Beyond the “civilised” nations of the Dawn, or the somewhat stable nations of the Noon, far away, far out of the reach of the corrupt leaders, abusing their people for profit lay the opposite. A land of peoples united under nothing but their will to survive in the harsh reality that was uncivilised life. Tribes of starving people never truly had a chance to settle down and start a town, the deer wouldn’t have laid down on the plate for them, no, in the brutal world that they held so tightly they knew nothing but that tomorrow was not a guarantee without strength of the hunters of today.

In this desolate land filled with nothing but a broken people needing warmth and a place to call home, there stood the closest thing to civilisation. A strong tribe, headed by the strong founder, Toran Wulfsbaen. Toran had the voice that of beyond man (it is said), and he used it to it’s greatest ability, uniting the broken tribes. In no less than four years Clan Wulfsbaen had developed enough to remain in the same place no matter the season. The conditions were grim, poorly fitted deer hide tents and iconic wolf pelt attire for hunters. To any man from the south, the site may have been deemed worth little more than that of a bog, however, to the struggling huntsmen of the unknown world, it was a paradise, a tale so sweet dozens of tribes braved the dark forests come rain, come snow, just for the distant chance of a better world, a better world provided only by Toran Wulfsbaen. Well, that was true yesterday at least.

Following yet another successful deer hunt in the newly named “Wulfs Wood” Toran headed back to his settlement. 50 deer, that should see us through the day, if the others did well. Upon arrival with his fellow hunters they were cheered and embraced by their weaker brothers and sisters of the tribe, glad to see paradise was truly what it was taled to be. During this time of reunion and celebration, Toran escaped the crowds and made his way to the central tent, his home and chief quarters. As he lifted the ragged pelt entrance and ducked through he was greeted by an uncommon site. Usually, after a hunt, he'd be greeted by his maidens, but before him now stood a man, as pale as the last months snows, trembling in his wolf pelt attire. Beside him, two of Wulfbaen’s personal clans guard.

He spoke to the man, clearly one of the huntsmen, only not from his party, due to his presence prior to the return of Toran, he needed to know why he was brought before him.

“Another clan? Here in these woods?”, asked the intrigued chief,

“N-no, they were west, near the clearing, t-they seemed organised, like how we hunt. We, we tracked them, they spotted us..”

“And..” Toran asked, motioning his hand for the hunter to continue, seemingly annoyed. He never liked the talk of the “other clan”, all fantasy, the normal folk didn't see that, it was for him to guide them to the truth, but that was proving difficult with more and more reports of seeing hunting packs.

“I-i ran back, with a couple others, we took the deer. We heard nothing from behind us, no screams, but..the others don't seem to have returned yet.”

Toran thanked the hunter for coming to him, before sitting down on a seat he’d fashioned from an upturned tree stump. He sent the two warriors to fetch the riders, there were little to no horses in this land, those which could be found were often far too weak, it was a great honour to have some for the messengers. If that clan wants to hunt in their woods, so be it, but never will another clan set foot in these lands again, there are few deer to hunt already, not including these trespassing huntsmen. By the time he'd finished that thought, his messenger riders had entered, awaiting his order with a strong aura of fear, attempted to be covered by a cocky stance, albeit failing.

“I had warned the other chieftains of this day many moons past, send word to the tribes in the Wulfs wood, the time has come. Any man who does not come back within the next two moons will be put to work on the camp, never to hunt. Now go! Go before I ban you from the summer raids!” To this, the men hurried out, stumbling to their horses before galloping out of the camp in all directions. Toran could sense a great battle coming, the trees whispered warnings through the night, warnings heard by the bones of all.

Nation Stuff

Location: Far away from the known world

Religion: Gods of the Forest. There are some who claim to be able to understand the whispers of the trees, naming themselves as seers, who are treated like a King when they arrive. They wear iconic leafed robes from head to toe, and have various sweet smelling herbs and flowers dangling from them.

Common Housing: Deer hide tents and some poorly constructed wooden structures

Weapons: Stone spears with the occasional shield fashioned from wood. Many carry makeshift javelins, six or seven to each man.

Government: Toran Wulfsbaen is the chieftain of Clan Wulfsbaen, with complete control.

Military: The military consists of the clan’s hunters, gatherers and whoever is able bodied. They fight very well in their own lands.

Education: All that people knew was passed down from their mothers and fathers, or from the chieftain himself when training the young in the art of hunting.

OOC Post Statements

I apparently did this right, be sure to yell at me for all my mistakes though!

ALSO: I'd like to be close to fitzdepl, as we are doing a thing together so it doesn't get too boring being in the fog.