Axelgear
General Wontwit
Alright, another chapter! I was feeling particularly inspired.
Welcome to the Frokhdar Archipelago; the midwife to the Ice Winds, where the Giants of the Deep set their bones, and birthplace of the Huskar.
Seated at the far North-West of the known lands, Frokhdar is a chain of islands whose southernmost tip marks a narrow seaway and the western border of the known lands and what the Huskar call the spine of the world. The northernmost edge of the island's curving edge, meanwhile, sits at the very edge of what can be called habitable, with short summers and long, dark winters.
The Huskar have many stories of the origin of their lands and their people; some tell of a great, icy plain at the beginning of the world, which the Sun melted allowed to melt and night refroze, and into which flowed the milk of a great celestial cow (the trail of which can still be seen sprayed into the night sky), freezing and forming the first human; others say that Mankind were once as maggots, gnawing at the bones of the Giants of the Deep, until they ate of the flesh of those cunning ancients and became wise; and others still speak of the love of Mother Ocean and Father Sky, whose passions created the land and then threatened to crush it, so their tallest children - the mountains - set them apart and thus the world was born. These are a sample; there are many others, with similarities and differences to other cosmogenic tales found throughout.
For their part, the Huskar as a rule do not particularly care about where the world came from; the world is here, they will make use of it. As long as the story is good, the truth of it is largely irrelevant. This is why the Huskar consider the words historian, storyteller, and liar to be largely synonymous.
---
For centuries upon centuries, life on Frokhdar has been harsh, violent, and often short. The Huskar were suckled at the cold bossom of the ocean, and history has long seen the people of the archipelago turn to raiding - either those who live on the coasts to the south or each other, depending on how large and well-armed the raiding band was - to ensure their survival. In this harsh environment, one could not afford any more risks than one was born with, and so a culture flourished that emphasized a high value on kinship, honour, and oaths. Anyone who could not be trusted to keep and hold their word, or whose family would not stand beside them, was as good as dead; food for sharks and little more.
Today, this high emphasis on the sworn word and social bonds has led to a dramatic reshaping of the Huskar people. Over time, an inevitable conglomeration has occurred and, though it has taken centuries to reach fruition, the Huskar are perhaps one of the largest true democracies in existence in the world today. As families sought to solve feuds and ensure protection from raids, family groups swore pacts that bound them into tribes; tribes, in turn, formed pacts with other tribes to become bands for much the same reason; bands became alliances; and, eventually, these alliances became the Huskar.
The united peoples have stood together for over a century now, and it has not been an easy transition. The democracy of the Huskar was not planned but rather an organic contrivance, and so it is riddled with oddities and inefficiencies. Though time and well-intentioned attempts to smooth out some of the creases have worked away some of these problems, the hierarchy of loyalties still runs from the local to the distant, and so few alliances, bands, tribes, or families are willing to relinquish control or their capacity to run according to traditional lines (or change their minds whenever they feel like, should tradition no longer suit) to the nation purely for the sake of unity.
Still, for whatever it is worth, the Huskar have managed thus far. Traditionally, it is an ascending representative hierarchy, with each family having one vote in their tribe, each tribe having a vote in their band, each band having a vote in their alliance, and each alliance having a vote in the Grand Moot. Many have taken to electing chieftains or similar representatives, who are elected for a term or for life, and who hold the power to wield their (family/tribe/band/alliance)'s vote without consultation for the duration of this period. This has created a new political class within the Huskar; the career politician. This term is also synonymous for liar.
---
The transition from warring clans to democratic alliance has had a dramatic impact on the culture of the Huskar, first and foremost being the formation of a true economy. With the stability offered by no longer needing to fear one's lands being set ablaze and one's family slaughtered each winter, the Huskar have made prodigious use of their great talents in shipcraft, navigation, and warfare. The passages west of their islands and trade along the coast have come under their "protection", with heavy tariffs extracted in exchange for putting a halt to raiding. The Huskar have, despite the coercive nature of this bargain for many, been strikingly true to their word; those who fly the pennant of a Huskar clan are treated as family, and those who harm them are responded to accordingly. Similar is the treatment for those who fly the pennant without paying the tax.
Without needing fear being murdered on sight for their goods, traders and merchants have also started to make journeys to the archipelago, and Huskar tradesmen have started venturing out in kind. Though trading missions might occasionally become raids, these are largely legitimate, and the Huskar are building a reputation for being some of the best caravans to travel with when going through dangerous lands. Some have even become full-time transporters of goods, with everyone knowing that the oath of a Huskar sailor to make a delivery is about as solid a contract as one can get.
For many, these changes to more legitimate business are viewed as a good thing; the Huskar are growing wealthier and more well-fed without needing risk their necks nearly so often. At the same time, many view these days of trading and peace with suspicion; they sing the sagas and stories of great heroes who slew sea-monsters and razed castles with naught but their teeth and a very angry disposition. Easy life does not sit well with a people who are used to hardship and are fully aware of their strength. Even now, Huskar law resembles their history, with most disputes solved by duel and most crimes punished by a hefy fine or death. A fine might seem light for some but, to the Huskar, a cold death in winter because you cannot afford food or the strength to chop firewood makes an axe to the neck seem like a considerably lighter penalty.
Nowhere is the difference more noticeable than in what many Huskar consider a sacred institution: Theatre. To the Huskar, storytelling is a sacred art, with a story being important deemed vastly more important than any factuality. Yet, at the same time, they appreciate the idea of a story being true, even if they are well aware that it might not be. A claymore said to belong to your great-great-grandfather who wielded it against a storm demon is infinitely more impressive than simply telling the same story with the admission that it was made up.
Hence, the Huskar hold the performing arts as a kind of ritual worship, where ancestors and great heroes are made holy by the recitation of their tales. Every Huskar child knows at least a few favourite stories from start to finish and all the parts and roles in them. In the modern era, however, the import of trade brings with it the import of foreign ideas, foreign fashions, foreign sensibilities, and foreign stories; stories of a dramatic nature, rather than a mythical one; stories where the protagonists are ostensibly portrayed as heroic for performing acts that many Huskar find horrific, such as abandoning one's family to be with a lover or breaking a promise.
This has created a significant class division and a whole new class of citizen; those who live off their own wealth and are independently capable of surviving, shunning ties to family, tribe, or clan. These people are viewed as intrinsically untrustworthy, as their word means nothing to most Huskar; without the social ties that bind to keep them on the up-and-up, these people are effectively unpredictable. How can they be expected to be virtuous without threat of reprisal? By the same token, these independents offer that only they truly can be virtuous, by dint of choosing virtue instead of having it forced upon them.
Whomever is right in this argument, much blood has been spilled over it already. That the independents are often wealthy and, hence, often able to push political agendas by playing to the interests of various groups certainly doesn't help matters.
---
Every Huskar man and woman knows how to sing. It is born to them; the winds teach them when they are young and those who go to sea and at night and hear the wailing of the Giants of the Deep never forget such lessons. With life often requiring much hard work and pulling together, singing in unity is a good way to pass the time and learning work-songs is an excellent way to get everyone working to the same pace.
Most Huskar spend half their life on the water; their civilization exists on an archipelago, and so, even if they are intelligentsia whose hands are smooth and uncalloused, they must still travel by boat to get from place to place. Most Huskar, though, grow up working the land and fishing, no matter their station in life.
The general attitude of the Huskar towards magic is one of wariness, a fact that goes double for those who can call down the truly mighty arcane workings: Someone who wields sorcery is far, far less reliant on their fellows for survival and intrinsically has far more power over them. Thus, it is tradition for any sorcerer amongst the Huskar to cut off a finger as a symbol of their dedication to their people; the more valuable the finger, the more trustworthy the sorcerer is said to be (with index fingers and thumbs showing remarkable dedication, while a little finger is considered to be a token gesture, albeit a sizeable one). "A sorcerer's finger" is slang in Frokhdar for a gesture by someone powerful to show unity with those considerably less so, such as when a ship's captain lets his sailors have the first drinks from a fresh tankard.
Sorcerer's who cut off two or more fingers, it should be noted, are considered to just be trying to curry favour in a particularly stupid manner. One is sufficient.
Huskar clothing is usually practical in nature and typically involves many layers of sewn animal furs, but woven cloth is increasingly becoming a part of Huskar fashion. Someone who wears clothing primarily made of woven material is typically assumed (often correctly) to be a foreigner or independent and treated accordingly. Many Huskar keep dogs and wolves as pets, as well, but more exotic animals are treated the same as exotic clothing; snakes, particularly, have gained fame with politicians and sorcerers who do not engage with their clans, and so have a particularly vile reputation.
---
Merit: Thicker Than Water ● (Only available at character creation)
You are a witch or wizard of the Huskar and you wear the mark of your dedication proudly. What is a finger compared to the love of one's family? A crippled hand holding the hand of one's neighbour is better than a whole one alone. You made the choice between self and loved ones. This sacrifice has a powerful resonance. Now, whenever you cast any spell to aid someone, such as a healing spell or a buff, on someone other than yourself, you gain a +1 to the roll.
Drawback: You are missing a finger. Hope you don't like wearing untailored gloves without looking goofy.
Edit: Apologies to Grey. Swamp is next.
Seated at the far North-West of the known lands, Frokhdar is a chain of islands whose southernmost tip marks a narrow seaway and the western border of the known lands and what the Huskar call the spine of the world. The northernmost edge of the island's curving edge, meanwhile, sits at the very edge of what can be called habitable, with short summers and long, dark winters.
The Huskar have many stories of the origin of their lands and their people; some tell of a great, icy plain at the beginning of the world, which the Sun melted allowed to melt and night refroze, and into which flowed the milk of a great celestial cow (the trail of which can still be seen sprayed into the night sky), freezing and forming the first human; others say that Mankind were once as maggots, gnawing at the bones of the Giants of the Deep, until they ate of the flesh of those cunning ancients and became wise; and others still speak of the love of Mother Ocean and Father Sky, whose passions created the land and then threatened to crush it, so their tallest children - the mountains - set them apart and thus the world was born. These are a sample; there are many others, with similarities and differences to other cosmogenic tales found throughout.
For their part, the Huskar as a rule do not particularly care about where the world came from; the world is here, they will make use of it. As long as the story is good, the truth of it is largely irrelevant. This is why the Huskar consider the words historian, storyteller, and liar to be largely synonymous.
---
For centuries upon centuries, life on Frokhdar has been harsh, violent, and often short. The Huskar were suckled at the cold bossom of the ocean, and history has long seen the people of the archipelago turn to raiding - either those who live on the coasts to the south or each other, depending on how large and well-armed the raiding band was - to ensure their survival. In this harsh environment, one could not afford any more risks than one was born with, and so a culture flourished that emphasized a high value on kinship, honour, and oaths. Anyone who could not be trusted to keep and hold their word, or whose family would not stand beside them, was as good as dead; food for sharks and little more.
Today, this high emphasis on the sworn word and social bonds has led to a dramatic reshaping of the Huskar people. Over time, an inevitable conglomeration has occurred and, though it has taken centuries to reach fruition, the Huskar are perhaps one of the largest true democracies in existence in the world today. As families sought to solve feuds and ensure protection from raids, family groups swore pacts that bound them into tribes; tribes, in turn, formed pacts with other tribes to become bands for much the same reason; bands became alliances; and, eventually, these alliances became the Huskar.
The united peoples have stood together for over a century now, and it has not been an easy transition. The democracy of the Huskar was not planned but rather an organic contrivance, and so it is riddled with oddities and inefficiencies. Though time and well-intentioned attempts to smooth out some of the creases have worked away some of these problems, the hierarchy of loyalties still runs from the local to the distant, and so few alliances, bands, tribes, or families are willing to relinquish control or their capacity to run according to traditional lines (or change their minds whenever they feel like, should tradition no longer suit) to the nation purely for the sake of unity.
Still, for whatever it is worth, the Huskar have managed thus far. Traditionally, it is an ascending representative hierarchy, with each family having one vote in their tribe, each tribe having a vote in their band, each band having a vote in their alliance, and each alliance having a vote in the Grand Moot. Many have taken to electing chieftains or similar representatives, who are elected for a term or for life, and who hold the power to wield their (family/tribe/band/alliance)'s vote without consultation for the duration of this period. This has created a new political class within the Huskar; the career politician. This term is also synonymous for liar.
---
The transition from warring clans to democratic alliance has had a dramatic impact on the culture of the Huskar, first and foremost being the formation of a true economy. With the stability offered by no longer needing to fear one's lands being set ablaze and one's family slaughtered each winter, the Huskar have made prodigious use of their great talents in shipcraft, navigation, and warfare. The passages west of their islands and trade along the coast have come under their "protection", with heavy tariffs extracted in exchange for putting a halt to raiding. The Huskar have, despite the coercive nature of this bargain for many, been strikingly true to their word; those who fly the pennant of a Huskar clan are treated as family, and those who harm them are responded to accordingly. Similar is the treatment for those who fly the pennant without paying the tax.
Without needing fear being murdered on sight for their goods, traders and merchants have also started to make journeys to the archipelago, and Huskar tradesmen have started venturing out in kind. Though trading missions might occasionally become raids, these are largely legitimate, and the Huskar are building a reputation for being some of the best caravans to travel with when going through dangerous lands. Some have even become full-time transporters of goods, with everyone knowing that the oath of a Huskar sailor to make a delivery is about as solid a contract as one can get.
For many, these changes to more legitimate business are viewed as a good thing; the Huskar are growing wealthier and more well-fed without needing risk their necks nearly so often. At the same time, many view these days of trading and peace with suspicion; they sing the sagas and stories of great heroes who slew sea-monsters and razed castles with naught but their teeth and a very angry disposition. Easy life does not sit well with a people who are used to hardship and are fully aware of their strength. Even now, Huskar law resembles their history, with most disputes solved by duel and most crimes punished by a hefy fine or death. A fine might seem light for some but, to the Huskar, a cold death in winter because you cannot afford food or the strength to chop firewood makes an axe to the neck seem like a considerably lighter penalty.
Nowhere is the difference more noticeable than in what many Huskar consider a sacred institution: Theatre. To the Huskar, storytelling is a sacred art, with a story being important deemed vastly more important than any factuality. Yet, at the same time, they appreciate the idea of a story being true, even if they are well aware that it might not be. A claymore said to belong to your great-great-grandfather who wielded it against a storm demon is infinitely more impressive than simply telling the same story with the admission that it was made up.
Hence, the Huskar hold the performing arts as a kind of ritual worship, where ancestors and great heroes are made holy by the recitation of their tales. Every Huskar child knows at least a few favourite stories from start to finish and all the parts and roles in them. In the modern era, however, the import of trade brings with it the import of foreign ideas, foreign fashions, foreign sensibilities, and foreign stories; stories of a dramatic nature, rather than a mythical one; stories where the protagonists are ostensibly portrayed as heroic for performing acts that many Huskar find horrific, such as abandoning one's family to be with a lover or breaking a promise.
This has created a significant class division and a whole new class of citizen; those who live off their own wealth and are independently capable of surviving, shunning ties to family, tribe, or clan. These people are viewed as intrinsically untrustworthy, as their word means nothing to most Huskar; without the social ties that bind to keep them on the up-and-up, these people are effectively unpredictable. How can they be expected to be virtuous without threat of reprisal? By the same token, these independents offer that only they truly can be virtuous, by dint of choosing virtue instead of having it forced upon them.
Whomever is right in this argument, much blood has been spilled over it already. That the independents are often wealthy and, hence, often able to push political agendas by playing to the interests of various groups certainly doesn't help matters.
---
Every Huskar man and woman knows how to sing. It is born to them; the winds teach them when they are young and those who go to sea and at night and hear the wailing of the Giants of the Deep never forget such lessons. With life often requiring much hard work and pulling together, singing in unity is a good way to pass the time and learning work-songs is an excellent way to get everyone working to the same pace.
Most Huskar spend half their life on the water; their civilization exists on an archipelago, and so, even if they are intelligentsia whose hands are smooth and uncalloused, they must still travel by boat to get from place to place. Most Huskar, though, grow up working the land and fishing, no matter their station in life.
The general attitude of the Huskar towards magic is one of wariness, a fact that goes double for those who can call down the truly mighty arcane workings: Someone who wields sorcery is far, far less reliant on their fellows for survival and intrinsically has far more power over them. Thus, it is tradition for any sorcerer amongst the Huskar to cut off a finger as a symbol of their dedication to their people; the more valuable the finger, the more trustworthy the sorcerer is said to be (with index fingers and thumbs showing remarkable dedication, while a little finger is considered to be a token gesture, albeit a sizeable one). "A sorcerer's finger" is slang in Frokhdar for a gesture by someone powerful to show unity with those considerably less so, such as when a ship's captain lets his sailors have the first drinks from a fresh tankard.
Sorcerer's who cut off two or more fingers, it should be noted, are considered to just be trying to curry favour in a particularly stupid manner. One is sufficient.
Huskar clothing is usually practical in nature and typically involves many layers of sewn animal furs, but woven cloth is increasingly becoming a part of Huskar fashion. Someone who wears clothing primarily made of woven material is typically assumed (often correctly) to be a foreigner or independent and treated accordingly. Many Huskar keep dogs and wolves as pets, as well, but more exotic animals are treated the same as exotic clothing; snakes, particularly, have gained fame with politicians and sorcerers who do not engage with their clans, and so have a particularly vile reputation.
---
Merit: Thicker Than Water ● (Only available at character creation)
You are a witch or wizard of the Huskar and you wear the mark of your dedication proudly. What is a finger compared to the love of one's family? A crippled hand holding the hand of one's neighbour is better than a whole one alone. You made the choice between self and loved ones. This sacrifice has a powerful resonance. Now, whenever you cast any spell to aid someone, such as a healing spell or a buff, on someone other than yourself, you gain a +1 to the roll.
Drawback: You are missing a finger. Hope you don't like wearing untailored gloves without looking goofy.
Edit: Apologies to Grey. Swamp is next.
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