The Town of Linedia
Forever burns bright the fires and forever does the town ring with the sound of metal on metal and of metal on rock. Come ye, to where hearts burn with fires of the forge, and rocks tremble before fists of iron.
Geography
![[+]](/images/collapse_collapsed.png "[+]")
GeographyThe town of Linedia nestled in a naturally round valley, resembling a basin, that has hollowed itself into a tall mountain. The mountain, also called the Mount Krestone by the locals, is surrounded by a severely dense forest, called Fallion forest, that blocks the only way into the valley. This path, that isn't really a path, winds up through the forest and the mountain into a part of the valley that is less steep than the other raised edges of the valley, allowing entry into the town itself. The mountain is too steep and tall to be climbable and due to its height, the town itself is constantly covered in a dense fog, that spills into the forests making it quite impossible to navigate it in times when the density is at its peak. The scientists that have visited the town have theorized that the fog must be due to the shape of the valley, because the high walls of the valley block the rays of the sun from the reaching the town, the fog can't be dissipated properly. It rings true, but the truth remains to be seen.
The Tale of Beginnings
Come, gather round, gather round, you lot asked for a story, and so story it is you will get. Come on over, sit round the fire, no point in telling a story if there isn’t an audience to listen! Hi! None of that, I won’t have you pulling my beard, go sit down with the others. You laddies back there, hurry up and sit, don’t be shying about back there! And quiet down there, you Mittendri and the lassies, you may be the daughter of the chief but I won’t hold back from nipping your ear again, you mark my words. Now, are you all ready? Sitting tight? No gas leaking? Right-ho then, let me just get this smoke going nicely, and then we can begin.
The story I’m about to tell you lot is one that all Fogstonians know and love. No, Kinileth, it’s not Balrus and the three humpbacks, and no, it’s not the Tale of Four Paths and a Fiery Lady either, although we do love that story very much, so whoa down there Mitty; we all love the story of the chief. The story I’m about to tell you is a very old story, one that tells of honor, riches and friendship. I suppose all of you know the story of Chief Feindor Fire-Beard and the Garden of East-Moors? Well, this story comes after that, a year exactly as a matter of fact.
After having bested a god himself, Feindor couldn’t find any more worthy foes to strike down, and after four moons of searching and being denied by all those who feared his strength, Feindor grew ever so much more boastful. So much so that he stopped practicing, that’s right, lassies and laddies, you heard me right, and then Feindor took to drinking and all sorts of merrymaking, confident that he was the strongest man to ever walk the earth. He would host feasts after feasts, from one town to another, and it seemed that his riches would never dwindle and his wines never go sour, but alas! His vault emptied and his pens were lifeless as if a thousand cows and a thousand sheep had never roamed its vast fields. Now once Feindor had got the wind up that he could no longer get the finest spiced wine, you can very well imagine what it did to his shining plated pride! Oh ho ho! Yes, Feindor grew very mad but what could he do? He couldn’t very well blame the winesman could he now? At first the prideful chief refused to accept that he had run out of riches and believed that some bastard of a thief had stolen everything. He demanded that the people help him look for the thief that had stolen his fortune, but he couldn’t do that; he didn’t have any gold on him to hire the people, see.
Now good laddies and lassies, what would you lot have done in his tattered and old sorry shoes? Oh there’s something marvelous. You lot are right of course, you should try to get some work going, and that is what he did as well. Only that… he couldn’t get any! Wohohoah! Hush and simmer down you lot! That’s not the worst part yet. You see, when he tried to get some work and earn himself some more pretty gold back, he couldn’t! He tried some chopping works and he couldn’t lift them heavy logs, he went to hunt some game and he couldn’t catch a rabbit! He couldn’t even lift Firenia, his own sword if you can believe that. You see young ones, our dear Chief Feindor was all fats and greases and flaps; he could barely see his own feet! And all of this was cause of him wasting away his days in feasting and fun, and not practicing and keeping his tip top shape. Let that be a lesson for all of you lot. Do I see a nod? Two? Can I get a WHA-HO! Good chaps! Wipe that tear off Jen.
Now where was I? Oh that’s right, Feindor got all flabs and has no work. Now, even though Feindor had no gold and no work, he was still the ever prideful man he was, and denied that he had gotten flabby and weak. The lot of them is a bunch of snot-brains! He would say about anyone that denied him work, and continue to look for work until he came to the work of mining, and this, as fate would have it, is where he met Korinth Iron-Fist, that’s right, the man himself, hush, little Ironhearts.
If any of us of today’s proud Fogstone’s been there to see it, I bet you all my toenails that we would’ve found the scene a vastly stomach-grasping funny scene. There he was, Chief Feindor, barging, rolling more like, into the miner’s camp, when they were having their evening grub around their campfire and demanding for work, and there he was, good old Korinth, the head of the group, sitting there at the far end of the long circle, all grim faced like, and all the other miners just staring at our proud chief, stunned. Up till that point, the chief had been rejected the moment he asked for work, him being so head hardy and all, and since news of Feindor had reached the miners, the same thing was about to happen. Once they got out of their shock, the miners got up to kick him out of camp, but wouldn’t you know it, Korinth only got up and tossed a hammer towards Feindor, saying in his all serious tone, “You won’t fit into the mines, fix our tools.” And just like that, he retired to his tent. Ah! I see the Stonefires going excited, that’s right chaps, that’s where Feindor picked up the trade of smithing.
But as you can see as clearly as the third day glass, Korinth drove a hurtful dagger into Feindor’s pride, and it was more of that, rather than being actually given a job, that drove Feindor into working like he had never worked before. He was terrible with the hammer and the smithing business I tell you, more so because he never let the resident smith teach him proper, but his passion drove him past his talents and in a matter of few months, he was back into his healthy and proud shape, and chugging out some average quality stuff. They say that Korinth rejected every tool that Feindor forged, and that that made him grow even more passionate about the craft, but if you’re a Firestone, you say that the fire of the forges was ever so inside him from the beginning. So you have Feindor working around the moons, and Korinth burying himself in the deep gorges of the mines, don’t sound too much like they ever got friendly does it? You are right of course, as a matter of fact, Feindor was always trying to get under Korinth’s skin, to start a fight and teach him a lesson for looking down on him, but as you all know, Korinth was as cold as cooled steel, and never did react to Feindor’s taunts. Their friendship really starts one day, that one day when bandits attacked the town.
On that day, Feindor had had enough, after three years and a half of staying in the mines and toiling day by day, just to have his work ignored and his pride diminished by some chap that seemed to have a heart colder than anything that even the goddess Nipos could lash out. Why didn’t he challenge him into a duel you ask? Why because he knew himself that his work wasn’t fit for proper use deep down in the mines where even the strongest of picks are challenged; he just couldn’t bear to accept that fact. So he left, he was fed up with dealing with the miners and even the fire in his heart then was only but a smoldering pile of ashes to stop him from going. There was a lot of shouting, all from Feindor, that’s the last tool from me you’re turning down, he said, spat on the camp grounds and stormed out. But as it turned out, it may well have been a good thing that he did. You see, that very night bandits came and raided the town, which wasn’t successful really; they were chased out the moment they set foot into town, but as the bandits were running off, they ran into Feindor sleeping by the fields and tried to make off with his sword. Oh they chose the wrong whisker to pluck for sure. Feindor, in a frenzy, killed 10 of those bandits, who were armed mind you, using nothing but his bare hands. But in the end, sheer numbers overwhelmed him and the bandits tied him up tight, and dragged him along to sell him off as a slave.
Now back at the town, rumors spread that the arrogant bugger of Feindor had been taken off to be sold as a slave, and eventually, the rumors reached Korinth in the town mine, and you’ll never guess what Korinth did. He rounded up his men, the toughened bunch they are, and traveled three days and nights looking for the bandit camp, and when they found it, all the fiends in nether couldn’t have stopped them. The camp was completely ravaged and all bandits were killed, and captives were freed. Feindor was struck in his heart he was, when Korinth freed him from his stake, (for Feindor was tied to a stake away from all the others for being too violent) and said “You have work to do.” as calmly as asking what the dinner was, something strong struck through his pride, and there and then, he pledged loyalty to the man who he had insulted.
That was only the briefest scrap piece of the beginning of their friendship. During the years to follow, Feindor risked his hide plenty times to save Korinth, for he was a man who couldn’t keep debts down, and Korinth, so did he. They became the closest of friends, and their friendship was envied by all near and far. Every night after a day’s hard work, they and the whole crew of miners would sit by the fire and have some merrymaking, and they say that those times when Korinth was with Feindor, who, drunk beyond his senses, whaled away singing, were the only times anyone ever saw him laugh. Days and weeks turned to months, and the months turned to years, and their friendship lasted through their married days, each married to the most beautiful of women in those parts. By then Feindor had completely mastered the craft of smithing, and likewise Korinth was the best miner about, rumored by then to be able to mine ores using his bare fists, which is where his title Iron-Fist comes from. They grew to be very rich, so rich, in fact, that bandits and thieves often raided the town to the point that the people of the town asked that they please leave.
So they took all their belongings and their family and left looking for some new abode, and in the few weeks they traveled, they were attacked countless times. More bandits, and even some solders from other towns ambushed them in roads, forests, and anywhere they went. They were no match, of course, none of them made off with even a portion of their fortune, but they were simply too many for the two friends and their families to endure. They came through nights and days, and gave them no piece of rest, and so in the end, the two friends decided to take their families deep into the Fallion Forest, and up the Mount Krestone, which then had no name, and built up the town of Fogstone in the deep valleys that we all live in right now.
Was that the end of the adventures you ask? Ha! Not even close, with their family safe, the two went on more adventures than I can hope to tell you in my old age. They went to the furthest corners of the continents, and ventured to the deepest pits beneath the earth, some say they met the goddess Drymaterras herself, but at the end of all adventures, they were still loving fathers and good friends.
Oh! How did Feindor become the first chief of Fogstone you ask? A very good question, but that chaps, is a story for another time.
The story I’m about to tell you lot is one that all Fogstonians know and love. No, Kinileth, it’s not Balrus and the three humpbacks, and no, it’s not the Tale of Four Paths and a Fiery Lady either, although we do love that story very much, so whoa down there Mitty; we all love the story of the chief. The story I’m about to tell you is a very old story, one that tells of honor, riches and friendship. I suppose all of you know the story of Chief Feindor Fire-Beard and the Garden of East-Moors? Well, this story comes after that, a year exactly as a matter of fact.
After having bested a god himself, Feindor couldn’t find any more worthy foes to strike down, and after four moons of searching and being denied by all those who feared his strength, Feindor grew ever so much more boastful. So much so that he stopped practicing, that’s right, lassies and laddies, you heard me right, and then Feindor took to drinking and all sorts of merrymaking, confident that he was the strongest man to ever walk the earth. He would host feasts after feasts, from one town to another, and it seemed that his riches would never dwindle and his wines never go sour, but alas! His vault emptied and his pens were lifeless as if a thousand cows and a thousand sheep had never roamed its vast fields. Now once Feindor had got the wind up that he could no longer get the finest spiced wine, you can very well imagine what it did to his shining plated pride! Oh ho ho! Yes, Feindor grew very mad but what could he do? He couldn’t very well blame the winesman could he now? At first the prideful chief refused to accept that he had run out of riches and believed that some bastard of a thief had stolen everything. He demanded that the people help him look for the thief that had stolen his fortune, but he couldn’t do that; he didn’t have any gold on him to hire the people, see.
Now good laddies and lassies, what would you lot have done in his tattered and old sorry shoes? Oh there’s something marvelous. You lot are right of course, you should try to get some work going, and that is what he did as well. Only that… he couldn’t get any! Wohohoah! Hush and simmer down you lot! That’s not the worst part yet. You see, when he tried to get some work and earn himself some more pretty gold back, he couldn’t! He tried some chopping works and he couldn’t lift them heavy logs, he went to hunt some game and he couldn’t catch a rabbit! He couldn’t even lift Firenia, his own sword if you can believe that. You see young ones, our dear Chief Feindor was all fats and greases and flaps; he could barely see his own feet! And all of this was cause of him wasting away his days in feasting and fun, and not practicing and keeping his tip top shape. Let that be a lesson for all of you lot. Do I see a nod? Two? Can I get a WHA-HO! Good chaps! Wipe that tear off Jen.
Now where was I? Oh that’s right, Feindor got all flabs and has no work. Now, even though Feindor had no gold and no work, he was still the ever prideful man he was, and denied that he had gotten flabby and weak. The lot of them is a bunch of snot-brains! He would say about anyone that denied him work, and continue to look for work until he came to the work of mining, and this, as fate would have it, is where he met Korinth Iron-Fist, that’s right, the man himself, hush, little Ironhearts.
If any of us of today’s proud Fogstone’s been there to see it, I bet you all my toenails that we would’ve found the scene a vastly stomach-grasping funny scene. There he was, Chief Feindor, barging, rolling more like, into the miner’s camp, when they were having their evening grub around their campfire and demanding for work, and there he was, good old Korinth, the head of the group, sitting there at the far end of the long circle, all grim faced like, and all the other miners just staring at our proud chief, stunned. Up till that point, the chief had been rejected the moment he asked for work, him being so head hardy and all, and since news of Feindor had reached the miners, the same thing was about to happen. Once they got out of their shock, the miners got up to kick him out of camp, but wouldn’t you know it, Korinth only got up and tossed a hammer towards Feindor, saying in his all serious tone, “You won’t fit into the mines, fix our tools.” And just like that, he retired to his tent. Ah! I see the Stonefires going excited, that’s right chaps, that’s where Feindor picked up the trade of smithing.
But as you can see as clearly as the third day glass, Korinth drove a hurtful dagger into Feindor’s pride, and it was more of that, rather than being actually given a job, that drove Feindor into working like he had never worked before. He was terrible with the hammer and the smithing business I tell you, more so because he never let the resident smith teach him proper, but his passion drove him past his talents and in a matter of few months, he was back into his healthy and proud shape, and chugging out some average quality stuff. They say that Korinth rejected every tool that Feindor forged, and that that made him grow even more passionate about the craft, but if you’re a Firestone, you say that the fire of the forges was ever so inside him from the beginning. So you have Feindor working around the moons, and Korinth burying himself in the deep gorges of the mines, don’t sound too much like they ever got friendly does it? You are right of course, as a matter of fact, Feindor was always trying to get under Korinth’s skin, to start a fight and teach him a lesson for looking down on him, but as you all know, Korinth was as cold as cooled steel, and never did react to Feindor’s taunts. Their friendship really starts one day, that one day when bandits attacked the town.
On that day, Feindor had had enough, after three years and a half of staying in the mines and toiling day by day, just to have his work ignored and his pride diminished by some chap that seemed to have a heart colder than anything that even the goddess Nipos could lash out. Why didn’t he challenge him into a duel you ask? Why because he knew himself that his work wasn’t fit for proper use deep down in the mines where even the strongest of picks are challenged; he just couldn’t bear to accept that fact. So he left, he was fed up with dealing with the miners and even the fire in his heart then was only but a smoldering pile of ashes to stop him from going. There was a lot of shouting, all from Feindor, that’s the last tool from me you’re turning down, he said, spat on the camp grounds and stormed out. But as it turned out, it may well have been a good thing that he did. You see, that very night bandits came and raided the town, which wasn’t successful really; they were chased out the moment they set foot into town, but as the bandits were running off, they ran into Feindor sleeping by the fields and tried to make off with his sword. Oh they chose the wrong whisker to pluck for sure. Feindor, in a frenzy, killed 10 of those bandits, who were armed mind you, using nothing but his bare hands. But in the end, sheer numbers overwhelmed him and the bandits tied him up tight, and dragged him along to sell him off as a slave.
Now back at the town, rumors spread that the arrogant bugger of Feindor had been taken off to be sold as a slave, and eventually, the rumors reached Korinth in the town mine, and you’ll never guess what Korinth did. He rounded up his men, the toughened bunch they are, and traveled three days and nights looking for the bandit camp, and when they found it, all the fiends in nether couldn’t have stopped them. The camp was completely ravaged and all bandits were killed, and captives were freed. Feindor was struck in his heart he was, when Korinth freed him from his stake, (for Feindor was tied to a stake away from all the others for being too violent) and said “You have work to do.” as calmly as asking what the dinner was, something strong struck through his pride, and there and then, he pledged loyalty to the man who he had insulted.
That was only the briefest scrap piece of the beginning of their friendship. During the years to follow, Feindor risked his hide plenty times to save Korinth, for he was a man who couldn’t keep debts down, and Korinth, so did he. They became the closest of friends, and their friendship was envied by all near and far. Every night after a day’s hard work, they and the whole crew of miners would sit by the fire and have some merrymaking, and they say that those times when Korinth was with Feindor, who, drunk beyond his senses, whaled away singing, were the only times anyone ever saw him laugh. Days and weeks turned to months, and the months turned to years, and their friendship lasted through their married days, each married to the most beautiful of women in those parts. By then Feindor had completely mastered the craft of smithing, and likewise Korinth was the best miner about, rumored by then to be able to mine ores using his bare fists, which is where his title Iron-Fist comes from. They grew to be very rich, so rich, in fact, that bandits and thieves often raided the town to the point that the people of the town asked that they please leave.
So they took all their belongings and their family and left looking for some new abode, and in the few weeks they traveled, they were attacked countless times. More bandits, and even some solders from other towns ambushed them in roads, forests, and anywhere they went. They were no match, of course, none of them made off with even a portion of their fortune, but they were simply too many for the two friends and their families to endure. They came through nights and days, and gave them no piece of rest, and so in the end, the two friends decided to take their families deep into the Fallion Forest, and up the Mount Krestone, which then had no name, and built up the town of Fogstone in the deep valleys that we all live in right now.
Was that the end of the adventures you ask? Ha! Not even close, with their family safe, the two went on more adventures than I can hope to tell you in my old age. They went to the furthest corners of the continents, and ventured to the deepest pits beneath the earth, some say they met the goddess Drymaterras herself, but at the end of all adventures, they were still loving fathers and good friends.
Oh! How did Feindor become the first chief of Fogstone you ask? A very good question, but that chaps, is a story for another time.
General History
It is difficult to tell whether men such as Chief Feindor and Korinth truly existed, but history has it that in a year far before the wars, a band of vagrants had taken up residence in the valley above the mountain, and although it is also unknown whether they were a clan of smiths and miners, historians theorize that the group of people that took residence in the valley were very prosperous. But despite its prosperity, there are no records that state interactions of this group of people with any other town until just a few decades before the Xitian invasion. By then, the town had become what it is now, a town divided into two clans, one of smiths, and another of miners. Records that have been saved from a diary of a band of vagrants that had traded with Linedia show that the men and women that came to trade were huge and noisy, and had intimidated the whole group with their booming voices.
"....They were men of great size, larger than any man we have seen in our long travels. They easily towered over us, and when time came to high noon, they would block out the sun from our eyes as we conversed. Men of height they were, but they were also men of width as well; one in particular, who had a belly protruding so far that we would have thought him pregnant, if not for his magnificent beard, was as wide as three of us combined. But if their size wasn't something to remember them by, their voices definitely left a mark in our memories. They spoke loudly as a man would shout to another an arrow shot away, except that they did so in front of who they were speaking to, and their booming laughs deafened our ears and seemed to shake the earth. The horses got jittery..."
- Excerpt from a diary, page 56 of the book -
It is probable that the vagrants were an excessively small group of people, for decades later, when the Xitians invaded our Realm, they happened to hear news of the town that was on top of the mountain, and in their greed to take over and loot yet another town, a squad was sent up the mountain. However, with the fog being so dense, and the Xitians being unfamiliar with the terrain, the squad soon got lost and were stranded. An excerpt from the journal of a Xitian soldier describes their situation at the time during which they met and were rescued by a team of hunters from the town Linedia.
"....We were up for lost, or so we believed. After what it seemed hours and hours of roaming in the accursed forests of this lands forsaken by all known divinity, we were completely lost in the dense forests that even forbid us the rays of the sun. The squad leader was about to give orders to burn the entire forest down, when the fog began to cover our surroundings, and it wasn't like any fog we had ever seen in our lives. It was only a matter of minutes, before we couldn't even see past 10 feet much less find a way out, and with the dense concentration of water in the air, our soldiers were soon dropping, their stamina sapped. We thought that was the end of us, but then we heard loud booming laughters close by, and some barbarians of this Realm came into view. They were tall men, the tallest being more than an arm's length taller than I, and some were as wide as they were tall, but we were certain that even the fattest of them could take down one or two of us if he tried. They were wielding torches, and behind their backs, ridiculously huge hammers and pickaxes, one of them was carrying a huge sack full of squirming things, and another was carrying on his back, a warthog that seemed to have been punched to death, luck of the hunt probably. These vermin probably took advantage of an old and dying pig; barbarians, the lot of them...."
- Excerpt from a journal entry of a Xitian soldier, translated by the renowned historian Helios
The exact incidents are quite hazy, records from the Xitian side has it that they continued their assault and successfully defeated the Linedians and put them into work to making weapons for them, but every other source asserts that the hunting party helped the squad return to the regiment, and overwhelming the officers of the army with their belligerent cheer, struck or rather, forced a deal with them, leaving them in the dust before they could properly react. How the Linedians made the Xitians keep their end of the deal is still a wonder to many, but it is a well known fact that the Xitians never made another attempt to conquer the town.
"...This feat, is truly a wonder that have embezzled many historians, for towns of our Realm that weren't ravaged by the wrath of the Xitians were precious few, precious few indeed. From the evidence I have gathered over the years, I have constructed a theory; it makes no sense to the logical mind that the Xitians would have left Linedia alone for all the embarrassment it caused them, and so it is only logical for them to have attempted to conquer Linedia. However, the geographical location of the town makes it a natural fortress, one that is almost impenetrable save from it's entrance. If the armies were to march on to the town using any path but the one through the very forest they were lost in, they would find themselves struggling with cliffs with sheer drops that even a mountain goat would hesitate to traverse. On the other hand, if they marched through the forest, then they would either get lost again, or be met with strong defenses in a bottleneck that is the entrance to the town, which would render numbers useless. Of course, this is without putting into account the fact that they would not be able to fight in a dense fog that would inevitably sap them of their strength. I have yet to find out why the Xitians have not tried burning the forest down in order to advance, but perhaps the density of vapor in the air stopped them from utilizing their abilities, and they were too proud to use mundane tools in order to begin a fire, or perhaps they did burn the forest down, only to find the fog still in place and able men at guard..."
- From History, A Town of Fire and Metal, by the renowned historian Helios
Everything stayed the same for Linedia when the Xitians were driven away, years and years later, the Lucins traced the weaponry and armors of the Xitians back to the town of Linedia where they struck a deal to provide weapons for the Lucins instead until the Xitians were all driven out of the Realm. Both sides kept their end of the bargain and until today, beginning right after the Purge, Linedia was free to provide smithing and mining services to all that asked of it.
"....They were men of great size, larger than any man we have seen in our long travels. They easily towered over us, and when time came to high noon, they would block out the sun from our eyes as we conversed. Men of height they were, but they were also men of width as well; one in particular, who had a belly protruding so far that we would have thought him pregnant, if not for his magnificent beard, was as wide as three of us combined. But if their size wasn't something to remember them by, their voices definitely left a mark in our memories. They spoke loudly as a man would shout to another an arrow shot away, except that they did so in front of who they were speaking to, and their booming laughs deafened our ears and seemed to shake the earth. The horses got jittery..."
- Excerpt from a diary, page 56 of the book -
It is probable that the vagrants were an excessively small group of people, for decades later, when the Xitians invaded our Realm, they happened to hear news of the town that was on top of the mountain, and in their greed to take over and loot yet another town, a squad was sent up the mountain. However, with the fog being so dense, and the Xitians being unfamiliar with the terrain, the squad soon got lost and were stranded. An excerpt from the journal of a Xitian soldier describes their situation at the time during which they met and were rescued by a team of hunters from the town Linedia.
"....We were up for lost, or so we believed. After what it seemed hours and hours of roaming in the accursed forests of this lands forsaken by all known divinity, we were completely lost in the dense forests that even forbid us the rays of the sun. The squad leader was about to give orders to burn the entire forest down, when the fog began to cover our surroundings, and it wasn't like any fog we had ever seen in our lives. It was only a matter of minutes, before we couldn't even see past 10 feet much less find a way out, and with the dense concentration of water in the air, our soldiers were soon dropping, their stamina sapped. We thought that was the end of us, but then we heard loud booming laughters close by, and some barbarians of this Realm came into view. They were tall men, the tallest being more than an arm's length taller than I, and some were as wide as they were tall, but we were certain that even the fattest of them could take down one or two of us if he tried. They were wielding torches, and behind their backs, ridiculously huge hammers and pickaxes, one of them was carrying a huge sack full of squirming things, and another was carrying on his back, a warthog that seemed to have been punched to death, luck of the hunt probably. These vermin probably took advantage of an old and dying pig; barbarians, the lot of them...."
- Excerpt from a journal entry of a Xitian soldier, translated by the renowned historian Helios
The exact incidents are quite hazy, records from the Xitian side has it that they continued their assault and successfully defeated the Linedians and put them into work to making weapons for them, but every other source asserts that the hunting party helped the squad return to the regiment, and overwhelming the officers of the army with their belligerent cheer, struck or rather, forced a deal with them, leaving them in the dust before they could properly react. How the Linedians made the Xitians keep their end of the deal is still a wonder to many, but it is a well known fact that the Xitians never made another attempt to conquer the town.
"...This feat, is truly a wonder that have embezzled many historians, for towns of our Realm that weren't ravaged by the wrath of the Xitians were precious few, precious few indeed. From the evidence I have gathered over the years, I have constructed a theory; it makes no sense to the logical mind that the Xitians would have left Linedia alone for all the embarrassment it caused them, and so it is only logical for them to have attempted to conquer Linedia. However, the geographical location of the town makes it a natural fortress, one that is almost impenetrable save from it's entrance. If the armies were to march on to the town using any path but the one through the very forest they were lost in, they would find themselves struggling with cliffs with sheer drops that even a mountain goat would hesitate to traverse. On the other hand, if they marched through the forest, then they would either get lost again, or be met with strong defenses in a bottleneck that is the entrance to the town, which would render numbers useless. Of course, this is without putting into account the fact that they would not be able to fight in a dense fog that would inevitably sap them of their strength. I have yet to find out why the Xitians have not tried burning the forest down in order to advance, but perhaps the density of vapor in the air stopped them from utilizing their abilities, and they were too proud to use mundane tools in order to begin a fire, or perhaps they did burn the forest down, only to find the fog still in place and able men at guard..."
- From History, A Town of Fire and Metal, by the renowned historian Helios
Everything stayed the same for Linedia when the Xitians were driven away, years and years later, the Lucins traced the weaponry and armors of the Xitians back to the town of Linedia where they struck a deal to provide weapons for the Lucins instead until the Xitians were all driven out of the Realm. Both sides kept their end of the bargain and until today, beginning right after the Purge, Linedia was free to provide smithing and mining services to all that asked of it.
Traditions & Culture
The great thing about traditions of Fogstone is that most of them are true to the description of the word. Certain traditions have never changed since the founding of the town itself, and have only been dressed anew according to the fashion of the times. But make no mistake, Fogstone is least like those conservative towns out in the world; all the traditions are meant to improve the traditions themselves, or for the merryment of its people, as they should be.
General Tradition/Culture
Work
You can't eat gold. However good the smiths and the miners are at what they do, they can't survive without having some good rum and steak now and again. But then again, they can't set aside a number of people specifically to do the other tasks, because it would be too cruel to have that group of people away doing what they love the most, for as long as a month at that. So it was decided that a clan would take responsibility to ensure the entire town's survival once every month, and even children pitched in to help do such work. Usually, the younger and lively ones, from ages 8 to 20, got the hunting and foraging duty, and the more difficult and backbreaking jobs were for the older folks. The building of houses and crafting of clothing were done by the folks past forty, and lumbering and farming duty was entrusted to those in between them.
Now the question is, what of their own professions? The Stonefires were smiths and the Ironhearts were miners, and they were best at what they do, but what made them stand out from others that practiced the same craft was the unique traditions and work ethics that each clan developed.
Cuisine
Over the long years that the Fogstonians stayed where they are, the first thing that they learnt to deal with was the fact that they couldn't afford to be picky about what they could eat. When they first settled in the valley, they couldn't find sources of food as easily as they would in the typical wilderness, and due to the dense fog, they couldn't rely on their hunters to be able to track down wild game properly. Stories have it that Feindor, to the shock and horror of the rest of the people, was the first to resort to eating the only foodstuff that was abundantly accessible to them, bugs. Whether it was due to their chief starting it, or due to some other reason unknown to history, bugs were the staple food for the people until they eventually got used to the region and were able to get other kinds of food. By then, bugs had already become a delicacy of sorts, and were indispensable from their culture.
But make no mistake, insects weren't the only kind of food these folks took to. After some years of adjusting in their new environment, these crafty people soon figured out other means of acquiring food: one, was hunting, and the other, was farming. Since they could not hope to chase wild animals, they decided not to, and instead began laying out traps all over the forest. The traps varied, as every smith chipped in their own traps in, and the traps varied from simple bear traps, to elaborate spike launchers that could kill a boar in an instant, and soon, they had a steady supply of meat. As for farming, there was less they could do; typical crops died too easily from over hydration, and the mountains proved a challenge for tilling. In the end, they resorted to crops that required a lot of water to grow, namely rice, and other variants, but even then farming never became the largest source of their food. Their source of vitamins and fibre came from various herbs and roots that were in bounty in the mountain, and when trade routes were established with other towns, from the fruits and vegetables from there.
Booze and Spirits
Where would be a good laborer without his alcohol? Over in Fogstone, booze is one thing that they give as much value as their fine ores, and is another that the town spends most of its massive earnings on. Toughened and made very resistant to the ill effects of alcohol as early as the age of 8, most of the population boast of their prowess in holding their alcohol. The common belief in Fogstone is that if the grown-ups can enjoy it, so should the children, so the people started feeding their children their liquor early, and the results were not without disastrous ends. Eventually, they decided that getting children drunk too early an age can be detrimental to their growth, and so picked an age that they decided wouldn't be as negatively effective. This in turn, gave them yet another reason to feast, celebrating the day when a child comes of age, and is given his first pint of beer. The event, which is also known as Pint of Eight, happens on the eighth day of the eighth moon after the thaw, all the children that become eight in that year gather to have their ceremonial beer, and the whole town throws a huge feast in honor of them.
Hospitality
It isn't hard becoming a friend to a Fogstonian, as there aren't many that can put them off. It isn't difficult entering the town in the first place either, albeit all the defenses set up round the entrance of the town; the walls are made to keep out wild animals and the like, not to keep people out. It also helps that the town is in a natural fortress as well, as no one in their right minds could dare to climb the steep cliffs only to meet a sheer drop into the town, or to venture into the dark fog infested woods and risk thousands of traps leading up to the town.
The Send Off
One tradition that have never changed since the times of Feindor and Korinth is the Send Off. As they had done in their times, adventuring and bringing back home treasures and tales of the world, all the Fogstonians are given the opportunity to leave the town and see the world and have their share of adventuring to the fullest. Not all of them who leave return, as they may decide to settle elsewhere or meet a more tragic end, but once they return, they are met with tremendous welcome and are pestered to no end for their stories.
- Involves all work necessary for survival, such as building, farming, hunting, and so on.
- Clans take turn every month to take charge of such needs.
- Every Fogstonian is a workaholic.
You can't eat gold. However good the smiths and the miners are at what they do, they can't survive without having some good rum and steak now and again. But then again, they can't set aside a number of people specifically to do the other tasks, because it would be too cruel to have that group of people away doing what they love the most, for as long as a month at that. So it was decided that a clan would take responsibility to ensure the entire town's survival once every month, and even children pitched in to help do such work. Usually, the younger and lively ones, from ages 8 to 20, got the hunting and foraging duty, and the more difficult and backbreaking jobs were for the older folks. The building of houses and crafting of clothing were done by the folks past forty, and lumbering and farming duty was entrusted to those in between them.
Now the question is, what of their own professions? The Stonefires were smiths and the Ironhearts were miners, and they were best at what they do, but what made them stand out from others that practiced the same craft was the unique traditions and work ethics that each clan developed.
Stonefire
Hammers
Many techniques and work ethics were passed down for generations in the Stonefire clan, and the most notable would be without doubt the forging of the 'special' hammer that were forged specifically for each individual that were deemed worthy. These hammers would be crafted with the utmost care by the parents of the individual, or in the case the parents were diseased, by the next closest kin. These hammers were deemed to be in an entirely different realm from the regular hammers they used, and were only used when the need was dire, or to forge something as equally as special as the hammer itself.
Work Ethics
The forge of the Stonefire clan is as liberal as can be. The main forge, which comprises of a large fire pit, covered with a thick plate of metal, which acts as a giant anvil, a smelter, that is carved into the mountain, and a general area littered with various other menial tools and worktables for forging, is the main area where forging is done on most days, a magnificent sight when the forge is in full use, but it isn't the only place where the work is done. Branching off from the main forge, there are several other smaller ones that are specially fitted for the owner's convenience. Every smith is allowed to come and go as they please whichever forge they wish to poke their heads in; for there is only one rule that every smith is expected to follow: respect your fire.
- Each member had a hammer to their name, one that they would fondly call their 'forgemate'.
- Each hammer would be named, one that was similar to its wielder's own name.
Many techniques and work ethics were passed down for generations in the Stonefire clan, and the most notable would be without doubt the forging of the 'special' hammer that were forged specifically for each individual that were deemed worthy. These hammers would be crafted with the utmost care by the parents of the individual, or in the case the parents were diseased, by the next closest kin. These hammers were deemed to be in an entirely different realm from the regular hammers they used, and were only used when the need was dire, or to forge something as equally as special as the hammer itself.
Work Ethics
- The fire is the most important element, and is the first thing a Stonefire learns about.
- The smithing philosophy of Stonefires are made up of three words: Fire, Hammer, Metal.
- Everyone is free to forge whatever they want, whenever they want, wherever they want, however they want, if they wish to.
The forge of the Stonefire clan is as liberal as can be. The main forge, which comprises of a large fire pit, covered with a thick plate of metal, which acts as a giant anvil, a smelter, that is carved into the mountain, and a general area littered with various other menial tools and worktables for forging, is the main area where forging is done on most days, a magnificent sight when the forge is in full use, but it isn't the only place where the work is done. Branching off from the main forge, there are several other smaller ones that are specially fitted for the owner's convenience. Every smith is allowed to come and go as they please whichever forge they wish to poke their heads in; for there is only one rule that every smith is expected to follow: respect your fire.
Ironheart
Lantern
In treacherous grounds such as the mines of Fogstone, light is a valuable asset to have deep in the mines. In a mine where torches are useless and no natural light can penetrate, the steel lanternss that every Ironheart carry around on the belt is an essential part of the clan's tradition. The lose of that light could mean life or death to the miners, as skilled as they are, and so it only became inevitable that the lanterns became as special as the Stonefire forgemates. These lanterns are forged by the Stonefire clan, but with the design preferred by the Ironheart receiving it.
Work Ethics
Between the two clans, its obvious that its the Ironhearts that take the brunt of the life-risking factors in their co-existence, but as it were, these folks were only too happy to dig to care. The Ironhearts take pride and joy in digging up precious ores and minerals from the earth, but since the risks always stalk them underground, they have grown to be less carefree in their work as the Stonefires. They are careful to explore the unexplored, and do not take unnecessary risks if possible. One interesting thing about the mines of the Ironhearts is the returning tradition. Mines do not last forever, and although Fogstone happens to sit on rich veins of various ore, no amount of ores can last years and years of digging. So, when one mine is depleted, for Ironhearts mine straight down with minimal branches, it is celebrated by filling it in with earth from that very mine, along with every piece of junk/garbage/trash of the town, melted down, and poured at the same time with the earth. This of course, happens very rarely, and after all the time Fogstone has existed, they have only done this twice.
- As special as the Stonefires' hammers are, so are the lanterns of Ironhearts.
- The lanterns are steel make, with reinforcements on the glass bits.
In treacherous grounds such as the mines of Fogstone, light is a valuable asset to have deep in the mines. In a mine where torches are useless and no natural light can penetrate, the steel lanternss that every Ironheart carry around on the belt is an essential part of the clan's tradition. The lose of that light could mean life or death to the miners, as skilled as they are, and so it only became inevitable that the lanterns became as special as the Stonefire forgemates. These lanterns are forged by the Stonefire clan, but with the design preferred by the Ironheart receiving it.
Work Ethics
- The earth is the most important element, and is the first thing an Ironheart learns.
- The Ironheart mining philosophy is as simple as its counterpart: Safety first.
Between the two clans, its obvious that its the Ironhearts that take the brunt of the life-risking factors in their co-existence, but as it were, these folks were only too happy to dig to care. The Ironhearts take pride and joy in digging up precious ores and minerals from the earth, but since the risks always stalk them underground, they have grown to be less carefree in their work as the Stonefires. They are careful to explore the unexplored, and do not take unnecessary risks if possible. One interesting thing about the mines of the Ironhearts is the returning tradition. Mines do not last forever, and although Fogstone happens to sit on rich veins of various ore, no amount of ores can last years and years of digging. So, when one mine is depleted, for Ironhearts mine straight down with minimal branches, it is celebrated by filling it in with earth from that very mine, along with every piece of junk/garbage/trash of the town, melted down, and poured at the same time with the earth. This of course, happens very rarely, and after all the time Fogstone has existed, they have only done this twice.
- Anything edible goes.
- Particular cuisine includes insects and roots.
Over the long years that the Fogstonians stayed where they are, the first thing that they learnt to deal with was the fact that they couldn't afford to be picky about what they could eat. When they first settled in the valley, they couldn't find sources of food as easily as they would in the typical wilderness, and due to the dense fog, they couldn't rely on their hunters to be able to track down wild game properly. Stories have it that Feindor, to the shock and horror of the rest of the people, was the first to resort to eating the only foodstuff that was abundantly accessible to them, bugs. Whether it was due to their chief starting it, or due to some other reason unknown to history, bugs were the staple food for the people until they eventually got used to the region and were able to get other kinds of food. By then, bugs had already become a delicacy of sorts, and were indispensable from their culture.
But make no mistake, insects weren't the only kind of food these folks took to. After some years of adjusting in their new environment, these crafty people soon figured out other means of acquiring food: one, was hunting, and the other, was farming. Since they could not hope to chase wild animals, they decided not to, and instead began laying out traps all over the forest. The traps varied, as every smith chipped in their own traps in, and the traps varied from simple bear traps, to elaborate spike launchers that could kill a boar in an instant, and soon, they had a steady supply of meat. As for farming, there was less they could do; typical crops died too easily from over hydration, and the mountains proved a challenge for tilling. In the end, they resorted to crops that required a lot of water to grow, namely rice, and other variants, but even then farming never became the largest source of their food. Their source of vitamins and fibre came from various herbs and roots that were in bounty in the mountain, and when trade routes were established with other towns, from the fruits and vegetables from there.
Booze and Spirits
- No liquor is strong enough.
- Only rum is actually distilled in town.
- Drinking begins at the age of 8 (Year of Eight).
Where would be a good laborer without his alcohol? Over in Fogstone, booze is one thing that they give as much value as their fine ores, and is another that the town spends most of its massive earnings on. Toughened and made very resistant to the ill effects of alcohol as early as the age of 8, most of the population boast of their prowess in holding their alcohol. The common belief in Fogstone is that if the grown-ups can enjoy it, so should the children, so the people started feeding their children their liquor early, and the results were not without disastrous ends. Eventually, they decided that getting children drunk too early an age can be detrimental to their growth, and so picked an age that they decided wouldn't be as negatively effective. This in turn, gave them yet another reason to feast, celebrating the day when a child comes of age, and is given his first pint of beer. The event, which is also known as Pint of Eight, happens on the eighth day of the eighth moon after the thaw, all the children that become eight in that year gather to have their ceremonial beer, and the whole town throws a huge feast in honor of them.
Hospitality
- Idea is that anyone can be a friend.
- Not many can be a true threat to the town.
It isn't hard becoming a friend to a Fogstonian, as there aren't many that can put them off. It isn't difficult entering the town in the first place either, albeit all the defenses set up round the entrance of the town; the walls are made to keep out wild animals and the like, not to keep people out. It also helps that the town is in a natural fortress as well, as no one in their right minds could dare to climb the steep cliffs only to meet a sheer drop into the town, or to venture into the dark fog infested woods and risk thousands of traps leading up to the town.
The Send Off
- Anyone qualifies as long as he or she wishes so.
- Not all return.
One tradition that have never changed since the times of Feindor and Korinth is the Send Off. As they had done in their times, adventuring and bringing back home treasures and tales of the world, all the Fogstonians are given the opportunity to leave the town and see the world and have their share of adventuring to the fullest. Not all of them who leave return, as they may decide to settle elsewhere or meet a more tragic end, but once they return, they are met with tremendous welcome and are pestered to no end for their stories.