Most kings survey their entire dominion by eye on a clear day. Empire has broken under it’s own weight - struggles are local even as threads of trade and exchange are woven over months of sailing. Isles weighed down by fen and bog know the spices of desert lands. All know the best steel is in the south, and that the silver pennies with holes in the centre are accepted in all ports. Ruins stud the landscapes, and many halls lie haunted.
Between the lands march the whale-roads. The ships of the north are able to travel the deeper seas where no land may be seen, before snaking into rivers to find plunder inland. Others are bound to the coast, existence liminal.
Beneath the earth lie warrens, ruins, and underworlds unseen by the sun. Things slink. Nightmares breed and multiply and fester. Beasts lair and stalk forth when the light of day is extinguished.
Thorgild - a Norse-speaking ex-thrall with a hunting background. Of the original 12 who fled with you.
Old Ulli - a Norse-speaking ex-thrall, chosen by the crew to petition the party for wages. Of the original 12 who fled with you.
Arch-Druid - the head of the Druid order, who dwells in the Circle.
Callum - a young priest guiding the Faithful from Culemwarden to St. Olham's Monastery. Robbed by the party for 100 silver pennies.
Connor - the garrulous smith of Dorbog.
Donnagh - Lord of Dorbog. Young, honourable, yet level-headed. Keeps the peace between Culemwarden and Blulach.
Hrafnkel - a Norse traveller hiding in Dorbog from the dishonour brought by his brother's embrace of sorcery. Not even kinblood washes away the shame.
Macullen - Druid of Stamullen, friend of the bees. Aspect more animal than man, but open to trade and conversation. Friend of Mish.
Mish - Druid of Dorbog, adviser to Donnagh, Lord of Dorbog. Similar in aspect to Macullen, but cares deeply for the townsfolk. Known as a master of the healing arts. Friend of Macullen.
Sean - Abbott of St. Olham's Monastery. Thin, devout, holier-than-thou. Struck by Ulfer during the raid.
Suetonius - a faceless man who claimed his visage was stolen by a dog. Literate in Latin. Died on 29th Wild Month.
The Christians of the South prepare for war against the Druids. Neither side yet moves. Culemwarden are their foes.
Cioran, Lord of Culemwarden, would see his banner fly over Blulach.
Donnagh, Lord of Dorbog, seeks to balance Culemwarden and Blulach - promising each aid against the other and thus preventing open conflict. The party are considered allies of Dorbog, after cleansing river.
The woods are deeper than maps and dreams and Imperium. They are deepest in the East of Ruislip. Led by the Arch-Druid.
The snowbound home of the Norsefolk.
A wild land on the edge of the Ancient Ocean.
Blulach - a town in the south-east of Ruislip, not yet visited. Ruled by Glas. Known to be strongly Christian.
Culemwarden - a town on the north coast, not yet visited. Ruled by Cioran. Currently plagued by attacks by 'the gryps'.
Donenashoe - the lost former capital of Ruislip, doomed by the ancient magicks that defeated the legions of Rûm. To tread here is to break a terrible taboo.
Dorbog - a town on the west coast of some 800 souls, a mixture of Ruis and Norse. Ruled by Donnagh, with the aid of Mish the Druid, who balances the power of Culemwarden and Blulach. Currently plagued by the blue death.
Ogonelloe - a settlement south-east of Dorbog, not yet visited.
Stamullen - a small forest village who tend beehives under the leadership of Macullen.
St. Olham's Monastery - a Christian monastic community of ~100 souls on the south coast, raided by the party for silver and knowledge.
Drystone Manor - a strange, ramshackle drystone structure in the hills north of Stamullen. The proportions are all wrong for something of human make.
Abandoned village - a decaying village on the south-coast, long abandoned and rotted by time. Seashells litter the floors of the remaining buildings and lights dance in the ocean under a leaden sky.
Ichor Bog - a stone-ringed bog upriver of Dorbog, from where emerged a foul being and its minions who polluted the waters of the river.
Sea Cave - a system of caves in the cliffs North of Dorbog, where the Stealer of Faces made its lair.
Runestone - a map indicates the location of a magical axehead at a runestone in dunes north of two forts, one ruined and one not.
The Treasury - marked on an island North of Albann on a Latin map owned by Suetonius.
Mutters in the wind. Footprints the size of barrel lids. Where does it take the folk it seizes in the darkness?
Leather skin, orbless eye sockets, lipless snarled teeth, a red right hand. What awful force dredged this man from death deep within the peat and set it in motion?
Corpse-rot. Bitter cold. The unquiet dishonoured dead of the Norsefolk.
A huge, flying creature that has been terrorising Culemwarden.
The damned drowned, scale-clad. Siren calling. Ship breaking. Opal eyes, alien and unknowable. Seashells bob silently and the ocean froths gently with foam.
Low, rumbling tones. Eyes black like jet. Corded muscle, larger than life. Seeks bones. How does he know the ways of men so?
The stench of rust. Boiling blood. Brutal scars. Ruis folk claim those slain without honour will return to take their vengeance. Their blood gradually ruins iron, which they seek in great quantities. They see very well in the dark.
Animate bones. Hard to stop unless pulverised.
Man's worst friend. Gaze upon your own mocking visage, swollen and twisted. Barbs of mocking and of iron. The Ruis say, never turn your back on a dog you have kicked.
A tough, leathery disc. One face bears the gills of a mushroom. Feels good turning it over in your fingers. Said to be a mark of good fortune, not often seen in these parts anymore.
The first folk delved deep into the secrets of sorcery and built a library to house their knowledge. All libraries burn, in time, but some semblance of their mysteries calcify around them.
Haft of elm, a head of gleaming, serrated silver. It wants nothing more than to bury itself in a human body. Denied its favourite meal, it sulks. Its wielder is marked out as a killer of men, with all the implications that entails.
All weapons have shields against which they shatter.
The blood of horses guards against the touch of magicks commanded by mortals.
Blue-green herb favoured of the Rûmish. When burned and the smoke inhaled, one is unable to cast sorceries but is also protected from those wielded by mortal sorcerors.