Also, I'm playing with a slightly different format this week, do you like it?
Into the White
North of the Red Veins lies the tundra, a wild untamed plain that stretches north to the pole. A good two thirds of it is snow and ice, though the southern parts of it are covered in a thin, rough scrub land. Sharoban's scholars refer to lower, middle and upper tundra, each term reflecting how much food and cover there is there.
In the lower tundra, red grasses grow over jutting rocks in wild tumbles. In many ways there is little to distinguish the land above the mountains with that below it, except that it is more scoured by the wind and emptier of human life. Higher up snow and ice start to choke the land, transforming it into a dramatic, but harsh environment that is a struggle to survive in. At the very height of the upper tundra the ground falls away to the sea and pack ice. Few people live in the far north, it is the domain of beasts. Across the tundra, there are almost no communities, even nomadic tribes are rare and those that do spend their lives crossing the tundra are strange and clannish, unwilling to trade or communicate with anyone.
The tundra is bordered to the west by the Ice Princedoms, tiny demenses held in thrall by the Jorvin Empire, which constantly feud among themselves, and to the east by the northern Witch Lands, ruled by Yelena, Queen of the Rapturous Blizzard who has sought ascension to a sort of goddesshood for decades. Between these two features of political geography, lies a vast waste unfettered by anything but shifting borders, open to exploration and in many places frustratingly empty. Despite this there are points of interest in the great whiteness, though they are few and far between. Many lie close to the Red Veins, close enough for some shelter when the storms grow really violent.
Werewolves of the Waste
Followers of the Hunter venture into the north to kill and maim animals, safe in the knowledge they will be unmolested. The Hunter approves, the men and women who venture into the ice fields to kill are often granted his favour, including the power to alter their shape at will, becoming werewolves and werebears. The cost is their sanity, they become obsessed with the hunt and unable to relate to people as anything other than prey or potential mates. They war upon each other, battling and hunting one another with their patron's blessing. Ascended to be the ultimate predators, victory over each other becomes the ultimate prize in such an unforgiving environment.
Few and far between the werewolves never return to more populated lands once they have changed. Instead they stay in the north, indulging in the hunt, limiting their interactions with humans to the nomadic tribes, though this usually takes the form of raiding and pillaging. It is at least partially because of this that the few tribes who travel across the north are suspicious and want little or nothing to do outsiders.
The Caribou Tribes
It is not uncommon for the northern tribes, called Caribou Tribes in Sharoban, to subject anyone who wants to speak or trade with them to insist on a series of tests, which usually involves some element of daring to go naked in the snow. The official reason for this is that it allows the tribesmen to see that the visitor is one with the snow. In truth they are looking for brands and marks that would suggest a pact or service to dark gods, although even the Luminal Pantheon is viewed with distrust and their priests welcomed cautiously. This is a legacy of their dealings with the Hunter's followers. Winter presents a problem, there is barely enough light to check newcomers and tribes close their backs to the world, conscious that the long night makes them prime targets for werewolves. They also have to cope with the occasional Hobgoblin attacks, though these are rare. The Goblins prefer to stay close to their food supplies, even if they are capable of hunting far and wide to find prey; they are a cowardly species and the wide openness of the tundra is alien to them.
The tribes themselves are not farmers or even herders. They follow the caribou for the most part, but exert no control over them; not even attempting to guide their path as the nomads of the steppes do. As a result of this it can be hard for them to keep contact with other people and whilst they have a great deal of knowledge of the tundra, it is patchy. Their maps might have vast gaps in it as a result of the winding, difficult routes they've taken. Their cultures are often strange too, very individualistic with few ties to the outside world. The only commonalities are a devotion to light as a source of spiritual nourishment and the idea that the spirits of the dead travel with the tribe even after death. It isn't uncommon for children to be considered as the reincarnations of dead tribe members; though it isn't clear what the basis for this belief is.
The most important figure in the tribe, universally, is the shaman. These figures guide the tribe's steps, beholden to the spirits of light and the 'king deer', the leader of the caribou herd the tribe follows. The most skilled shamans are so in tune with their herds they read the future in the caribous' movements as they walk among them, so much a part of the herd that the deer do not shy away at their approach. Shamans are universally male; eunuchs who are chosen at birth, on the basis that they were shamans in previous lives. Often these children seem to prove the belief that they are reincarnated; apparently remembering places and people they could not possibly know if they had not lived before. Whilst the other tribe members dress drably in furs and thick wool, the shaman cuts a colourful figure, clad in garish cloth with unlikely crowns of horns and feathers to symbolise their link to the spirit world perched upon their heads.
The Winter Wolves
Aside from the threat posed by the werewolves, the other main threat out on the tundra is also lupine in nature. The winter wolves are a particular breed of wolf whiter, larger and hardier than their grey cousins. It is unknown where they originate from, but they are fearsome and merciless. Worryingly intelligent they attack tribes and the few caravans throughout the year, showing no fear of the weapons humans wield, or even fire. An attack can destroy a small tribe, or caravan, leaving corpses strewn across the snow; cruelly the wolves seldom eat everything they slay.
Some say they are the get of werewolves, born from a dalliance between one of the Hunter's own and an alpha male wolf; others believe they are simply another group who made a pact that went wrong. Still more attribute them to a mad shaman who sent the spirits of the dead into a pack of wolves, transforming them into a terrifying danger in the process. The truth may never be known, anyone who knows it is almost certainly dead and there are only so many secrets that the reborn souls of the Caribou Tribes divulge.
There is also a children's story about a wolf prince who fell in love with a mortal woman and drew her out into the tundra snows. They married and had cubs, and would have lived happily every after if it hadn't been for a wicked shaman who wanted the prince's power and kidnapped the woman in order to get it. The story says that the wolves are so fierce because they seek their urmother, imprisoned somewhere among the snows.
The Beacon and the Lake
Sitting to the north of the area most often travelled by the Caribou Tribes, the most important place within the tundra is arguably Lake Ajaya, the giant frozen lake that dominates the centre of the tundra. The lake is dotted with islands, bare pieces of rock which rise out of the ice. At the shore groups of pilgrims gather, having hacked their way through the snow and ice. Different groups come from more than one faith, though it is more common for the followers of the dark gods to make their way to the lake. It is said that one of the principal generals of the dark gods' forces in the Eclipse War was imprisoned here and the worshippers are drawn here to reverence the memory of the dark spirit. They make sacrifices on the islands, seeking to find a way to free the general from its icy jail.
The worshippers of the Luminal Gods maintain a watch house, the Beacon, at the southern point of the lake. This battered building stands tall, its light shining through the uppermost windows throughout the winter months, the fire constantly attended to keep it from shrinking or growing too much. It is maintained by the priesthood of Merida after a handful of her priests were motivated to create it when stories of the dark spirit under the ice filtered down to Sharoban. The outpost finds it hard to survive, not least because getting supplies is hard. In addition the spirit in the lake objects to their presence, sending ice warriors, gleaming soldiers made entirely of ice, to besiege it during the winter months. It is said that to die in the waters of the lake binds you to them, and more, it traps you in the demon's power. The ghastly screams that rise from the ice warriors as they fall under mercenaries' blades are said to be those of souls imprisoned in the lake. As a result the priests frequently send requests to Sharoban for assistance and the city's adventuring reputation means that even for such an unpleasant task there are willing blades to travel north with the final wood supply the Beacon receives for the winter.
It is common for the priests to bless fallen ice warriors, hoping the benediction will release them from their bondage. A slim hope, sadly unfounded in fact. The Beacon's custodian, Anya Coldheart, has concluded anyone who dies in the lake's waters is bound there for eternity. Even recovering dead bodies from the waters and cremating them does nothing to alleviate the suffering of the trapped souls; they rise again from the waters, clutching weapons that are as much part of them as their arms and legs.
Anya has invested a great deal of time trying to discover the name of the lake's prisoner, but has only been able to discern that it is an ice demon of great power. She has a theory that the prisoner was responsible for the Ice Walker that attacked Sharoban many centuries ago and has started to offer a reward for anything that might supply proof. The sell swords who venture north to defend the Beacon frequently find themselves sent further north to look for evidence to support Anya's theory.
This may be one reason for the high turnover of warriors at the Beacon, it is rare for anyone to remain there for more than one winter and most swear they will never return when they return to Sharoban. It is one thing to defend a watchtower from silent, eerie hordes of ice soldiers, quite another to risk the perpetual storms in order to find evidence for a lunatic theory most of them do not think matters. Add to that the biting cold, the threat of winter wolves and the Hunter's followers and it is perhaps more of a wonder that the staff who man the Beacon all year remain.
The dark worshippers do their best to steal past the Beacon, heading to a labyrinth of caves on the eastern edge of the lake. Here, they take the path to the lowest caves, where the air is frigid and the water freezing. Long icicles hang from the roof, animal corpses are set within blocks of ice and frozen as offerings to the demon in the lake. Even her acolytes do not know her name, though she associated with a bewildering number of the Shadow Pantheon. The purpose of the long pilgrimage is two fold, many make the journey to offer prayers or sacrifices, others to enter the waters and bind themselves to the demon in a far more intimate fashion. It is an uncomfortable fact that over half the souls that go to create the ice warriors are volunteers.
The leader of the cave community is a hermit, who has dwelt on the shores of the lake for so long he has forgotten his own name, answering only to 'Macka'. His chief function is to prepare the sacrifices for their descent into the watery depth of Lake Ajaya, binding them so they cannot change their minds and guiding them into a trance so that fear will not overwhelm them as they sink below the surface. Under his tutelage the sacrifices cut a hole in the ice and descend, letting the ice freeze over their heads. If asked what happens next he grunts and mutters something about the demon ripping the supplicants' souls free of their flesh, binding them with unseen chains.
Despite their best efforts the staff at the Beacon have been unable to find the caves the dark worshippers operate out of, whenever they get close something intervenes to turn them away. Macka claims that it is the demon in the lake but the pilgrims are not sure. Much as they would like to believe him, most of them do not believe she cares if they live or die. Nevertheless for the moment the community prospers, and without doubt something watches over them, for good or for ill.
Next time: We head east to the Witch Tribes' lands, to uncover their secrets.
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