Of Barbarians and Civilisation

[Gwaednerth]

While working on my last project, I did some interesting work re-inventing Orcic and Elven culture and society. The Elves became incredibly systematic with lives governed by complex, seemingly ever-changing hierarchies. The Orcs became monument-builders with a close relationship to the past and a fear of that past being lost or forgotten. But how would my Elves and Orcs interact with more traditional versions? That question, plus my thesis research, plus bingewatching Planet Earth resulted in the basic outline of my new world.

The region in which I have set my new world is roughly akin to the area at 60 degrees North latitude, where the taiga meets the deciduous forests. The region is dominated by two small territorial states, one that is primarily Orcic and one that is primarily Elvish. Although the states are theoretically unified wholes, they are actually very porous, and beyond the immediate hinterlands of major settlements, wilder people eke out an existence.
In the Southern deciduous forests, wild elves live a semi-sedentary life. In the winter and spring they remain sedentary, camping in the upper reaches of sap-bearing groves, and in the summer and autumn they break up into small extended family units to hunt, gather, and trade.
In the Northern taiga, pastoralist Orcs rove from one patch of conifers to another to graze their herds of domesticated moose. They move in a roughly clockwise cycle, reaching their northernmost groves in summer and southernmost groves in winter. In the winter, they trade furs with the settled peoples.
Although the nomadic and settled peoples generally coexist, there are disputes both when settled peoples try to clear land for farming or for lumber and when nomadic peoples turn to raiding in times of hardship, or mercenary soldiering in exchange for payment (typically, the Orcic pastoralists hire out to the Orcic civilisation and the Elven hunter-gatherers hire out to the Elven civilisation, but this is not always the case).
Although the region is dominated by Orcs and Elves, there are other groups present as well. In the far northern mountains, Dwarves scrape a living. Mostly, they grow species of fungi that thrive on mineral-rich soil, but they also do a sizeable trade in metal goods with Orcic pastoralists during the summer months.
Halflings monopolise the coasts. They live in holes dug into the cliff-walls of fjords, fishing, hunting birds, and acting as middlemen between the region and traders from more exotic reaches of the globe.
Humans live in dispersed communities throughout the region, generally content to cooperate with whatever group is dominant locally. Though the highest concentration of humans live agrarian lives in and around villages and towns, they have been known to show up anywhere and everywhere.
Gnomes are not indigenous to the region, instead living far to the south. However, their boundless curiosity, entrepreneurial spirit, and advanced technology have brought Gnomic merchants and explorers to the region repeatedly.

More will follow, I'm sure.

[Gwaednerth]

Okay, next up I'm going to talk about some of the cultural differences/similarities between the pastoralist orcs and the citied agarianate orcs.

Orcs are concerned with the idea of persistence. The primary orcic religion is an animistic religion, centred around ancestral spirits and the spirits of ancient, mythic heroes, and so they care deeply about their personal connections to the past and preserving their legacies for the benefit of future generations. However, the pastoralists place a much higher emphasis on the former, and the citied agrarianate orcs emphasise the latter. The pastoralists have a rich oral tradition that tries to preserve as much of their ancestral history as possible. They also have a significantly more mystical religion, with a profound belief that any orc has the ability to commune with the spirits of the past. The city-dwellers have a much more organised, centralised, codified religion, and so their traditions differ greatly. Rather than dwelling on the past, they are concerned with being remembered. They are great monument builders and sculptors, who build in stone and think on a timescale many times longer than their lives. A great statue preserves the memory of its maker as much as of the subject.

Delving more specifically into religion, the pastoralists have a decentralised, mystical, eternal religion, while the citied orcs have a more organised, codified, eschatological religion. In the pastoralist faith, the spirits of the past walk among us unseen. They are everywhere, whispering the wisdom of a thousand generations. The whispers are quiet, drowned out by the tumultuous noise of the mind. Through meditation and intense physical exertion, the mind can be cleared and the spirit realm can be glimpsed. Moreover, certain objects or places can be used to guide the mind through the spirit realm. A geological formation created by the actions of one of the ancient, legendary orc heroes can bring a seeker closer to the spirit of that hero. An ancestral weapon passed down through the generations can be used to contact all those who once wielded it. The stories of the ancestors act both as lessons and as maps to the spirit world. There are shamans, revered in their clans for the ease with which they enter the spirit realm and the precision with which they can traverse it, but the religion is essentially decentralised, and a revelation may come to any devout soul. The religion of the city is radically different. The Book of Heroes, the holy scripture, tells the tales of the earliest orc heroes. But whereas in the pastoralist religion they are seen as ordinary orcs who accomplished extraordinary feats, in the formal religion, they are gods, beyond anything an ordinary orc could hope to become. And above them all are the Five Hero Kings, each representing a new interpretation of kingship. It is believed that when the sixth Hero King is born into the world, the spirits of the Five will fill him with each of the kingly virtues, the ancestral spirits will be reborn into the world, and the virtuous orcs will reign over the world as they once did eons ago. The ancestral spirits are not, themselves, guides, but instead intermediaries between the hero gods and the orcs. Moreover, the ancestral spirits speak only to the priestly class, who hold great power in the city.

Finally, the two societies define space differently. The two societies depend on each other, but they also come into conflict with each other, largely because of how they see space. The settled orcs see space three dimensionally, whereas the pastoralists see it four dimensionally. For the pastoralists, the evergreen groves they graze their moose herds on are inhabited space even when they are not present there. When the orcs rove northward in the spring and summer, they still consider the southern groves to be their land. The settles orcs, however, see those periodically occupied southern groves as a frontier between pastoralist and settled lands. The pastoralists often come south in the autumn only to find that groves have been cut down for lumber and farmland. The result is terrible winter raids in which newly carved out farms are pillaged as revenge for lost pine groves. However, the two cultures generally coexist. In fact, the cities have only the bare minimum standing military, because they typically hire mercenary pastoralists for their perpetual border disputes with the neighbouring elves. These conflicts are also spatially defined. Orc pastoralists have freedom of movement in the orcic kingdom, and often part of the price negotiated for taking geopolitically significant territory is military supplies for the conquest of sites with religious value to the pastoralists, who are unable to make pilgrimages to sites controlled by the elves.

More to come

[Gwaednerth]

On to the elves

Because the nomadic elves live a much less desperate life than the orc pastoralists, raiding is rare. However, the cultural divide between the elves is greater than the cultural divide between the orcs and the differences give rise to frictions.

Citied elves are a somewhat paradoxical society built around the structure of castes and the idea of social mobility. (I will attempt to explain this in more accessible terms, but the easiest way to explain it is that it's the Mughal mansabdar system except that it's decentralised and nobody talks about it explicitly). The basic notion of how this is actualised is that everyone in elven society has a rank. Their rank determines everything: what foods they eat, what kinds of education they can get, what establishments they can patronise, where they can live, who they can socialise with, etc.. However, rank is mutable. Great achievements and excellence in the four elven ideals (virtue, artistry, intelligence/inquisitiveness, and self-improvement) yield increased rank, while failures and deficiency in those areas incur penalties. But this is actually quite complicated. Subtlety and modesty are both important virtues in citied elven culture. Someone who explicitly pursues rank is seen as ambitious and brass, and loses rank. Someone who does things that are beyond their rank is seen as presumptuous. At its best, the system encourages elves to be authentic to themselves and to be the best they possibly can be. At worst, it creates a society of ambitious, two-faced schemers pretending to care about highfalutin things they don't actually appreciate and feigning indifference towards their own rank. Both have about equal success rates.
Religiously, the citied elves follow a hierarchic pantheon of ancient fey creatures and elementals. The head of the pantheon, Caranimathian, is the creator god and the embodiment of the elven ideal. The citied elves construct cathedrals consisting primarily of spires of increasing complexity and delicateness and worship with complex poetry and music that follows mathematically derived patterns that increase in difficulty and complexity as they increase in order. Culturally, dance is also important, and elven court dances are not only very complex (they are set to high-order music) they also require tremendous precision and knowledge of the ranks of all involved, as relative ranks determine spacing and certain motions within the dance.

The nomadic elves have a very different outlook. Their society is sharply egalitarian. It makes no meaningful distinction between genders and races, and though older members of the community are given higher regard than younger members, younger members are respected and given a say in things. The nomadic elves are incredibly inclusive, and frequently form relationships both of romance and of fictive kinship with other groups. Most half-elves are the children of nomadic elves (interbreeding is seen as scandalous in citied elf society, but encouraged as an authentic expression of passion amongst nomadic elves). The nomadic elves generally make camp in the winter, spend the spring gathering saps and making them into a variety of products for use and trade, and travel during the summer and autumn, trading, hunting, and gathering.
Religiously, the nomadic elves follow something more akin to druidism, though some follow elemental deities or nature deities in addition to worshipping and protecting nature. Some practitioners commune with nature, others merely observe and preserve it, and yet others attempt to have a transformative experience of nature that shapes both parties. The nomadic elves have a rich musical tradition, replete with simple but emotionally powerful folk songs. Subjects tend to include work songs, songs of joy and love, tragic ballads (especially about the high price of longevity), and nonsense songs.

The relationship between the elven groups is tenuous. The citied elves are expansionists at heart, far moreso than their orcic counterparts. The citied elves view the deciduous forests as a frontier, and the nomadic elves as the vanguard of civilisation (Cf. the completely erroneous works of Frederick Jackson Turner on the closing of the American frontier). As such, they view it as their mandate to civilise the forest and bring their wayward kin into the fold. Naturally, the result is both furious conflicts over land and a general sense of resentment. Nonetheless, the two rely on each other as trade partners and (occasionally) as allies against invaders. Furthermore, the elven kingdom provides a protective barrier for the nomads, and the nomads provide sap products, which are immensely valuable. The general rule is that they ignore each other in the spring and autumn, trade in the summer, and fight in the winter.

[Gwaednerth]

I'm going to write a bit about the other races soon, but I had an idea that I want to get written down. This is my world's magic system. I stole at part of this from Phoenixphyre, though I have built on it a fair bit.
Magic is divided into three rough forms: Scholarly magic, ritual magic, and intuitive magic. Scholarly magic is a learned, more or less scientific skill. Scholarly magic is largely practical and simple, but it makes up for its lack of awesome power by being readily available to the caster and reliable in its effects. Ritual magic is available to anyone. Although there is an element of learned personal skill, it is mostly like following a recipe. It is time consuming, and can often be expensive or rely on things beyond the caster's control, however it can be counted on to produce reliable, powerful effects. Finally, intuitive magic is volatile and entirely based on the innate character of the caster. It is powerful and easy to use, but it is unreliable and lacks subtlety. An innate caster can easily set a building on fire while trying to light a candle, or even become so emotionally compromised that the magic takes on a life of its own.
Which is where Phoenixphyre's idea comes in. Magic is related to life. In small doses or when carefully controlled, it is roughly equivalent to a plant. But when magics become too powerful, or too frequent, the level of sentience begins to increase.The effects of this can vary. An out of control spell might become intelligent in and of itself or it may give sentience to objects and places around it. For example, a powerful bit of necromancy might create intelligent undead, create a sentient being capable of reanimating the dead, or just imbue the area with a malevolent intelligence that feeds on life and bolsters undead beings.
Within the three general types of magic, there are different approaches to the living magic. One school of scholarly casters, known as the bookburners, refuse even to carry spell books, lest they become imbued with intelligence. They are radicals who believe that magic should be memorised, and that animated spells and those who create them should be destroyed. On the other hand, the school of thought espoused by the wandmakers is that intelligent tools created by scientific application of magic to objects is a boon to humanoid life. Ritual casters rarely bother with anything weak enough not to create life, so their debates center more around whether to create fleeting intelligences that can be consorted with before their brief lifespans end, or to create lasting areas of magical significance. Among intuitive casters, who tend to create more capricious and fickle intelligences, the debate centers around the damage that wild animated spells can cause. Some, such as the Pantheon of Sorcerers, believe it is their mandate to crete life. Others, like the Obsidian Cabal, named for the antimagic-imbued obsidian daggers they use to destroy their creations.

All of these styles and outlooks can be found among the different polities and races of this region. However, some groups have a general preference. The pastoralist orcs believe primarily in ritual magic, and over the years the sites of their rituals have become powerfully magical and tied to communion with the ancestral spirits. However, they are also practitioners of scholarly magic, passed down through the oral tradition. There is a great deal of superstition surrounding this second kind of magic, and it is generally seen as taboo to write or engrave the ancient spells lest demonic spirits be unleashed.
The citied orcs work scholarly magics into their statues and architecture, and it is seen as a sign of great personal skill and virtue if a work becomes the host of an animate spell. Ritual magic is less common, but it definitely does occur, especially those rituals performed by the priests on holy days. Intuitive magic is deeply frowned upon as risky, as runaway animated spells can be damaging to the city, and hence to the legacy and immortality of others.
Citied elves, however, view intuitive magic as an expression of true authenticity. Bards are particularly honoured by elven society and, much as with the spells worked into orcic statues, if a bard's song creates life it is seen as an act of true virtuosity and a blessing from the god of art. The elves have a tradition of scholarly magic, but there is a furious divide between the bookburners and the wandmakers whose rivalry is one of the rare things that disturbs the perfect subtlety of elven society.
Among the nomadic elves, there is little scholarly magic, but they share the belief of the citied elves that intuitive magic is an expression of authenticity. They also use ritual magic to great effect, and the magic has seeped deep into the groves of the yearly sap harvest. Many of the trees have become intelligent, and their sap possesses magical properties.

[Gwaednerth]

The other races really need a bit of fleshing out, so here it goes.

The halflings and dwarves are the most established groups other than the orcs and elves.

The halflings live in small villages carved into the walls of fjords. They are primarily fishermen, but there is also seasonal bird hunting and egg gathering in the summer when the migratory birds come to roost on the cliffs. Additionally, although they are not prone to long ventures themselves, their coastal location and knowledge of the waterways makes halflings the middlemen in nearly all sea trade to and from Falrustam. Because of their role in trade, the halflings are infinitely more worldly than the other races. They tend to be accepting, relativistic, and syncretic. Citied elven elites tend to describe them derisively as "cultural magpies". The halflings tend to respond to this view with infuriating cheekiness. Personal prestige is important in halfling society, and particularly as measured by courage (some would say recklessness). There is no real organisation to halfling villages, which are more or less democratic and tend to be dominated by equal parts wise elders and demagogues who coexist through a miracle of halfling amiableness.

The dwarves, live to the northeast in the blackgnarl mountains. They are astonishingly insular, and hence the only group they really have contact with is the orc nomads, with whom they trade in the summer. For the most part, they are fungus farmers, but the blackgnarls are rich in all manner of metals and the dwarves have a near-monopoly on metal goods. They are also the producers of fabulously intoxicating beverages, the most famous of which is a distillation of psychedelic mushrooms and crimsonwood sap called munterhet. The dwarven zeitgeist tends towards the nostalgic. They were once a mighty people, to whom Falrustam was but an outpost. Often when dwarves are in a storytelling mood, or have had a little too much to drink, they dream of venturing north across the Damned Strait (NPI) to reclaim the ruined fortress of Motte-Morraine. Socially, the dwarves are community oriented and matriarchal.

The gnomes have no permanent dwellings, but their ships are a common sight when the seas aren't choked with ice. They bring strange and wondrous goods from the south, which they trade for munterhet and a few other products. Although profit is appealing to them, most gnomes become merchants out of a profound natural curiosity, and can therefore be found far inland as well as on the coast. (I'm absolutely going to include a gnome anthropologist and/or sociologist NPC in any campaign I run in this world. The opportunity is just too good). Although they generally ask, rather than answer questions, those who have the presence of mind and conversational control to ask gnomes about their homeland, interests, culture, life stories, and so forth will find them quite forthcoming.

The humans are the least concentrated of the races present on Falrustam, and have no polity of their own. They tend to cooperate with whatever group is dominant locally, adapting to the ways and culture of those around them. There is something of a unified human culture, built around subsistence farming, worshipping gods of sun, hearth, and family and fearing gods of cold, famine, and abandonment, and pursuing amiable indifference towards outsiders. Their ways differ only slightly from place to place. In elven lands, the humans may be a bit more formal, in orcic lands they tend to care more about legacy, but all in all they remain consistent. However, there are plenty of humans who leave to truly join other societies.
Most often, they run off to join the nomadic elves. Humans are well suited to such a life once they shake off their sedentary ways, and there is a strong bond of attraction between elves and humans. The humans who leave their farms for life among the elves tend to be Romantics who love adventure, act on passion, and have an appreciation for tragedy. Half-elves are common.
Far rarer is the human who lives amongst the pastoralist orcs. The life of a taiga pastoralist is not one most humans are suited for. Most who try are desperate or exiled, though some join the pastoralists for a glimpse into the famed mystical wisdom of the orcs. Those humans who succeed in pastoralist orc society are afforded considerable respect and may even end up marrying into orc society. Half orcs are rare but not unheardof.
The most ambitious and socially dextrous humans tend to venture to the elven cities. Though they can never attain the highest ranks of citied elven society (somewhat due to the idea that elves are inherently nobler in essence, but mostly just because the citied elves are consummate modernists who believe their standard is universally applicable) humans can rise to comfortable upper middle class existences. In citied elf society, half-elves are seen as immensely shameful. They are illegitimate, incapable of earning rank or owning property, and parents of half-elves can be publicly shamed, fined, and even forcibly sterilised. As a result, they are incredibly rare, and those few who are born tend to flee to the more accepting nomadic elves.
Ambition of a different sort draws humans to the orcic cities. Whereas the desire to live comfortably and occupy a social position above others brings humans to elven cities, it is humans who wish to be remembered and to make a mark on history who join the orcs. The human quarters of orcic cities are never quite so grand as the main part of the city, but nonetheless, statues of the human gods and of human folk heroes preserve the names of those who crafted them. It is rare, but some humans even become accepted into heroic status by the citied orcs. Citied orcs are more concerned with legacy than with racial purity, and it is in the orcic cities that most half-orcs are born.
Halfling villages are not often inviting to humans. It's nothing whatsoever to do with the halflings themselves, who are agreeable, accepting, and get along particularly well with the humans. Rather, the humans simply have difficulty living in small caves carved into steep cliffs. As a result, humans who live among the halflings tend to construct dwellings along the base of the cliffs. As a result, humans are expected to show their courage in other ways if they want to truly be accepted. That said, humans provide useful services to the halflings in unloading ships, fending off wild animals, and other tasks where size and strength are advantageous. Humans with a penchant for thrill-seeking or who wish to be more worldly are often drawn to halfling society. Half-halflings are theoretically possible, but there have been none in living memory, partially due to the de facto segregation of the two races into high and low dwellings.
Humans are almost unheard of among the dwarves. The dwarves are insular as a society, and great care must be taken to secure their trust. When they do take in a human, the reasons are often inscrutable, and wild rumours abound. The rumours range from the bizarre: dwarves are incapable of reproducing among themselves and require human mates, to the sinister: dwarves eat the flesh of humans to appease dark, subterranean gods, but are never boring. In reality, humans who live among the dwarves are treated well. Most of the humans who seek out the dwarves desire comfort, security, and simplicity in a more stable version of the subsistence agricultural life with which they are familiar.
Finally, there are two groups of humans to be found amongst the gnomes: the northern humans of Falrustam, and humans from strange, more equatorial lands. In both cases, the humans tend to be drawn by the promise of unfathomable riches and the pleasures such money can buy. The gnomes tend to frown on such greed, as they view exploration and inquiry as far worthier rewards and wealth as pleasant bonus (even then, the tendency is to spend it on educational activities rather than creature comforts). However, the humans make themselves useful, which keeps the gnomes' grumblings to a minimum.

[Gwaednerth]

Now that we have the main groups, we need some monsters.

The world beyond the warmth of the hearth fire is a terrible wilderness of biting cold. Most creatures cannot survive in such harsh extremity. Some, like the pastoralists, manage to survive by moving constantly, trading strategically, and working together. But others lead a more sinister existence. Generally, those who are heinous enough to be cast out into the cold starve and freeze, but there are some things too malevolent to die. Some say that the monsters are a natural ecological phenomenon, but they are in the minority. The common belief, transculturally, is that the monsters that prowl the silent snow howling with the wind are born of the distilled spite of beings so twisted that the elements cannot kill them.
To the north, beyond the damned strait, dwell the giants. Living in solitary noyau social structures, they tend to be encountered alone, though where one giant walks, another will surely follow. Giant raids are rare, but they come with the devastating force of an avalanche.
Other creatures lurk in the forests: Yetis, lycanthropes, and ice hydras all pose their own dangers. Although most such monsters are viewed much as deadlier versions of wild bears and wolves, the ice hydras are viewed as particularly dangerous, and even the most courageous tend to flee before them. Yetis, on the other hand, are often hunted for prestige and for their thick, warm hides.
Many who die in the region rise as undead spirits, eternally seeking food and warmth. Though they are dangerous, and some are quite insane, savvy travellers know that they can usually be appeased, repelled, or put to rest.
Finally, often spoken of with a mixture of wonder and fear are the faeries. Stories abound of beautiful nymphs tempting mortals off the beaten track. Those who fail the chase often freeze to death. Those who succeed are never seen again. All fey are dangerous, but those clever, skilful, and lucky enough to survive an encounter with them can come away with many gifts of magic, inspiration, and treasure. In villages, it is common practice to leave out nightly offerings, lest the faeries become offended. Offended faeries have been known to burn, steal, lame, spoil, kill, abduct, and rape amongst other, lesser revenges.

[Gwaednerth]

History of Falrustam

Geological formation of the island (mostly unknown in the present)
Long ago, the continents of Glasveld and Sarkarmiz were joined in a single huge supercontinent. However, as the supercontinent drifted north, it encountered a mantle plume. Over time, the plume pushed against the continental plate and caused continental rifting, driving Glasveld and Sarkarmiz apart and tearing Lake Calassen into the Sea of Fangs. However, as the rift valley expanded the lake, the hotspot volcanic island that had formed in the rift glaciated, blocking the the channel. When the glaciers finally gave way, what was left was the Sea of Fangs, connected to the ocean by way of two straits cutting around a large, fjorded island. To the north is the continent of Glasveld, an arctic continent strewn with glaciers and home to a few volcanic phenomena.

Prehistory (mostly unknown in the present)
the earliest inhabitants of the region were hulking creatures, suspected to be the ancestors of the giants who now inhabit Glasveld. Little is known about their society or why they migrated north, but their bones litter the frozen earth. Some have proposed that the first Orc heroes were, in fact, these pre-giants, but this is mere speculation.

Ancient history (scattered records, but few firm facts known in the present)
The first actual records come from the ancient dwarven empire. Morad the Great, a dwarf from the Near-Eastern plateaus of Glasveld, united the dwarf clans and conquered most of the northern coast of the Sea of Fangs. His empire grew as his successors continued his work. Eventually, the empire ceased expansion and Glautnut the Reticent established Motte-Morraine as the capital. The records from that period are extreme in their embellishments but lacking in their narrative detail. As a result, there is some speculation over whether the dwarves built the fabled city, or merely discovered it. Whatever the case, it proved their undoing. Some unknown ecological disaster struck, annihilating the entire population of Motte-Morraine. The few expeditions sent to explore never returned. Eventually, clan elder Bandur, the chief of the dwarves of Falrustam, had all records of the city's location destroyed to prevent the loss of any more of her people.

By that time, both orcs from the far Northeast and elves from the south had migrated to Falrustam. Initially peripheral to the dwarves, the elves and orcs slowly filled their niches, displacing the declining dwarves over time. Eventually, a schism within the orcs occurred. Klaroth Garl, a powerful shaman and tribal leader, established the first walled city (which now bears the name of its founder) and settled down. Internal divisions continued and other orcic city states rose and fell, but there always remained two groups: the settled orcs and the pastoralists.

The elves were later to settle. Tradition runs strong in a race of people who live for centuries, and many could not bear to give up their free-wandering ways. However, competitive pressure from the orcs and a few terribly harsh winters forced them to build their first few cities. Unlike the orcs, who had maintained strong ties to their pastoralist kin, the settled elves came to view the wild elves as distasteful, primitive, and overly bound to tradition.

Early history (well known in present)
In more recent years, a few more things have happened. The halfling raiders who had visited seasonally to sail up the Godswrath river and pillage the settlements there settled into small coastal villages. There, safe from attackers and with ample food supplies, they became far more peaceful and amiable.

Amongst the elves, King Ithiyor the bright united the elven cities and established a kingdom that persists to this day. The elven kingdom quickly expanded, sending the loose coalition of orcic cities into disarray. For several generations, the elves succeeded in dominating the settled orcs and the halflings, along with the small communities of humans who began to pop up at that time.

Then Krummak the blind had his revelation. He saw the ancient spirits of the orcs, but he saw amongst them the five great Hero-Kings. Karlog the victorious, who gave the orcs strength, Jakka the magnificent, who gave the orcs generosity, Dimramak the worthy, who invented justice, Hulek the uniter, who showed the benefits of mercy, and Shuknath Krin who ruled through wisdom. The five kings spoke to him of the sixth king, the king who would come after and into whose body would be poured their five spirits. Initially viewed as heretical, Krummak's Book of Heroes never gained traction in his lifetime. However, after a terrible offensive from the elven kingdom, a radical group seized on it as the basis for legitimising centralised rule of all settled orcs. The idea gained traction, and eventually Drukmeth breaknose was declared king of the orcs. He defeated the elf king Ardwnyl III and reclaimed the territory the orcs had lost. The equilibrium established then holds to this day.

Recent history
The equilibrium established in the Kingship War has simmered down into a state of distrustful peace, occasional skirmishes and border disputes, and thriving trade. The arrival of gnomic merchants and explorers opened up opportunities for exports, and bound Falrustam together. However, years of enmity do not simply vanish, and the whole region is much more volatile than anyone wants to admit. Radical elements in both kingdoms have been urging for war, expansion, and domination.
A few years ago, the elf queen Aurora made a major concession to the radicals. She ordered massive expansion south and west, clearing out wild elves and halflings. She then established the cities of Iandar and Daronuwyn to control external trade and the sap groves respectively. Though she avoided completely breaking the balance of power, it was stretched to its limit. The orc attacks on Fronwel and wild elf raids on Daronuwyn that followed were not quite so petty as usual.
Meanwhile, in the far north, there is talk of unease amongst the orc pastoralists, though they are unwilling to discuss the reason with outsiders. Some have speculated that it is related to the newfound reticence of the dwarves, who seem to have withdrawn even further from the goings on of other races.

[Gwaednerth]

Okay, following my first session of gameplay, I now know some things I'm going to focus on.

The primary struggle of the campaign takes place in the context of citied elf-wild elf tensions. The themes that are developing seem to focus on otherness and outcasts, the tone is shaping up to be dark and grim.

The City of Issar
Issar is fairly large, and connected to the capital, Nalodîn. Its main claim to fame is the Ysgol-e Hydai (for all you language nerds, most of my Elvish is a distorted mashup of Persian and Welsh), the arcane university. The main axis of the city, the Rahsyvriniol, leads to the Maydan-yn Issar, the main square of the city. The Maydan-yn Issar is bounded by the Ysgol-e Hydai on the West, the Jameh-ne Claseren (a cathedral dedicated to Claseren, one of the four children of Caranimathian) on the East, and the Divan-yn Atronyath (the executive centre of the city). Circles of alternating parks and neighbourhoods radiate out from the Maydan-yn Issar, with the parks getting smaller and the developed areas getting larger farther from the centre. Issar is somewhat panoptic in design, with relatively few places to hide shady dealings. Nevertheless, the poor parts of town, reserved for those with no social rank to speak of, contain the great centres of vice in the city. Crime is particularly abundant in the port districts along the Godswrath River (Avondaro-yn Izad).

The Ysgol-e Hydai is a massive university. The buildings are arranged in a pattern of circles and squares of increasing height, dotted with towers and spires. Above all rises the Kohjholai, a massive tower containing the private chambers of the greatest mages, along with an extensive library reserved for the most advanced students.
The head of the university is Archmage Ferdowsi. Ferdowsi is best known for his knack for divination, his poetry, and his five volume monstrosity Divanat a arverat-e Faenai (Faen Courts and Customs; renowned for its excellent verse, beautiful pictures, and absurd thoroughness). He wears a midnight black scholar's robe, embroidered with black calligraphy. He is more or less average in height and build for an elf, but his fingers and ears are unnaturally long and thin. In terms of personality, Ferdowsi follows the rules of elven etiquette, but it is clear that he is not interested in social games. He is deeply intelligent and knowledgeable, and asks many questions. His interests and behaviours are known to change dramatically. Sometimes he locks himself in his study for months. Other times, he becomes a social butterfly attending every ball, fête, and party high society has to offer, yet other times he chooses to spend his evenings at the seediest bar he can find, drinking munterhet (cut with lord knows what) while explaining to cutthroats and theives the precise forms of address necessary to survive an encounter with particular faeries.

The Jameh-ne Claseren is a cathedral surrounded by smaller church buildings. The cathedral itself is mostly comprised of thin towers in rising circles connected by flying buttresses, however, in the center there is a large domed structure. Sermons are held under the dome, and hymns are sung from the tops of the spires. The surrounding buildings contain seminaries, dwellings for monastic orders, and the central branch of the public library (Claseren is, amongst other things, the patron of libraries).
The head of the clergy in Issar is High Priestess Mirelân. She is a devout clergywoman and devotee of Claseren. She foregoes the garb her rank permits in favour of a simple black scholar's robe. Her only ornamentation is the platinum holy symbol she wears around her neck (a tetrafoil inlaid in onyx with the third letter of the Elvish alphabet {Caun} embellished in the shape of a scroll and quill). She is soft of voice, but sharp of word and quick to reprimand. Although she is wise, she is also highly intelligent. She is revered amongst the faithful, and it is said that even the Paragon at the Jameh-ne Caranimathian in Nalodîn often seeks her advice. It is also rumoured that, while Mirelân and Ferdowsi make a public show of perfect courtesy, they have some sort of feud being carried out in private. Though rumours that several of Ferdowsi's poems are intended to contain subtle sleights against Mirelân are unfounded, the two certainly do have an unusual amount of correspondence.

The Divan-yn Atronyath is designed like a panopticon. A tall, circular building surrounding a courtyard with a single tower. The circular building contains all manner of bureaucracies and offices, as well as quartering for high ranking military and law enforcement officers, including the Ysaran-e Veithen (the wizard corps of the elven army). The tower contains the Driheinsygnor (the council of nine or the three-tiered council) and the Othak-yn Atronyath (the chamber of the executive, literally the philosopher; are you sensing the theme of this city yet?)
The Driheinsygnor is an advisory council and a judicial body. The head of the council (the first tier) is the Atronyath. The second tier is composed of the High Priestess, the Guildmaster, the Archmage, and an elected representative of high rank. The third tier is composed of the harbourmaster, the general, the chief engineer, and the record keeper. The Atronyath has two votes, which he casts independent of each other. Each member of the second tier has one vote. Each member of the third tier has half a vote, however, a unanimous vote is referred to as receiving nine, rather than eight, votes (the last vote is attributed to divine will, and creates an accord between the council and elven numerology).
The current Atronyath is a reclusive figure of late. He has been absent from quite a few major social occasions and has instructed the Driheinsygnor to split his votes in his absence. The competing rumours are that he is either very ill, or working on some sort of grand scheme. Written instructions on the governance of the city still come from the Othak-yn Atronyath, and are identifiable by the Atronyath's distinctive calligraphy, but many think his absence bodes ill.
Also of note is Major-Magus Yela-lathin, the commander of the Ysaran-e Veithen. Yela-lathin is fiery for an elf, and is a staunch supporter of any leader who thinks the elven kingdom should, "Clear out and civilise those heathens in the forest and make room for decent folk". She is loud and proud. However, it is undeniable that she gets results. Under her command, the Ysaran-e Veithen has become a real power, vital to the victory that established the city of Daronuwyn.

The undercity is run by several competing criminal organisations. Until recently, the dominant power was the Death Cult. They believed that the elven culture was the root of current social ills. They therefore turned to a nameless deity, referred to simply as Death, who is something of a satan-figure in the Church of Caranimathian. They believed in simplicity, the material (non-representative) nature of the universe, and the individual. Their organisation became quite powerful, but was ultimately crushed by the authorities. The deaths-head brand can still earn its bearer a life-sentence, but in the seedier parts of town many former members, some still devoted to their new faith, continue to lead lives of crime. However, the dominant organisation these days is the Dashanedrysorat (crystal daggers), a gang lead by the fearsome crimelord Amethyst.
Amethyst is a dangerous and mysterious figure. Some say he is fey-touched, others that he has demon blood. Whatever the case, Amethyst is clearly unnatural. His skin is pale, even for an elf, and his hair and eyes are deep violet. He is known for his bipolar mood swings and unpredictability. Despite his notoriety, Amethyst walks easily amongst the high-ranked upper crust. Likely, it is due to his organisation supplying illicit goods to the elite (though of course, nobody can prove anything).

[Gwaednerth]

Naturally, the players decided that rather than solve the mystery I gave them in Issar (which would have helped them in their overarching quest) decided to murder two city guards and run away. (They weren't murder hoboes, they just responded to a stimulus differently than I had anticipated)

Currently they are about to head to Fronwel, the Northernmost elven city, which means that I have to come up with information about Fronwel for our next session.

While Issar is the city of knowledge, dedicated to Claseren, Fronwel is the city of art, dedicated to Senereth.

The city follows the typical elven plan of concentric circles of parks and developed neighbourhoods, a main axis running from the main gate to the central maydan, and minor avenues radiating out from the centre. However, unlike the stark practicality of Issar, Fronwel displays a flair for style. The architecture is more graceful, the parks are elegantly cultivated, and bright pennants flow in the ever-present wind.
However pleasing Fronwel may be to the eye, its greatest beauty lies in the sounds of the city. Minstrels and buskers are common in the low-rank parts of the city. They sing and play instruments generally quite skilfully. However, the true virtuosos reside at the centre of the city in the Ysgol-e Hawenudion (school of poetry). It is said that the grand bard Atarod can sing in four part harmony with herself.

The city largely parallels Issar. Bordering the Maydan-e Fronwel are the Jami-ne Sereneth (the cathedral of Sereneth) the Divan-e Sarande (the centre of political authority) and the Ysgol-e Hawenudion.

The Jami-ne Sereneth is built in the typical style of elven church architecture, with a series of spires and flying buttresses leading to a central spire that rises from a large dome. However, the stone has been carved with ingenious little flute-like holes and hung with chimes so that the whole structure is constantly ringing and whistling with mysterious music. When joined by the sound of elven hymns sung on the day of worship, the overall effect is potent, and has even been known to cause magical effects.
The high priestess of Sereneth is rather stocky by elf standards. She wears the red robe of her order, hand sewn and embroidered with words of good fortune. Rather than wear a holy symbol, she carries a telynwud, a complex, many-stringed instrument and symbol of Sereneth. She is cheerful, bright, and helpful.

The Divan-e Sarande (literally the court of the poet) is designed around the typical panoptic floor plan. The interior court is filled with fountains, which (at least during the warmer months) gurgle prettily. In the building that surrounds the tower, there are bureaucracies, offices of high ranking officials, and barracks for military and law enforcement.
The central tower contains the Othak-e Sarande (the office of the chief executive; the Sarande is the equivalent of the Atronyath in Issar), and the Driheinsygnor. These function more or less the same way as the equivalents in Issar, so I won't go into detail. (The citied elves are modernists and platonists, so they tend to have a great deal of standardisation and organisation. Daniel Burnham's Plan of Chicago has nothing on an elven flat-pack city).
The Sarande himself is a socialite to the bones. He hides it well behind a mask of false modesty, but his ambition is insatiable. He is amiable, but much moreso towards people he thinks could be useful to him (think Horace Slughorn). Nevertheless, he does genuinely value the success of his city, and he has a deep civic pride.

The Ysgol-e Hawenudion is similar to the Ysgol-e Hydai, but the spacing of the buildings is slightly different. Whereas the Ysgol-e Hydai is designed to minimise the damage caused by an explosion, the sudden transmutation of a wall into a swarm of angry rodents, or a rampaging golem, the Ysgol-e Hawenudion is designed with acoustics as the priority. Different spaces have different characteristics. Some areas carry a clear sound over long distance. Others create countless reverberating echoes. The Ysgol-e Hawenudion is likely the greatest academy of the arts on the continent, and certainly the best in Falrustam. Although innumerable arts are taught, music, dance, poetry, and calligraphy are the most prized subjects.
Atarod is the grand bard of the Ysgol-e Hawenudion. She is most revered for a series of tragic ballads that almost nobody else can perform, and best known for her poetry, which tends to deal with elven philosophy. Her disposition is somewhat melancholy, and she tends not to be talkative. It is rumoured that she has suffered some grand tragedy in her life, but accounts conflict as to what it might have been.

[Gwaednerth]

Oh, and this gets more into the specific campaign that the world, but I figure I should share the prophecy Archmage Ferdowsi made to my players. It's not my best poetry, and I really should have used a more elven structure, but oh well. Also the caesuras didn't survive the format shift, so they are represented by the non-indented and indented lines.

There will come two seekers

Desirous of vengeance:

The first for a family

felled in the fire,

The second for station

unfairly denied.

Foes will they conquer

Within and without.

In the veins of the first

poisonous pumping

His lust for revenge

Will ravage his soul!

The second, too, faces

A dangerous challenge

Great risk yields reward

but death is before him!

They will face a great foe

fearsome death-bringer

Who begins a new chapter

great terrible vision!

Faith in his purpose

no man may sunder;

Power he craves

to keep for his own!

Eyes all unshrouded

he sees with his mind.

Great are his gifts

wealthy and wise.

The seekers shall find him,

the one who will aid them.

A dreamer most calm

to free them of vices

A fool who will join them

though it be his downfall!

[Gwaednerth]

Some notes about The Fey.

The Fey or Feywild is a plane that abuts the Prime Material Plane, and is home to the Fey, also known as Fae and Faeries.

Relation to the Prime Material Plane
Cosmically speaking, the Feywild is very near to the Prime Material Plane. As a result, crossing over from one to the other is relatively common, unlike (for example) crossing over to Hell. Even nonmagical folk have been known to wander off and accidentally emerge in the Fey, however, magical folk can cross over with far more ease and precision. Because the Fey are almost all innately magical, they tend to cross over more often than the people indigenous to the Prime Material Plane. Crossing over is very reliable, because there is a one to one correspondence between points in the Prime Material and the Fey. Crossing over from a particular forest clearing in the Prime Material always results in arrival at a particular point in the Fey. However, the spatial relationships between points in the Fey are not necessarily the same as those between points in the Prime Material. For example, two points a mile apart in the Prime Material might correspond to two points that are leagues away in the Fey, or that are barely three strides apart in the Fey. These spatial relationships have been meticulously charted and diagramed in Archmage Ferdowsi's Divanat a arverat-e Faenai. The long and the short of it is that someone clever and powerful enough could theoretically travel vast distances in one plane very swiftly by traveling between the corresponding points in the other plane. This is true of other planes, but because other planes lack the one to one correspondence that exists between the Fey and the Prime Material, it would be far more difficult and far riskier.

Faen Geography
The full scope of Faen geography exceeds this post. The terrain is extreme. Huge glaciers stand feet away from burning deserts. Gentle, grassy hills are pounded by ocean waves. Moreover, it is a magical landscape. There are shifting dunes of iron filings, lands where the air flits with fire, and trees that sing hauntingly in the wind.
The Feywild is divided into polities known as Courts. Some are huge continental empires, others exist entirely within the confines of small trees. Each has its own etiquette and customs, and offending a faerie can rapidly lead to all manner of horrors. Not for nothing do the common folk of Falrustam fear walking alone in the forest. Many an unwary traveller has wandered astray, crossed over accidentally, and met a sticky end as a result of some unintentional offence.
Faen Courts, their customs, and how not to give offence are all covered in Divanat a arverat-e Faenai, though it is far from comprehensive, limited as it is to five volumes.
In naming people, places, etc. I have thusfar been using Yoruba to represent Faen language.

[Gwaednerth]

A note on alignment.

Issues with alignment have been brought up many times. However, I don't like the idea that alignment can just be thrown out. It provides an interesting element to the world, to magic, and to character development.

My system involves three axes rather than two. I've kept Law-Chaos. Law-Chaos is fairly uncontroversial and I see no reason to change it. On the other hand, Good-Evil has to be split into two dimensions: Selfless-Selfish and Benevolent-Malicious.

Selfless-Selfish is exactly what it says on the tin, but it warrants some more discussion. My thinking here is somewhat Nietzschean. Selfless individuals believe that society is best served by protecting and uplifting the weak, unfortunate, etc. whereas Selfless individuals think that allowing such people to fail creates a society of better people. However, some of them are more sincere than others (which partially falls under the Benevolence-Malice axis, and is partially unaccounted for; more on this later).

Benevolence-Malice is a little less straightforward. It doesn't deal with whether or not someone wants to create a better society, but whether they're willing to cause harm to do it. If Selfless-Selfish was Nietzsche, Benevolent-Malicious is Kant versus Mill. Benevolent people tend to believe that a good end is never worth a bad means, whereas Malevolent people are more than happy to cause harm if it means that, on the whole, things will be better in the end.

Some examples are in order.
Selfless-Benevolent people believe that they (and generally all who have more than they need) should use their resources to uplift those who don't have enough and that this should be achieved with minimum harm to anyone. This could be thought of as the Jesus morality.
Selfless-Malevolent people believe that the poor, underprivileged, etc. should be uplifted, but they have no qualms about cracking a few eggs to make it happen. This might best be referred to as the Bolshevik morality.
Selfish-Benevolent is a system where success and failure are deemed necessary to the health of society, but everyone is given a fair shot at that success. I can think of no real-world instance of this (though it is theoretically possible). The ideal form of this would mean that being born into a wealthy family, for example, would convey absolutely no advantage over being born into a poor family, but that people with talent, hard workers, etc. would be rewarded while untalented or lazy people would end up poor.
Selfish-Malevolent people believe that success or failure is important, and that there is no problem whatsoever with a snowball effect, where the successful become more successful and the unsuccessful become less successful. I think of this as the American GOP establishment morality (not trying to start a flame war over politics here. If you don't like it, feel free to fill my inbox with irate PMs)

Each of those combinations can be imagined as a society, faith, person, organisation, etc.. For instance, Iomedae would be Lawful Selfless Neutral. She is a champion of justice who believes in uplifting the weak/powerless/unfortunate and believes that harmful solutions are sometimes necessary but rarely desirable. Shelyn would be Neutral Selfless Benevolent. She doesn't really care about order or freedom, but she cares about compassion for others and she believes in using The Power of Love to achieve her ends. Abadar would be Lawful Neutral Neutral. He believes in fairness, that people should care about the good of others but not at the expense of their own self-interest, and that harming others is acceptable if it is necessary for security, protection of property rights, etc.. Gorum would be Chaotic Neutral Malevolent. He believes in freedom, doesn't really care if you fight for others or for yourself, and believes that the only worthwhile way to solve things is by bashing heads together. Asmodeus would be Lawful Selfish Benevolent. He believes in hierarchy (which is both Lawful and Selfish) sanctity of contracts, order, etc., that hard work and talent should be rewarded, and that everyone should have the chance to prove their worth (everyone in Hell starts at the bottom, nobody gets to jump the line and start out as a Pit Fiend; moreover, failures don't keep you down forever. A Gelugon isn't gonna get blasted back down to an Osyluth for failing, it will just take a lot more work for them to become a Cornugon). Orcus is Chaotic Selfish Malevolent. He only really believes in the acquisition of personal power.

Because of the nature of D&D alignment, there are plenty of gaps to be filled by inventing deities. Moreover, I have decided that the traditional pantheon (minus obvious racial deities like Torag) is just the human pantheon. The pantheons of the Orc Kingdom and Elf Kingdom, the dwarven pantheon, etc. will all have deities with a variety of alignments. I will probably do a post on religion later, though much of it will be taken from my previous world.

[Gwaednerth]

Okay, much excitement has befallen this world since my last post. Long story short, one of my players killed the other and left their NPC ally Küzmek to die. Küzmek fought his way out, but Ash Crimson, the murderous PC, has now gone full Anakin Skywalker, and will be one of the villains in the follow-up campaign.

The years between the original campaign and the new one have not been kind to Falrustam. With the traitor Ash Crimson at his side, the Crimson King (the baddie from the previous campaign) has successfully conquered major territory, firmly establishing the new Falrustamian Empire.

The Falrustamian Empire is a fascist government constructed around a philosophy of absolute rule, total control of the population and the means of power, and a warped form of meritocracy, which is referred to as The New World Order. In their lands, spanning most of southern Falrustam, magic is largely illegal. Only registered magic-users who have proved their devotion to the New World Order are permitted to practice magic, and then only if they do so in accordance with strict regulations. The early days of the Empire saw numerous mages brutally executed, and countless more mutilated beyond being able to cast spells (hands and tongues removed). The forest is patrolled endlessly by Imperial forces, and the conquered cities have become completely panoptic. A person's standing in society is measured by two things: how well they serve the cause of the New World Order and how much deference they show their superiors. The Crimson King himself is seen as an almost godlike figure.

The wood elves who had formerly inhabited the forests of southern Falrustam have been nearly wiped out. Some joined the Crimson King after vicious raids by the citied elves (who blamed the wood elves for terrorist attacks lead by the Crimson King), others fled North and joined the resistance movement. Many more were killed or imprisoned in work camps to "prove their worth to the Empire, and so gain standing in civilised society".

Three cities have been taken by the Falrustamian Empire, namely Iandar, Daronuwyn, and the former capital of the Elven Kingdom, Nalodîn. The cities have undergone massive rebuilding programs, destroying much of the traditional, elegant, airy elven architecture with behemoths of neoclassical simplicity. The city is under constant surveillance from the authorities. Divination spells are in effect throughout the city, Inquisitors and Crimson Guards walk the streets and stand guard at all intersections and gates. Spies are everywhere, seeking out anyone who might undermine the Empire.

Issar is the only elven city of note left. Protected by powerful magics wrought by Archmage Ferdowsi and the disciples of the Ysgol-e Hydai, it has become a major stronghold of the resistance. Even so, conditions there are desperate. The whole city is under siege, and there is a blighted no-man's-land beyond the city walls where sorties and attempts to storm the city have left the land burned, warped, and infested with lingering magics.

The halflings on the coast have been decimated. Refusing to accept the New World Order, they went the way of the wood elves. Most managed to escape forced labour or murder, but the majority are now refugees. Some fled across the Howling Strait to the continent of Sarkarmiz, while others made their way north to the other remaining elven city, Fronwel.

The Orcic Kingdom's tension with the Elven Kingdom has given way, and now the orcs are the strongest allies of the resistance. Orc warriors harry the siege lines around Issar and provide their engineering expertise to shore up the physical defences. The pastoralist orcs are even more dedicated, and have lead several major offensives against the Falrustamian Empire. Most are surprised by this fact, but the pastoralists see it as something of a divine crusade. Their greatest commander is Küzmek, a warrior guided by the spirit of Kralın, one of the greatest orc heroes of antiquity.

The dwarves are largely indifferent, though a significant group leans towards supporting the Falrustamian Empire. They long for the return of Empire and approve of the idea of meritocracy and community.

Meanwhile, in the Feywild, things are almost equally chaotic. Bilisi, the demon king, has been expanding his Court into the lands of other Fey. He has taken over much of Iná and Agbajọ-erekuṣu, and continues to distort other courts, blackening their skies and turning their land into shifting dunes of shale.

Finally, far to the north, there is much talk of mysterious happenings in Glasveld. Some say the white dragons have migrated south, others say that the last few giants have fled their traditional lands (certainly there have been unprecedented numbers of giant raids recently), and yet others say some fell spirit has been awakened and that its wrath is the source of the unnaturally harsh winter that starves the people of Falrustam.


Some further elaboration on the Falrustamian Empire

The ruler of the Empire is a mysterious figure known as The Crimson King. He wears black full plate with a demon's head mask and a flowing cloak. He is an intense individual, a brilliant visionary, a charismatic leader, and an utterly ruthless dictator.

His right hand man is Praetor Ash Crimson. It is said that Ash was driven mad by the spirits of all those he has slain. What is known is that he is deadly when he is silent, and yet more terrifying when he speaks. On such rare occasions, he has been known to rave and to speak terrifying prophesies of doom. Nonetheless, for all his insanity, Ash is not erratic. He is a deadly combatant and is a mastermind when it comes to overcoming magical defences. Currently he is in charge of the siege of Issar.

While Ash Crimson leads armies into battle, Warmaster Gerund is the commander the Crimson King sends after less well defended targets. She strikes like lightning from a clear sky and leaves death and destruction in her wake. She has carried out several assassinations and her troops were responsible for massacring the wood elves.

High Inquisitor Heulianor is the spymaster, witchhunter, and propagandist of the Falrustamian Empire. The Inquisitorial Police operate the surveillance state, the Inquisitors-general oversee all trials, and the Witchhunters kill and maim magic-users at will. All three are above reproach from civil authorities and can only be tried in the Inquisitorial Court.

[Gwaednerth]

In the second Falrustam campaign, one of my players wants to play a dwarf, but a somewhat different one so I'm working with him to add a dimension to the dwarves.

The Line of the Stonekings
The Dwarves are one of the most ancient races still living on Falrustam. Their great empire fell long ago, but they cling to their lands with stalwart dedication. However, the dwarves that live today have not lived through generations of decline unchanged. Once, the dwarves dwelled deep. Far deeper than they do today. A race of beings more stone than flesh that carved out an existence in perpetual darkness.
Though the dwarves have changed significantly since those times, there are a few bloodlines that have kept vestigial markers. Tough grey skin, gem-lik eyes, and a strange affinity for stone marks the line of the Stonekings. And it is a line easily marked. The dwarven histories are filled with the exploits of the stonekings. From Gorud Ironhand who slew the great giant hero Krunthmak, to Haftur Darkeye who carved Motte Moraine from the mountains of Glasveld, to the Badrul the cruel, he last Empress.
These days, attitudes towards the Stonekings have changed. To some, they are godlike beings to be raised as queens and conquerors, the restorers of the glorious dwarven past. To others, they are potential tyrants waiting to unleash their cruel vanity upon the world, and finally finish the destruction of the dwarves.

[Gwaednerth]

My other player wants to play a being born in the Fey with a somewhat demonic aspect. Therefore, here is some information on the Fey Court of Bilisi, known in the Prime Material as The Demon King.

Bilisi's realm strikes people from the prime material as a hellscape. The sky is dark and impenetrable, with sable clouds flitting across a starless sky of onyx. Yet the dunes of razor sharp shale that shift across the land in an unfelt wind are visible in the strange, sourceless ghost-light that illuminates the whole realm. And in the centre rises the Court. The Court of Bilisi is a huge black tower rising from a pit of unnaturally red flames. The tower is so tall that it takes more than a day to ascend to the top, and the pit is far deeper.
Bilisi himself is a figure of mystery and terror. He dwells in his audience chamber in a throne carved from huge, unidentifiable bones, lit by ghost light, but never truly illuminated. A figure of drifting shadow and half-remembered glimpses.
The plane is inhabited by a menagerie of creatures, mostly of a semi-humanoid description. From the Ti Ina, strange beings of fire, to the Ti Okuta who burrow through the shale, to the demonic, birdlike Idi Gunu.
Of particular note are the Idaji-Anjonu, known on the prime material plane as tieflings. They are approximately humanoid, with deep red skin, curving horns, and twin tails. Socially, the tieflings tend to be reclusive, seeking out only the company of their own kind and living on the fringes. However, they are known to be hospitable, gentle, kind, and diplomatic. They appreciate visitors, but dislike any outsider who stays too long in their lands. They are masters of strange fey magics, and have been known to form strong relationships with mysterious creatures called eidolons who feed off of that connection and shape themselves into companions for the tieflings.

Bilisi's court appears to be mostly shale, but there are huge mineral deposits throughout the realm. Mining is a principle occupation, especially for akara crystals, which are edible and serve the role of a staple crop. However, strange and rare materials are also to be found in the mines, and the shaping, study, and trade of these materials generate great wealth for the realm.

Bilisi's court is large, and neighbours numerous other courts. Currently, it is expanding into several, aided by the currents between the prime material and the fey that have been disturbed by the Crimson King's takeover.

[Gwaednerth]

The Ancient City of Motte Moraine:

History and Mytho-history
Once, the dwarves were a great and powerful people. Lead by the ancient line of Stonekings, they carved out a vast empire in the far north and subdued lesser kingdoms. Dwarven armies annihilated hobgoblin warbands. Stoneking heroes slew dragons. And finally, Glautnut the Reticent established Motte Moraine as his stronghold. From there, generations of her descendants forged a powerful society with a wondrous cultural output. Huge monumental statues, subterranean cathedrals, epic poems describing the feats of the Stonekings, and the finest craftmanship in the world.

But the Stonekings bore a curse. The price of their greatness. The ambition that in earlier Stonekings had been expressed as conquering might, dazzling wit, and cultural innovation soured in captivity. As the empire ceased to expand, struggling to hold up its own logistical weight, the need for greatness twisted into vanity, greed, and spiteful ambition. Tyrants, zealots, and madmen sat on opulent thrones, leading paranoid inquisitions and taxing their people to starvation.

The maddest of the mad was Empress Badrul the Cruel. Exceptionally gifted with magic, and exceptionally vain and paranoid, Badrul became convinced of her own divinity and obsessed with achieving immortality. Her subjects slaved away, dying of starvation and exhaustion in their search for tribute. Those who resisted were tortured and vivisected, warped with foul magics. Their twisted bodies were cast out into the valley of fangs.
But Badrul found her answers. In The Crucible of Screams she mastered the dark magics necessary to smelt the souls of the living into steel chains, binding her to the world for eternity. But the Empress could not be sated. She sealed the gates of Motte Moraine, and committed a great slaughter. As she forged link after link from the lives she claimed her chains grew, becoming sentient extensions of her own malicious will. Those she did not forge into her chains she worked to death, digging up treasures for her aggrandisement. Their ghosts still walk the halls of Motte Moraine, fleeing the rattling chains of their mistress.

This is the true version of events, and though many of the details are unknown, the gist of the facts remains in the stories of the dwarves. However, in some dwarven societies, it is said that these are slanderous lies perpetuated by weak and fearful traitors. In these enclaves, it is said that the common dwarves, jealous of the greatness of the Stonekings and of the might and grandeur of Badrul, lead a treacherous coup d'état. They claim that the dwarves sealed the gates of Motte Moraine and then assassinated Badrul and all of the other Stonekings, before being struck mad in divine retribution for their treachery.

Geography
Motte Moraine is located in Southern Glasveld in a large mountain range which almost fully encloses a circular valley. To the north, a massive glacier perches between the peaks, towering over Deepwater lake. From the lake, a fast, clear river runs more or less straight to the entrance of the valley. The entrance itself is obstructed by a stout stone fortress, carved with dwarven runes. Beyond the gates is the valley of fangs, a landscape of unnatural, jutting spires of ice. Across the valley is the entrance to Motte Moraine, a huge gate carved into the stone of the mountain. Most of the city is below the surface, sprawling beneath the mountain. There are huge caverns where open-air markets were once held, cramped mineshafts where sound echoes hauntingly, and huge underground structures carved out of the surrounding stone.

Denizens
The entire city is haunted. Ghosts who were present long before the reign of Badrul, the restless spirits of those she doomed to death, and the undead dwarven explorers driven mad trying to solve the mystery of the lost city, all of them wander the halls of Motte Moraine. However, these spirits are not the worst things that inhabit the region. There are three great horrors of Motte Moraine. The first and most horrible is The Mountain Queen, the warped, twisted creature that was once Empress Badrul. She clambers spiderlike through the dark, propelled forward by writhing chains, ensnaring more and more souls. The second is the warped creatures who inhabit the valley of fangs. Once dwarves, these creatures are now mutilated beyond recognition. Unlike the ghosts, who are more fearful than vicious, these abominations are vengeful and cruel. Any who fall into their hands are destined for wicked torture, experimentation, and magic of the most twisted variety. Third, there is the creature of the lake. An eldritch horror from a bygone age awoken by the malevolent magics of Empress Badrul.