Land of Warriors
Lucanford
The land of icy winds that sing their ancient myths through the snow smothered forests. This unforgiving land is defined by its resilient warriors, who carve out lives amidst relentless storms and the prowling monsters.
From the Viking villages of Snagblack to the werewolf infested ruins of lore-forgotten Ashkeep, Lucanford teems with lost history waiting to be uncovered. hidden magic tangles its way through its tundras and trees.
Due to limitations within Squarespace the Live Map dose not function properly on mobile. Please try again on Desktop or enjoy scrolling down through all the lore sections!
Battlemaps set in this location
The relentless, icy winds of the tundra sculpt the landscape into an ever-shifting sea of snow, burying this ancient stead in a white veil that never melts. Yet, the indomitable Lucan people stand resolute, bound to this ancestral land by a history as deep as the snow drifts that blanket it. Hidden beneath the ice lie the graves of their most legendary ancestors, whispered to hold the secrets of old magic. Towering over all, the last remaining church of Dagon stands like a frozen monolith, guarding the past and the forgotten gods. And at the heart of it all, the mighty longhouse of the Dorn-Jarl rises from the snow, a beacon of defiance against the frost.
Seat of Snagblack
Light's Grave
The Carterous ground where a metor struck crudilex. The final resting place of the arch wizard Chase Urner. Legend says when night became day the wizard rode his final fury across the sky pulling all the fire of the heavens with him to rid the world of the binders.
Feygarten
The Age of Myths heralded the dawn of of this land, a time when untamed wilderness ruled what would become Lucanford and the Fey spirits reigned supreme over the expansive woodlands. Beneath the gnarled roots of a thousand-year oak, sprung from a crossing of let lines a hidden chamber cradles the essence of the seasons, home to four Dryads—each an archfey embodying the spirit of their respective season. Their cycles of waking and sleeping weave the delicate tapestry of nature’s balance.
In their tranquil sanctuary, the Dryads once dwelled in relative solitude, their ethereal presence harmonizing with the whispers of the forest. now the roots house only their altar. When left a gift a dryad may be summoned back to the thousand-year oak to share their ancient wisdom guiding Lucanford with their insight. Many of the jarlsmen worship the archfey and the seasons as their thanks for the generations of aid they have offered. Each of the Dryad bestows their magic upon a chosen champion, the greatest warrior from among their worshipers, empowering them to make decisions on their behalf, forging a connection between the mortal realm and the natural arcane forces that govern all of crudilex.
Mount Dornhald
In the northern heart of Lucanford, the imposing Mount Dornhald rises like a sentinel, its frozen vertical cliff faces gleaming in the frigid sunslight. Yawning chasms and treacherous ice create a formidable landscape, while blankets of snow obscure perilous paths that rise hundreds of feet into the thin, stinging air. The mountain is, without a question, inhospitable.
Yet, against all reason, once every ten years, tradition demands each of the four clans sends a brave brother to undertake the perilous journey to its summit. None return. No bodies are ever found, their fates forever shrouded in the mountain’s unforgiving legacy. And so, the myth claims: whoever conquers its heights will be graced by the ghost of Jarl Dorn, the first Lucan, and crowned as the new Dorn-Jarl.
Svardfurt
The seat of the Lucan armies, the walled city of Svardfort is buSvardfort, the towering bastion of the Lucan warbands, stands defiant atop a cliff of perma frost clawing at the sky. Carved from 3,000-year-old stone said to have been carried to the border one at a time from Mnt. Dorncrown, its walls bear the scars of countless battles. The Lucan lorekeepers sing prophecies of 10,000 endured sieges, repelled by blade. but in the sorrowful nights of winter the drone is a dirge of a darker sort—Svardfort will not fall to armies or iron, but crumble to a single word yet unspoken.
What that word is, no one knows, but the lesson, the lorekeepers will sing, is to sharpen the mind for endurance as honed as the blade. For fear of the word unspoken looms in every shadowy corner cast by the ancient stones of Svardfurt.
Ashkeep
The ruins of Ashkeep rise ominously against the skyline, like the headstone of a grave marking the age of civilization and splendor in Lucanford, long past. So ancient is this castle that The Svardfurt Lorekeepers sing it was first constructed during the Age of Myth thousands of years before the Dornjarl united Lucanford. The tale goes that its creators vanished without a trace, believed to have been vanquished by the formidable Long-Alpha Hazradorf, the Red Eyed King of all monsters.
Since that fateful day, the werewolves, proud descendants of Hazradorf, have claimed Ashkeep as their own, ruling over the castle and its surrounding lands with a brutal, primal savagery. The crumbling stone walls, overgrown with creeping ivy and shrouded in mist, whisper the lost that still echoes through the howls of the night, but few are brave or foolish enough to challenge the wild army and uncover the lost lore of the first among men- the early Lucan and the history of ashkeep.
Aarinwood
Aarinwood is home to the Aarin, forest critters awakened by the divine pollen of flowers known as Aarinlight. The woods are the birthplace of Vaaribi, the goddess of humility, quests, and personal growth. Before ascending to godhood, Vaaribi was merely a field mouse, and even after her ascension, she chose to remain in the guise of one, forgoing the usual grand forms of other deities.
Instead of claiming dominion, Vaaribi spread her divine essence across her homeland, granting all the creatures within consciousness and awakening them to self-awareness. Aarinwood remains secluded from the rest of Crudilex, and its true nature is yet to be discovered by the outside world, allowing its inhabitants to flourish and create their own miniature universe within the woods.
Finhald
The oft-besieged city of Finhald is the largest population center in Lucanford. Strategically nestled just south of the shadowy expanse of Bleakwood, north of the ghostly remnants of Sanhain, west of the frostbitten Thrymna Tundra, and east of the werewolf-claimed ruins of Ashkeep, it exists at a perilous crossroads.
Here, the air is thick with tension, and nowhere in the world is there a more urgent call for adventurers to rise to the challenge. If not for the courageous students of Dunwilt and the enchanted walls that protect them, Finhald would have fallen to ruin, its vibrant streets long abandoned.
Bleakwood Burrow
The Bleakwood Burrow is a foreboding dip in the earth where four rolling hills converge, creating not just a pit but a steep, yawning slope that seems to beckon in the foolishly curious. The area is erirely silent, the observant noticing a complete lack of animal sounds. Just a soft quiet wind and a shuffling of tall grass. Locals know to steer clear of this ominous hollow, for the chilling effects of gazing into its depths can unravel the fabric of the mind.
None who crest the rim and peer below emerge unchanged; something deep within them shifts. Most notably, an insatiable compulsion is ignited—a burning desire to return. Should you find yourself gazing into that cursed bowl-shaped hollow, be prepared to bind yourself at night, for the urge to return will gnaw at your soul like a relentless whisper. Families in Finhald have succumbed to this horror, vanishing without a trace and leaving behind all their earthly possessions. This dark affliction has come to be known as “the Wayfaring,” a haunting legend that grips the hearts of the Lucan of Finhald
Dunwilt University
Dunwilt University, a beacon of knowledge in Lucanford, is the youngest yet most influential magical institution in Lucanford. Initially founded to create a comprehensive library of the arcane arts unique to the region, the University’s mission took a dark turn when its founders unearthed the insidious Cult of the Void, whose roots stretch deep and wide, corrupting the learning of magic and quietly tempting magic users into dark, forbidden, and dangerous black magics. These zealous wielders of the dark art of Vyrask infiltrated every arcane institution before it, poisoning them from within and leading to all other magical schools in Lucanford to produce dark mages or crumble. Leaving Dunwilt as the final standing institution of magic in a society losing touch and faith in the arcane.
Now, the students and faculty of Dunwilt University dedicate themselves to the relentless struggle against this cult, engaging in a shadow war that may determine the future of Lucanford. Here, in the heart of Finhald, a conflict called ”the quiet war” rages fighting for the Lucan peoples future of knowledge or ignorance
Remohal Icefields
The unforgiving north is a realm of relentless challenges, a harsh expanse where survival is elusive even in the best of times. In the few civilizations that cling to existence, many people find the struggle to survive overwhelming. Nowhere is this more evident than in the treacherous Remohal Icefields. Towering glaciers rise frozen mountains, providing roosts for flying monsters, while mirrored ice caves harbor giants and elementals hungry and searching for those who have fallen to the elements.
But the true horror lies beneath the ice—an enormous shadow that casts an ominous pall over the frozen landscape, visible only from the heights of the nearby mountain. The Remohal Icefields are a breeding ground for legendary beasts, each one fueling the myriad myths and tales that echo through Lucanford’s history, reminding all who venture here of the untamed power of this inhospitable cold.
The keep of brawnwall is the shield barrier of the Remohal Icefeilds where all labor of mysThe Keep of Brawnwall hild vigil as a formidable shield against the relentless expanse of the Remohal Icefields, Here, darkness dances with the chill, and elusive unknown creatures probe for the village for weaknesses. the Lucan here hunt the beasts that cross the ice. In these lands, monster hunting is not just a trade; it’s a way of life, steeped in danger and valor.
Brawnwall is the last bastion of civilization before venturing into the uncharted realm of Algere and the Far Northern Ice, a place where few dare to tread and even fewer return. As the night deepens and the temperature plummets, the brave and the foolhardy alike gather around the bonfires, knowing that beyond the village lies a wilderness of unknown eyes watching at the edge of the shadows and their ancient secrets just waiting to be uncovered.
Bastion of Brawnwall
Wanderfar village
The sleepy stone-brick village of Wanderfar is a serene haven, where time seems to slow amid the towering redwoods that embrace it. The chilly air is filled with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant songs of birds. Locked in a forever tranquility that envelops its small population.
Though Wanderfar has little to boast about in terms of grandeur or wealth, its charm lies in its isolation, far from the borders where conflict brews. Here, the villagers find solace in their quiet, simple lives, savoring the peace that the natural world bestows upon them, making each day a gentle reminder of the beauty that is possible in peace.
Redwoods of Hel
Towering redwood trees, reaching impossibly high into the sky, cast the entire southern region of Lucanford in a twilight all their own. Beneath their branches, the forest floor is a world itself, blanketed in pine needles. These ancient giants, stretching for more than 500 miles across lucanford, are the unchallenged rulers of this untamed land. Beyond the two settlements of Clearfelling and Wanderfar, the wild here is thick, filled with secrets that have remained lost for unknown ages. Few are brave enough to venture far into the redwoods here, for the deeper one goes, the less the world outside seems to matter, swallowed by the forest. Some say the land is cursed by a wishdrake, but non have been seen in the modern age.
Clearfelling
Clearfelling is an enigmatic pith settlement, shrouded in a thick, swirling purple fog that obscures everything within. The pith who inhabit this hidden enclave have severed ties with their larger culture, becoming a reclusive, unwelcoming, and secretive people. Its exact location is a well-guarded secret, known only to a select and trusted few.
In Lucanford, whispers, rumors, and suspicion surround the pith of Clearfelling, their presence stirring unease among the people. Many believe they are in league with the sinister Cult of the Void or are bearers of unfathomable aberrations. Yet, if such dark affiliations exist, the pith of Clearfelling remain silent. their motives shrouded in secrecy and enigma, leaving the curious and the fearful alike to wonder what truly lies within the fog.
Birch River Accent
The river from the low moonfall basin up to the greatness at is lined with a very disorienting birch forest. Millions of completely identical trees line the climbing hills of the Accent making the landscape have almost no distinguishing characteristics, and very easy to become turned around in. So much in fact that few travelers in this region go by land, either rafting down the river or wading back up it- hard to get lost when the only path into or down!
The Greatnest
The Greatnest is the primary settlement of the Coranth, a young race of moth-like humanoids driven by their core values of peace and balance. They live in communistic colonies known as nests, with the Greatnest being the largest of them all. In these nests, resources are shared equally, and any surplus is directed toward the most vulnerable members of the community. Outsiders often view their communal approach to ownership and equity as naïve, but the Coranth’s nests flourish and thrive throughout Crudilex.
The Greatnest itself is a massive silkweave structure built atop a hilltop spring. From a distance, it resembles a large hanging hut, but up close, its true scale becomes evident. The structure towers five or six stories tall, made from a paper-mâché-like material, with countless openings and balconies. These spaces all connect to a massive central area, which serves as a public vegetable garden. The Greatnest is home to the largest Coranth community, and like most nests, it is guided—not ruled—by a Queen. The Queen decides where new nests will be built and lays a new generation of Coranth every decade.
Moonfall Lake
Once a quaint, though isolated village, the entire area was obliterated when a magical artifact was recklessly activated by the local mayor, summoning ten meteor elementals. These strange beings, capable of manipulating gravity and magnetism, were composed of chunks from the shattered moon, once captured by Crudilex. They descended from the sky, annihilating the village and leaving nothing but a massive crater. Over time, the local river diverted into this crater, giving birth to what is now known as Moonfall Lake.
Few dare venture near it, as the giant meteor elementals still roam the region. Rumor has it that when the mayor was killed, the artifact he used was lost in the chaos. It's said that whoever finds the artifact could gain control over the elementals, but despite many attempts, it has remained undiscovered for decades.
The dead forests of Sanheim are cast in an ever-present gloom. Nothing can grow; the landscape appears as night regardless of the time of day. Local legends say a curse befell the lord who once called it home. When his eldest son was murdered by his youngest, he begged the town witch to use the Vyrask to restore him. sadly her control of the Fettering Vyrask not only failed but also backfired. The Lord and all life within his holdings died instantly, while the witch who performed the dark sacrament was cursed to remain in the forest, banished to a limbo between the Void and Crudilex for all eternity.
The connection to the Void has turned the forest into a pilgrimage site for black magic users from Lucanford and a favored haunt of the Cult of the Void. However, even these dark figures never dare to pass its threshold, for all who enter the forbidden woods never leave.
Sanheim: The Cursed Wood
CULTURE
Rulership
The Dorn-Jarl:
The Dorn-Jarl is the unquestioned ruler of Lucanford, reigning for life unless challenged and defeated in combat. When a challenge is issued, the challenger chooses between shield or axe, determining whether the battle will be fought one-on-one or in a 30-man shield wall. The victor claims rulership over all of Lucanford. This is the sole method of selecting a new Dorn-Jarl, with the notable exception of climbing the treacherous Mount Dornhald—a feat deemed impossible by many.
The Dean of Dunwilt:
While the Jarls of Lucanford are warrior kings, leading with strength and endurance, the culture remains inherently suspicious of magic and lacks aptitude for higher learning. Thus, when matters arise that cannot be solved through brute force or a shield wall, the Dorn-Jarl often seeks the counsel of the Witches of Dunwilt University, relying on their expertise for complex issues.
Food.
Food in Lucanford:
Food is scarce for much of the year in Lucanford. Outside of hunting game, the permafrost beneath the soil makes farming nearly impossible, and the freezing temperatures during half of the year severely limit livestock raising. The notable exception is the Basana—massive, woolly buffalo-like creatures that are hardy enough to survive the harsh climate.
Cuisine of the Bastion of Brawnwall:
Monster hunting and consuming beasts one has slain personally are key aspects of cuisine in the Bastion of Brawnwall. It is believed that eating the flesh of a slain monster empowers the spirit, transferring the strength or ferocity of the creature to the hunter.
Holidays
Dornreach:
Celebrated on the first day of every decade, each Jarldom in Lucanford selects a champion to attempt the impossible climb to the peak of Mount Dornhald. These individuals are considered sacrifices to Dorn, the first Lucan, and few ever return from the treacherous ascent.
Aarinbloom:
A rare annual event, the bloom of the Aarinlight flower is a breathtaking spectacle in northeastern Lucanford. This tiny, delicate flower glows when it blossoms, and its appearance is brief. As the flowers release their shining pollen into the air, the icy landscape is illuminated by a beautiful, dancing shower of white lights carried on the wind.
Taboos
Speaking Ill of the Fey:
In Lucanford, the fey and nature are inextricably intertwined. There is no green without the fey, and to speak ill of them is to risk wishing them away—along with all the vegetation upon which the Lucan rely to survive the harsh winters. The Lucan people's fervent worship of the fey is deeply connected to their desperate need for survival, as their existence in such a harsh climate depends on the life that the fey help sustain.
Dowsing a Fire in the Winter:
In Lucanford, it is considered bad luck to extinguish a fire during winter or in the midst of a snowstorm. The superstition holds that someone may come along, freezing and on the brink of death, just as the last coals are put out. All fires must be allowed to burn down naturally, for if a traveler perishes in the icy winds due to a prematurely doused flame, they may return as a draugr—an undead spirit bent on eternal vengeance against the one who broke the tradition.
Turmoil
The Cult of the Void;
a secretive and dangerous group of warlocks, uses forbidden magic to grant influence in this world driven by avarice. Through acts of sacrifice, kidnapping, and dark rituals at rural altars, the cult praises Monodono, the god of secrets, offering all they can in exchange for access to forbidden knowledge. Eradicating the cult is a major priority for both jarls and kozos, yet the more cult centers they root out, the more they seem to uncover. A growing fear among the leaders of the land is that the cult may have the ability to manipulate minds, making them even harder to root out and dismantle.
The Sky Khan Böral;
The Khanate sky giants hold dominion over the entire north of the Lucanford. The wild icelands that stretch beyond the reach of the average traveler and all along the Algere Siarrias. During blizzards and storms, the Khan leads his giants over the mountains to raid the cities, capture captives, livestock, and iron, which they value above all other treasures.
The Frigid Descent:
Deep within the bowels of the glacial caverns at the edge of lucanford and down through the cracks in the buried permafrost lie massive, otherworldly bones of ancient dead titans—forming bridges and descending stairways. Adventurers brave enough can venture lower and lower, plunging into the heart of the world. Some believe these depths lead not only to the Sunless Sea but also down into hell, reaching the Void itself. From this glowering maw of the world, nameless creeping shadows emerge: Abyssal demons resembling twisted, contorted reflections of surface dwellers, known as Apoths. These warped things crawl up from the darkness, seeking their living counterparts to murder… and replace.
Trivia
Naming:
If you are the first son or daughter, you take the name of the place you are from (e.g., Leron of Feygarten). This tradition stems from the belief that the firstborn child will achieve greater things than their parents and needn't carry their father's name, thus leaving it behind to bring honor to their heralding instead of their family.
Adoption:
Adoption is very common in Lucanford, as the harsh landscape allows for very few to reach old age. If you are adopted into a family, you take the name of the father (e.g., Shallan, son of Dorn) to honor him for raising you when he had no obligation to do so. It is customary to adopt the children of a man you kill if they are not yet of age.
Rite of the three sisters:
A man born in the north is expected to prove himself in the eyes of his Dorn-Jarl. This is accomplished through a rite of passage. On the first night under the Stars of Fordum, all boys aged 13 must travel alone to the frosty mountain of Three sisters of Northlend in the Shaltheeth Alps where they must crave a family totem to leave behind, and retrieve the family totem their fathers have left behind when they made the journey themselves as boys. Those who never return are neither sought after nor publicly mourned; instead, they are burned in a quiet funeral rite.