The North

When the eighth cleric speaks the eighth telling,
and on the eighth month thereafter,
Will the North be delivered from the cruel Black Ones.

By the will of Vesta, and the power of Mara,
By the might of the river, and the cries of Niltandia,
By the dead fires of oppression, and the black pass opened,
Will the North be delivered from the cruel Black Ones.

For as the world is made open the poor will rejoice,
The nobles made righteous, and to tradesmen a voice,

The Black ones in silence, the Northerners call,
To the world, ‘In the North are free men, and mighty, we all.’

Then, will the North be delivered from the cruel Black Ones.

Some time before Niltandia relinquished it's control of the Black Pass and the lands to it's south The Old Empire of the North fell, leaving behind a gaggle of nations with no clear borders, questionable rulers, and a general lack of order. The chaos of this time lead to many political oddities for the noble folk, and for the common folk it made for great danger and even greater poverty. Indeed, it is said Northern Men and Elves of the era must have been the hardiest generation of their respective races in order to survive the oppression and difficulty they endured.

This endurance stayed with the people of the North for at least one hundred years, for that is how long it took for them to free themselves of the shackles imposed by the Black Ones of Niltandia. It had already been a century since Black Ones conquered the city of Portage, the only accessible port in the whole Northern Continent, and seized the Black Pass, the only traversable road leading to Portage. Niltandia used their might to keep the natives North of the pass and control trade between the Northerners and foreigners.

The North was unsuitable to agriculture except for a few somewhat temperate locations, and they were already behind in developing the technology efficiently acquire natural resources. Whenever food or tools were needed the Northerners had no one to turn to but the Niltandians, who allowed traders to supply only certain, pre-approved wares to the natives. These wares were also taxed heavily and subject to regulated pricing which was designed to keep the locals poor.

And so the peasants toiled and starved. Of course, the nobles could not help themselves but to war with each other, even as the Black Ones kept them isolated from the outside world in every way imaginable.

The Old Empire truly only lived on in the Kingdom of Atli'er, which rested in the dead center of the continent and stretched from the western shore to the eastern one. At the time of these events her king was Turell de La'Vallet, a direct descendant of Tulbar La'Vallet. As far as the nobles could figure he was the most legitimate heir to The Old Empire, and so those who were so inclined look to him some sort of leader, even he was not their monarch. He was as good as a King could be, which is to say that he only behaved oppressively or cruelly when the situation necessitated, and that he treated nobles with dignity. Atli'er was divided into five lands, each of which were Turell's domain, but were ruled as fiefs of Lords which Turell appointed.

The only nation that came close to challenging Atli'er's military might was Heneselt. Heneselt was ruled by King Turisas. Turisas had no right to rule any part of the Old Empire, and yet his kingdom controlled the city of Henstadt and several villages which could certainly be called imperial. He maintained his dominance by flexing his country's muscles whenver possible, and frequently conquered and relinquished Atli'er's lands.

To the north-east of Atli'er was Falkuria, a city state built among the ruins of the Decid Wood. Through cunning and violence Turell's cousin, Stendor, had managed to turn the savage forest and city ruins into an almost respectable city-state. Stendor controlled a considerable portion of illicit trade in the North, and used his ill gotten gains to amass a mercenary army which was large enough to dissuade invasion.

West of there, but east of Heneselt, was another city-state, the mighty Republic of Arcanus. The beginning of the Old Empire's trouble was when this giant of a city rebelled and installed their Circle of Mages as leaders. The city endured, but the Magocracy did not, and the people built the North's first Republic, which lasts to this day.

Finally, to the north of all of this, was the frozen wasteland called Uthangaard. The name described geography more than a proper kingdom, as the political power in Uthangaard was divided among several tribes. These tribes adhered to their unique religion, Fornfamnand, and mostly kept their religious killing to themselves.

All of these factors would be enough to make like difficult in the North, but there was one more key ingredient in this stew of misery.

Every eight years, over the span of 64 years, a prophecy was delivered to the Vestal Clerics promising an end to the oppression and poverty caused by the Black Ones of Niltandia. It was said that on the day of the eighth telling of this prophecy Saint Mara herself would cause the Pontar River to swell and overflow, sweeping the Black Ones into the ocean and freeing the north.

This day came and went, but the Pontar never stirred past it's normal tide.

And so it was that the hope of the Northern people was crushed, and it seemed that their struggle would never end.