an outpost for other lands' influence, with walled cities being swapped back and forth seasonally between their different armies. Out of these wars arise only two constants. First is each city's Guild, which maintains local order no matter who is in charge; though their loyalty is never to any conqueror, even the orcish northmen have found it easier to leave the guilds be than to replace them. The second constant is banditry, as men flee the predations of each new army and flock together in the wilds, forming rag-tag armies of their own and taking whatever their numbers will let them.

The Low Countries are also the site of mankind's first welcome to Scalgard, and home to their first kingdoms. Though those days are not long gone from the world, the rise and fall of of rulers has spotted the land with a rich history of ruins, ripe for exploitation. Many are the band or noble who, seeking easier work than the taking of a peopled city, have taken one of the ruins for their own and called folk from afar to make it home.

A character knows the following with a successful skill check:

• DC 20 - Steve? -
• DC 25 - Steeeve. -
• DC 30 - STEEEEEVE! -

Orcs

Orcs rarely live on the main continent of Scalgard. Rather, they call a plate of dirt-covered ice to the furthest northwest home. When their population grows too large for their frigid home to support them any longer (or, some say, when they get bored), the Orcs take axe and shield in hand, pile into their longships, and make for a quick raid on any coastal village or city they can find. They strike hard and fast and haul off as much loot as they can fit into their boats, even going so far as to leave behind the bodies of their fallen comrades in order to fit more treasure or, more importantly, food. Occasionally, even a living orc who does not have his fellows' respect will find himself without a ride home from his adventure.

Unlike other races, there are no tales that tell of the orcs beginnings, no songs to be sung of their origins. But while where the orcs come from is a mystery that few care to explore, their actions leave behind dark clues for those with eyes to see. In their raids, orcs sometimes carry off the womenfolk of their fallen foes as valuable plunder. These women become the raiders' wives, as do some women wooed by those raiders left behind and, with time, they bear their orcish husbands orcish children, without a trace of the human showing through their green skin.

Because of their frequent raiding, orcs have become some of the best ship-wrights on Scalgard. Though it is difficult, if not impossible, to find an orc who will freely accept a commission for a ship, many an orcish prisoner will bargain his freedom for use of his skills.

A character knows the following with a successful skill check:

• Nature DC 20 - The Wolf-Sworn Chieftain - Three years gone, even other orcs did not know the name Graggar. He was one of an endless horde, struggling for glory. But one dark raid, he heard a voice of thunder and entered Mannanan's service. Now Graggar's name is whispered on a stormy wind, and his life is strength and carnage. Already, he has slain the captains of his own ship and two more and claimed ships and crew for his service. He has raided towns and spread his name along the coast of the Deiran, and some say he has allies among the wilder, less-scrupulous Fenian. He is building up for something, all know it, but none can yet say what.
• Religion DC 25 - Succor of the Wolf-Father - It seems that storms always nip at the heels of the orcs' raiding ships and their priests, in service to Mannanan are why. A sacrifice of blood and the promise of more calls thunder and fog from even the clearest sky, and cuts away the watchmen's vision that would guard against an orcish raid. Too many are the towns that, even expecting the raid that so often follows the storm, have had the orcs' arrival take them by surprise.

The Raven Banner

The creak of dark leather armor, the rattling of chains and the tattered flag itself, covered over in feathers; these are the signs of the Raven Banner on the march. A loosely bonded collection of brigands and thieves, the Banner is an army of desperate men, mercenaries, and they work for men as desperate as they. The kralj of Volkhov, the warring barons of Thrudvang, villages from Saesony to the Highlands plagued by implacable monsters - each has taken these hardened men into their service, and only most of them have found the price more than their souls could bear. For while the soldiers of the Raven Banner are known thieves, what they take from their clients is petty compared to the mind-shattering screams in the night that accompanies all of their work.

A character knows the following with a successful Streetwise check:

• DC 20 - The Plague Knows No Master - The Raven Queen guides her Banner on the march. Beautiful, pale and black-haired, none can say the land she calls home; she has the look of a Volkhovy at night and a Saeson by day, and her cheeks glint of the Deiran when the torchlight is right. The Queen has no other name she will own, and calls no god her patron and no Fair Lord her teacher. She punishes disobedience with a withering power, but none can name the source. She takes only contracts that promise carnage, and she never lets her army rest.
• DC 25 - Boiling a Cauldron of Hate - Enemies of the Banner have learned that it's better to stand and fight, or even fall on your sword, than to try to ride out the mercenary company's siege. The Raven Queen is not a patient woman. She stands before a great cauldron hung above a strangely crackling fire. Naked and pale, she chants and dances throughout the night. And as dawn approaches and the first cock crows, a distant clatter is heard and all a fortress' men fall over dead. Women wail and shriek over the bodies of their husbands and sons as the Raven Queen turns and leaves, her armies trailing behind her. Then the slain men stand once more and, weapons in hand, shamble after their new Queen.
• DC 30 -

The Red Branch Knights

A renowned band of sorcerer-paladins in service to Nefain's law, the Red Branch Knights are feared for their military organization and their ability to combine the powers of magic with strength of arms. They take their name from the distinctive red color they wear prominently on some portion of their armor (usually an arm or leg), and rumor holds that they're sworn to wear this color in answer to an ancient pact between their patron goddess and a group of Tuatha-Sidhe. The Knights' ability to mix the Sidhe's magics with the gods' elemental might lends credence to the rumor, but less fanciful souls say the knights' red coloring merely represents the blood any skilled knight of their order sheds over the course of his life.

The Red Branch is a band of Free Knights: mercenary warriors who owe allegiance to no king, country, or clan, but who take contracts for any group, so long as those contracts further the interests of their patron, the Maiden of Steel. Though they may fight the man who hired them when the next season turns, they are knights of their word, and have never broken a contract. They draw their ranks from all over Scalgard, but base themselves out of an ancient and sprawling castle in the Hills of the Slumbering Beast, one of the few areas of height in the Low Countries.

A character knows the following with a successful History check:

• DC 20 - Bright, With a Fair Hand - The most promising leader in the Red Branch today is the young Aelfin captain, Garwyn Fairhand. Greatsword clenched in strong hands, he has lead his men in defense of Low Country villages besieged by giants and faced down Saeson drakes without fear, all in the course of two short years. But there is an undercurrent to Garwyn's promise, and his mentors cannot yet say if it is ambition or honor; he has more than once refused contracts the Branch's leaders have assigned him, and given no reason but to laugh and seek work elsewhere. Garwyn is a great knight, but only if the order can rely on his service.

Saesony

Saesony is a land of moors, dark patches of forest surrounded by patches of heather and rolling hills. Home to a wide collection of loosely allied towns and villages, the people of the land are a simple but hardy folk, farmers and millers for generations on ancestral land. In Saesony, no man is a slave, but there is only one king. Or... there was. The last king died in his bed two years ago, and even the wisest bards, wizards and advising priests of Biera couldn't name the cause. Worse, he left behind no wife or heir, and now the dukes watch each other warily from their castles, bargaining over the succession in public and preparing to seize it in private.

Despite these troubles, though, the Saesons are a people given to pageantry. If war comes, it will come with bright banners and the clear call of trumpets. Even the local farmers will turn out to watch in number from the sidelines, confident that they are not the targets of the war. From all of their festivals, the Saesons have grown a strong sense of family and community, and welcome outsiders who would join in. Those who keep to themselves find, instead, a strong willed and wary folk. The peasants may see the inevitable war between their dukes as a game, but when met with outsiders - orcs, fomoire, the Thrudvangir, the Volkhovi and wandering monsters - the situation is far more deadly.

• Knowledge (local), DC 25
• Flags and Twilight Faires - Knowledge (local), DC 25
• The High King's Fate - Knowledge (local), DC 30

Thrudvang

Sons and brothers, sisters and daughters. In Thrudvang, each is king. The father of a generation bestows his lands on his children upon his death, and before their own children are grown they must win land enough to leave behind. Neighboring Saesony is, and Volkhov was, an ideal target for conquest, but both lands are fiercely guarded. Often, it's just easier to war with kin.

A land of deep forests, scattered hills and temperate climate, Thrudvang is cold and wet in winter, hot and dry in summer. The land is rich, but its wealth, like its rulership, must be fought for. Serfs bound to the land work hard the year round fighting for survival against the dark things in the forest and also for excess. Every extra bushel of grain, every extra pig, that a farmer can bring to the table could buy the attention of a burgher, baron or king, and with that attention could come the sword, armor and shield of the landsknecht, and the richer rewards that come from war.

But not all serfs are happy with the struggle. Some look to the men of Saesony and Estria and wish for the same freedoms. They form small bands, landsers, armed with simple spears and armors and what magics they can bargain from the gods (typically Cerithwen), and train in secret for the day they're ready to rise against their kings. What then, none of them have dared yet ask.

A character knows the following with a successful History check:

• DC 20 - Crowns in the Mud - Not all Thrudvanir nobles war with their siblings for land. Some join the clergy of one god or another and seek power through the faith; some do not have the heart to kill their brothers and retire to a small town, with no land to call their own but a farmer's plot. A very few, though, like the brave fighter Sigrun Holdrsdottar, take a stand against it all. Sigrun has left the comfort of castle, handmaids and bondsmen, unlimbered her shield and hefted her hammer in service to a small band of landsers and seeks to end the very real slavery of the serfs and the idealogical slavery of her noble kin.
• DC 25 -

Volkhov

Once, Volkhov was a land of wide, fertile steppes, kissed by the wind and run through with mineral-rich rivers. The long winters were white, pure and beautiful; the summers were long, short and golden. Four years ago, that changed. Foul tempests boiled through the air, springing up from a clear sky in the space of a night. Lightning blasted down upon the plain, razing fields and setting whole towns to the torch. The dead tore their way free of the ground, and stranger things crawled out of the blackness, besides - things even the Tuatha-Sidhe would not claim, with the features of two different beasts mixed together. Gruesome voices bellowed deep into the night, leaving peasants quaking in fear.

Today, Volkhov is a region of sharp mountains, jagged as fresh wounds. Villages huddle in their shadow, cut off from each other, their only glimpse of a larger world the distant and precarious sight of Kyiv Castle looking down from the country's heart. This isolation has made the people suspicious and wary; for worse than the creatures that stalk the storm-tossed night is the force that Chaos exerts on the brain. After all, when madness takes hold, a garrison's arms and armor are far more threat than protection. The Volkhovi are learning chaos' patterns, though, and a lifetime of cheer does not break in only four years. Travelers will still find a welcome, but the villagers never seem to take too long building a witch-pyre when things turn... bizarre.

In all Volkhov, only Kyiv Castle stands guardian against the Chaos. The home of a great Volkovi kralj and an enclave of Mannannan's Stormlords, this is the surest bulwark Volkhov has against the monsters of the night. These heroes fight, almost without rest, to see Volkhov in the hands of man once more.

A character knows the following with a successful skill check:

• Streetwise DC 20 - The Lord of Kyiv Castle - Ivan Tsarevitch is a mountain of a man; tall, strong, square-jawed. But tired. Once he was one of many proud kralj in Volkhov; now the others are all dead, scattered, or poor guests in his lonely castle. Ivan laughs rarely, and sleeps less. Instead, he roams his land by day and night, fighting the creatures that come from the storm and trying, desperately, to stave off his people's madness. He wins small victories, but can never enjoy them, for there's always another village past the next ridge, and the village he saves now will be mad again by next week. Still, Ivan Tsarevitch presses ever on.
• Religion DC 25 - A Disquieting Storm - While most of Mannanan's clergy take up arms and chain, Strannik is armored only in black robes and madness. A devoted cleric, Strannik wanders the Volkhovi countriside, preaching surrender to Mannanan. It's no shock that he can weather the furious storm untroubled, no surprise that he can hold his own against the feral beasts that roam the night, but what's strange is the way the people's fearful paranoia is soothed while he's around. Is this a storm-blessing from the Duke of Thunder, or the natural gift of a charismatic man? Either way, he's quickly winning converts to his cause.
• DC 30 - Wolves in the Night - One dark day five years gone, Ivan met one of the Luminous at the gate to his castle, seeking shelter. But, mistrustful of the mercenary gods, Ivan turned the cleric away. The aging man stumbled out into the night, but he left a curse behind; on the days that his goddess was strongest in the sky, Ivan would become a wolf, and no good host at all to any that he loved. It took a year for Ivan to find the solution; a pact with Mannanan brought in storms, so that Cerithwen was never seen and Ivan was free. Unfortunately, the storms brought creatures far worse, and now Ivan it truly damned.

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Legends of the Phantom World