Land of Warriors
Lucanford
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Battlemaps set in this location
The northernmost holding of Lucanford where the longhouse of the king of Lucanford, called the Dorn-Jarl. The relentless, cutting, icy winds blowing in from western tundra carve the rocky mountain landscape into an ever-shifting sea of snow, burying the realm in white all year round. It is as harsh a place as one can find in Lucanford, and so serves as the center of its governance. Resilience is a cultural moral standing to the Lucan people. To remain indomitable, bound to this ancestral land, Their leader must endure the harshest it has to offer.
Snagblack clan are fervent worshipers of the fey and believe the wrath of the elements to be the clear indicator of their will. The frozen earth is filled with legendary ancestors, warriors who fought and died to protect or claim the Seat of Snagblack.
Seat of Snagblack
Light's Grave
The craterous ground where a meteor 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. His wrath brought down upon the cursed feterers whose cults gathered here, giving up his great divine power to end the use of dark magic once and for all.
Feygarten
The Age of Myths heralded the dawn of this land, a time when untamed wilderness ruled what would become Lucanford and the fey reigned over the expansive woodlands. Beneath the gnarled roots of a thousand-year oak a hidden chamber cradles the essence of the seasons, home to the archdryads, each an archfey personifying their respective season. Their cycles of waking and sleeping weave the tapestry of nature’s balance.
In their 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 a dryad is left a gift, they may be summoned back to the thousand-year oak to share their ancient wisdom. Many of the jarlsmen worship the archfey and the seasons as their thanks for the generations of aid they have offered. Each of the dryads bestow their magic upon a chosen champion. These greatest warriors from among their worshipers are empowered to make decisions on their behalf. Becoming a bridge between the mortal realm and the druidic forces that govern all of nature.
Mount Dornhald
In the northern heart of Lucanford, the imposing Mount Dornhald rises like an armored sentinel, its frozen vertical cliff faces gleaming in the frigid sunlight. 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 clans sends a brave brother to undertake the perilous journey to its summit. None return. No bodies are ever found, their fates carved into the mountain’s unforgiving legacy. Whoever conquers its heights will be graced by the ghost of Jarl Dorn, the first Lucan, and crowned as the new Dorn-Jarl to rule over Lucanford.
Svardfurt
A monastery along Lucanford’s southern border, Svardfurt is a towering stone sword chiseled from the mountain. The Lucan clans raid and war among each other for influence or territory across all of the nation, but here. With no written language, the Lucan have relied on the Songkeepers of Svardfurt to retain their legends and record the feats of all of Lucanford’s warriors. The clans gather to hear their songs in the spring festivals. In the sorrowful nights of winter, their drones echo over the quiet hills as a dirge.
The warriors rely so entirely upon the Songkeepers for all forms of education that they have become obsessed with their protection. But they have a song they still sing, one of the looming end of Svardfurt, “the word unspoken.” They say that the monastery has withstood 10,000 raids, but will only truly crumble at the utterance of a single word yet unspoken. What that word is, they do not know, but the lesson, the Songkeepers sing, that all seasons must pass. That their melodies might spill down from the mountains over the icy lake to echo on, to be heard by all the hills and trees of Lucanford forever. They hone their voices and endure the fear of the word unspoken that hangs heavy over the Svardfurt.
Ashkeep
The ruins of Ashkeep rise ominously against the skyline, like a headstone of Lucanford’s past. So ancient is this castle that the Svardfurt Songkeepers sing songs of its creation thousands of years ago in the Age of Myth. Their songs say that its creators were eaten whole by the werewolf Hazradorf, the Red Eyed King of all monsters. Since that day the wolf’s descendants have claimed Ashkeep as their own. They rule over the castle and its surrounding lands with a brutal, primal savagery. 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 its creatures consciousness and blessing them with 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. The air of Finhald is always 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 long ago.
Bleakwood Burrow
The Bleakwood Burrow is a foreboding dip in the earth where four rolling hills converge creating a steep slope that seems to beckon in the foolishly curious. The area is silent, save for the whistle of a soft quiet wind and the shuffling of tall grass. Locals steer clear of this ominous hollow, for gazing too long 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 hollow, be prepared to bind yourself at night, for the urge to return will gnaw at your soul with relentless whispers. 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 legend that haunts the hearts of the Lucan of Finhald.
Dunwilt University
The prestigious Dunwilt University is the most influential magical institution in Lucanford and much of the world beyond. 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 Cult of the Void. These wielders of the dark art of Vyrask infiltrated every arcane institution across Lucanford, poisoning them from within and leading to either their corruption or destruction.
Dunwilt University is the last vestige of magic in the country as Lucan society loses faith in the arcane. The students and faculty of Dunwilt University dedicate themselves to the relentless struggle against this cult, engaging in a shadow war with them. Dunwilt and Finhald are the battleground between the school and the cult battling away from the eyes of the people they mean to influence, a conflict called ”the quiet war” fighting for the Lucan peoples' arcane future.
Remohal Icefields
The unforgiving north is a realm of relentless challenges, a harsh expanse where survival is elusive even in the best of times. Nowhere is this more true than in the treacherous Remohal Icefields. Towering glaciers rise like frozen mountains, providing roosts for flying monsters, while mirrored ice caves harbor sky giants and elementals hungry and searching for weary travelers.
Beneath the ice, an enormous shadow 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 the monsters of Lucanford’s past.
The Keep of Brawnwall held vigil as a formidable shield against the relentless expanse of the Remohal Icefields. Elusive unknown creatures probe the village for weaknesses. Clan Brawnwall hunts the beasts that cross the ice. They treat monster hunting as a trade like any other. Warriors are no less common than fishermen, and the slaying of creatures in battle is treated the same as catching a large fish.
Brawnwall is the last bastion of civilization before venturing into the uncharted realm of Algere and the far northern Ice where few lucan dare to tread. As the nights deepen and the temperatures plummet, the brave and the foolhardy alike gather around the bonfires, knowing that beyond the village lies a wilderness of hungry eyes watching at the edge of the shadows. They endure, Brawnwall is a culture without fear.
Bastion of Brawnwall
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. These ancient trees stretch for hundreds of miles across southern Lucanford. Beyond the two settlements at the forest's edge, Clearfelling and Wanderfar is cursed by a wishdrake. Legends speak of the wishdrake's untold power. It can sculpt the world around it to it’s whim and bend reality. Hunters from the Brawnwall clan have made many journeys to try and track the beast but there has yet to be any sign of it in the modern age. Yet the wood is thick and filled with secrets. The deeper one goes, the less the world outside seems to matter, the foolish who venture too deep are swallowed by the forest.
Wanderfar village
The sleepy stone-brick village of Wanderfar is a safe haven, where life seems to slow in the sun-dappled light of the towering redwoods that surround it. The chilly air is filled with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant songs of birds. Though Wanderfar has little to boast about, its charm lies in its isolation, far from the borders where conflict brews. The villagers find solace in their quiet, simple lives, savoring the peace that the natural world offers them and the humble community they keep around.
Clearfelling
Clearfelling is a 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 and secretive people. Its exact location is a well-guarded secret, known only to a select and trusted few. In Lucanford whispers 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 affiliations exist, the pith of Clearfelling remain silent. Due to the superstitious nature of Lucan culture, Dunwilt scholars have attributed many of the legends of the redwoods to this reclusive culture."
The dead forests of Sanheim are gripped by ever-present gloom. Nothing can grow, and the landscape is shrouded in the darkness of night regardless of the time of day. Local myth says 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 Vyrask failed. 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 mages and made it a favored haunt of the Cult of the Void.
Sanheim: The Cursed Wood
Moonfall Lake
Once a quaint, though isolated village, the entire area was obliterated when an artifact called the Cloudstone was recklessly activated by the local mayor. Ten meteor elementals fell from the moon, called down upon the town. These strange beings, capable of manipulating gravity and magnetism, were composed of chunks from the shattered moon, Noctra. The devastation left nothing but a massive crater. Over time, the local river diverted into this crater, giving birth to what is now known as Moonfall Lake.
It is avoided by most since the giant meteor elementals still roam the region. The story goes that when the mayor was killed, the artifact he used was lost in the chaos. It's said that whoever finds the Cloudstone could gain control over the elementals, but despite many attempts, it has remained undiscovered for decades.