Backstory:
I was born into an unremarkable family of carpenters and servants in the northernmost reaches of the world. Our settlement, we called it Long Night, was a small gathering of wooden longhouses surrounding a large bonfire, kept from setting the forest alight by an artisan, stone gazebo. The heat from that fire was incredible, even managing to heat the north's frigid cold. Long Night was in the midst of a densely forested region we knew as Fjord; Cold, wet and often foggy or snowy. We were dug in to avoid the cold of the harsh north and built to last, warm-- enough, and somewhat comfy, even for us poorer people. The Lucins couldn't have their workers chilled to the bone every night, could they? More on them later.
We were on the very edges of that forest and stretching out before it further to the north was the Tundra. A white ocean of flat, snow covered waste with some mountains visible on the horizon. These mountains became something of an icon of our beliefs in that anyone who set out that way, never came back, likely frozen to death. We came to believe that it was the seat of gods and those very few worthy an audience would make it through. Such was the distance from any other settlement, that we had almost never heard from another group of people in ages. It suited us just fine.
As for myself and my family, my Father worked as a carpenter before retirement and Mother was a maid in the Lucin garrison we were 'honoured' with in later years. I also had a cousin, Tavish, who, apart from being my role-model, moved between settlements offering employ as a cartographer and hunter. Most of my early childhood is a bit hazy; Iâve not got the best of memories but there is a strong recollection of wood chippings, the smell of pine and enough to get by and not go to bed starving every night.
Growing up in that simple household, we had to make the best of what we had; the situation did not improve even during the massive influx of work after the conclusion of the Veld War. Around eight years, I took to working with Father, managing to handle simple tasks, like repairing and making simple tools and furniture because, I'm not afraid to say, I wasn't the brightest kid. I didn't learn much from Mother's line of work, only how to behave 'properly' and speak like I 'belonged in a civilised society'.
It was also around this time that the Thane of our town came to my family. I wasn't allowed to hear what was said, kept locked up in my space by the Thane's personal guard. After some time, for a child eager to hear news anyway, they told me. They had the honour of raising one of a new group Northmarkin. Me. Both a blessing and a bane on my existence. This meant that for the next dozen years, I would be taken from my home every day and taught how to hunt, survive, fight and represent my people. I was overjoyed; other northmarkin before me were truly magnificent figures. I remembered fondly the day Northmark Indrik slew a Tundra Wurm with a broken sword and a door as a shield.
But, as my cousin told me, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Early on, I was tattooed with the traditional colours of the Northmark and branded on the back of both hands with both the Northmark emblem and motto and 'Sulena's Sigil'. Until the next major event of my town's quiet and traditional history, I was force fed month after month of etiquette, morals, skill and steel. At the time, I thought through the pain and regular beatings and brandings for my mistakes and sins it would all be worth it. That one day I'd be like Indrik, slaying tundra wurms and making my people proud. I wasn't wrong, things did change, but not for the better. Definitely not for the better.
Without much of a proper, general education, (A small settlement in the back end of nowhere, there wasn't much reason beyond learning your family's trade) I was able to focus on more specific skills; Carpentry like Father and, with my cousin nearby for the next few years, archery and survival in the wilds of the world. Many was the day I would practice my archery with Tavish when not working or training to be a Northmark, apparently showing some talent with a bow, more so than in other fields. I'm not so sure, myself. I'm fairly certain many can use a bow as well as I can. Three hours a day of shooting a target is good to keep your head clear and eyes sharp.
This would continue until I was 12, when the town, its people and my destiny was turned upside down by tall, pale men with blue, glowing eyes and blades drawn.
During my twelfth year, our town of Long Night started to get visitors. After a while, the unnatural fog that separated us from the other territories lifted and the trackless woodland became far easier to get through. From all over the northern territories, even Dark Meadow Keep and Solace Valley, interested in cultural heritage, tradition and our history of valiant Northmarkin and their deeds and our survival for so bloody long. It was good to see that we were finally being taken back into the reaches of others, like family who had seen one another in ages. There were festivities, laughter, fun... and xenophobic murder.
News began to spread, by word of mouth, that war was raging in the south. To begin with, we were concerned that the Lucins would try and take us unawares, being a secluded area and in a climate they preferred it was only logical to think they would. It didn't seem realistic to think that another group would try it, being as far out as we were and we had a few strong neighbors. The only credible threat was the Lucins. As time went by, the tension slowly eased off and, in our infinite naivety, believed that war would not spread to our land. How wrong we were.
Indrik fell first. He came home to us, battered and bloodied, barely even lucid as he rode into the centre of Long Night limply on the back of his steed. He died before he even made it to the apothecary. At first, we pointed fingers wildly in our grief, accusing our neighbors and asking questions which, soon, pushed them away, fearing that we would declare war with those we once called brother and sister. Again, how wrong we were. We realized our mistake in the same week, when tall, pale men in armour of gleaming silver, blue and gold filigree came with weapons high.
Without warning, the platoon-or-so men-at-arms still defended us were caught in a simple noose and strangled. We offered no challenge to the Lucins' superior force and powers, especially not in the amplifying conditions of our climate. There were rumours that our defenders hit the lucins first, but no one could be sure. Or they were just too embarrassed to tell the rest of us that they set us up for some bad days.
So, with the skirmish over, townsfolk were rounded up and the surviving men-at-arms lined up. They, and a few defenseless people, old, young and weak were 'made an example of' and the thoroughfare through the centre of Long Night was coloured an interesting new colour called 'Hint of Northman-Blood'. As luck would have it, my family was mostly untouched by this sacking, but people I'd known all my life before weren't so lucky and they were never the same. Which, as you can imagine, is where my dislike of those... things comes from.
With that, our Thane was replaced with stricter laws imposed by our new leaders in the Lucins. They managed the settlement, oversaw our production for the coming years and, of course, garrisoned the settlement and claimed a hefty chunk of the surrounding territory. They let us have some of our lives in exchange for our labour.
Soon after, lumber mills and workshops sprung up all through the surrounding woods, laying claim to huge areas of woodland to fuel the demands of their effort to keep the peace among the Mesalian groups. I worked in one of those workshops myself, crafting tools or using what was made in the smiths into usable weapons. My family werenât the worst off, so we had something good going for us, I suppose.
Anyway, no, I wasn't keen on those glow-ey buggers, the Lucins. I've seen people worked to death in forges and treated to corporeal punishment disproportionate to their crime. And they thought it was good that I had blue eyes "Oh, maybe they'll like you a little more than the rest of us". Pah. Bloodthirsty maniacs with no respect for anyone but one of their own number. Not exactly the best managers either.
There was some sense of safety though, with them around. None of us 'little people' would pick a fight with them and, as much as I hate to say it, those other ones, the Xitians I think, weren't going to go after a territory cold and wet like ours for a while, if ever.
I - The Beginnings of a Northmark
I was born into an unremarkable family of carpenters and servants in the northernmost reaches of the world. Our settlement, we called it Long Night, was a small gathering of wooden longhouses surrounding a large bonfire, kept from setting the forest alight by an artisan, stone gazebo. The heat from that fire was incredible, even managing to heat the north's frigid cold. Long Night was in the midst of a densely forested region we knew as Fjord; Cold, wet and often foggy or snowy. We were dug in to avoid the cold of the harsh north and built to last, warm-- enough, and somewhat comfy, even for us poorer people. The Lucins couldn't have their workers chilled to the bone every night, could they? More on them later.
We were on the very edges of that forest and stretching out before it further to the north was the Tundra. A white ocean of flat, snow covered waste with some mountains visible on the horizon. These mountains became something of an icon of our beliefs in that anyone who set out that way, never came back, likely frozen to death. We came to believe that it was the seat of gods and those very few worthy an audience would make it through. Such was the distance from any other settlement, that we had almost never heard from another group of people in ages. It suited us just fine.
As for myself and my family, my Father worked as a carpenter before retirement and Mother was a maid in the Lucin garrison we were 'honoured' with in later years. I also had a cousin, Tavish, who, apart from being my role-model, moved between settlements offering employ as a cartographer and hunter. Most of my early childhood is a bit hazy; Iâve not got the best of memories but there is a strong recollection of wood chippings, the smell of pine and enough to get by and not go to bed starving every night.
Growing up in that simple household, we had to make the best of what we had; the situation did not improve even during the massive influx of work after the conclusion of the Veld War. Around eight years, I took to working with Father, managing to handle simple tasks, like repairing and making simple tools and furniture because, I'm not afraid to say, I wasn't the brightest kid. I didn't learn much from Mother's line of work, only how to behave 'properly' and speak like I 'belonged in a civilised society'.
It was also around this time that the Thane of our town came to my family. I wasn't allowed to hear what was said, kept locked up in my space by the Thane's personal guard. After some time, for a child eager to hear news anyway, they told me. They had the honour of raising one of a new group Northmarkin. Me. Both a blessing and a bane on my existence. This meant that for the next dozen years, I would be taken from my home every day and taught how to hunt, survive, fight and represent my people. I was overjoyed; other northmarkin before me were truly magnificent figures. I remembered fondly the day Northmark Indrik slew a Tundra Wurm with a broken sword and a door as a shield.
But, as my cousin told me, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Early on, I was tattooed with the traditional colours of the Northmark and branded on the back of both hands with both the Northmark emblem and motto and 'Sulena's Sigil'. Until the next major event of my town's quiet and traditional history, I was force fed month after month of etiquette, morals, skill and steel. At the time, I thought through the pain and regular beatings and brandings for my mistakes and sins it would all be worth it. That one day I'd be like Indrik, slaying tundra wurms and making my people proud. I wasn't wrong, things did change, but not for the better. Definitely not for the better.
Without much of a proper, general education, (A small settlement in the back end of nowhere, there wasn't much reason beyond learning your family's trade) I was able to focus on more specific skills; Carpentry like Father and, with my cousin nearby for the next few years, archery and survival in the wilds of the world. Many was the day I would practice my archery with Tavish when not working or training to be a Northmark, apparently showing some talent with a bow, more so than in other fields. I'm not so sure, myself. I'm fairly certain many can use a bow as well as I can. Three hours a day of shooting a target is good to keep your head clear and eyes sharp.
This would continue until I was 12, when the town, its people and my destiny was turned upside down by tall, pale men with blue, glowing eyes and blades drawn.
II - Rediscovery and The Day the Lucins Came
During my twelfth year, our town of Long Night started to get visitors. After a while, the unnatural fog that separated us from the other territories lifted and the trackless woodland became far easier to get through. From all over the northern territories, even Dark Meadow Keep and Solace Valley, interested in cultural heritage, tradition and our history of valiant Northmarkin and their deeds and our survival for so bloody long. It was good to see that we were finally being taken back into the reaches of others, like family who had seen one another in ages. There were festivities, laughter, fun... and xenophobic murder.
News began to spread, by word of mouth, that war was raging in the south. To begin with, we were concerned that the Lucins would try and take us unawares, being a secluded area and in a climate they preferred it was only logical to think they would. It didn't seem realistic to think that another group would try it, being as far out as we were and we had a few strong neighbors. The only credible threat was the Lucins. As time went by, the tension slowly eased off and, in our infinite naivety, believed that war would not spread to our land. How wrong we were.
Indrik fell first. He came home to us, battered and bloodied, barely even lucid as he rode into the centre of Long Night limply on the back of his steed. He died before he even made it to the apothecary. At first, we pointed fingers wildly in our grief, accusing our neighbors and asking questions which, soon, pushed them away, fearing that we would declare war with those we once called brother and sister. Again, how wrong we were. We realized our mistake in the same week, when tall, pale men in armour of gleaming silver, blue and gold filigree came with weapons high.
Without warning, the platoon-or-so men-at-arms still defended us were caught in a simple noose and strangled. We offered no challenge to the Lucins' superior force and powers, especially not in the amplifying conditions of our climate. There were rumours that our defenders hit the lucins first, but no one could be sure. Or they were just too embarrassed to tell the rest of us that they set us up for some bad days.
So, with the skirmish over, townsfolk were rounded up and the surviving men-at-arms lined up. They, and a few defenseless people, old, young and weak were 'made an example of' and the thoroughfare through the centre of Long Night was coloured an interesting new colour called 'Hint of Northman-Blood'. As luck would have it, my family was mostly untouched by this sacking, but people I'd known all my life before weren't so lucky and they were never the same. Which, as you can imagine, is where my dislike of those... things comes from.
With that, our Thane was replaced with stricter laws imposed by our new leaders in the Lucins. They managed the settlement, oversaw our production for the coming years and, of course, garrisoned the settlement and claimed a hefty chunk of the surrounding territory. They let us have some of our lives in exchange for our labour.
Soon after, lumber mills and workshops sprung up all through the surrounding woods, laying claim to huge areas of woodland to fuel the demands of their effort to keep the peace among the Mesalian groups. I worked in one of those workshops myself, crafting tools or using what was made in the smiths into usable weapons. My family werenât the worst off, so we had something good going for us, I suppose.
Anyway, no, I wasn't keen on those glow-ey buggers, the Lucins. I've seen people worked to death in forges and treated to corporeal punishment disproportionate to their crime. And they thought it was good that I had blue eyes "Oh, maybe they'll like you a little more than the rest of us". Pah. Bloodthirsty maniacs with no respect for anyone but one of their own number. Not exactly the best managers either.
There was some sense of safety though, with them around. None of us 'little people' would pick a fight with them and, as much as I hate to say it, those other ones, the Xitians I think, weren't going to go after a territory cold and wet like ours for a while, if ever.