vaelora/Setting/Realms/Mentralin/Reaches/The Reaches.md

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> [!infobox|right]
> # The Reaches
> ![[reaches_coat.png.png]]
> **Coat of Arms**: Per fess argent and vert, in chief a pine tree proper, in base a wolf’s head erased sable
> <table>
>   <tr><th colspan="2" align="center" style="background:#4a2c2c;color:white;">General Information</th></tr>
>   <tr><td>Leader</td><td>None; governed by city lords, merchant councils, and tribal chieftains</td></tr>
>   <tr><td>Demonym</td><td>No unifying term; usually by city or clan (e.g. Lysmari, Elkborn)</td></tr>
>   <tr><td>Population</td><td>Approx. 8.5 million (60% urban in the southeast, 40% rural/tribal elsewhere)</td></tr>
>   <tr><td>Demography</td><td>Majority Tul people; urban merchant class, tribal hunter-gatherers, and rural peasantry</td></tr>
>   <tr><th colspan="2" align="center" style="background:#4a2c2c;color:white;">Government</th></tr>
>   <tr><td>Type</td><td>Confederation of Free Cities and tribal territories; no central authority</td></tr>
>   <tr><th colspan="2" align="center" style="background:#4a2c2c;color:white;">Notable People</th></tr>
>   <tr><td>Notable Figures</td><td>High Priestess Kelvara of Par-Thalax, Chieftain Bral of the Grey Elk, Lord-Mayor Merkan Toll of Drestal</td></tr>
>   <tr><th colspan="2" align="center" style="background:#4a2c2c;color:white;">Military</th></tr>
>   <tr><td>Land Forces</td><td>City militias, tribal warbands, mercenary guilds</td></tr>
>   <tr><td>Naval Forces</td><td>Small private fleets for trade and defense, primarily out of Lysmar and Varneth</td></tr>
>   <tr><th colspan="2" align="center" style="background:#4a2c2c;color:white;">Important Locations</th></tr>
>   <tr><td>Seat of Power</td><td>None; Val Batar serves as seasonal gathering place for tribal courts</td></tr>
>   <tr><td>Key Locations</td><td>Par-Thalax, Lysmar, Drestal, Val Batar, Freeport of Varneth</td></tr>
>   <tr><td>Wondrous Places</td><td>Shatar Mountains, Great Green Lake, Whispering Fen, Ruins of Thalavor</td></tr>
>   <tr><th colspan="2" align="center" style="background:#4a2c2c;color:white;">Infrastructure & Trade</th></tr>
>   <tr><td>Infrastructure</td><td>Stone roads near cities; ancient aqueducts and mago-mechanical ruins; tribal paths and river barges elsewhere</td></tr>
>   <tr><td>Trade Goods</td><td>Furs, timber, salt, iron, dried fish, herbs, relics, spirits-bound curios</td></tr>
> </table>


## Overview  
The Reaches stretch across a vast, cold expanse - nearly 700 kilometers wide and 500 from north to south - divided by nature, history, and ambition. It is a land of stark contrast: in the east, a cluster of self-governed Free Cities prospers through trade, diplomacy, and guarded autonomy; in the west, the wild Footlands unravel into tundra, deep forests, and frost-choked wetlands, home to proud nomadic clans and whispering spirits.

This is a realm without a crown. Power lies where it is claimed: in the coin of the merchant princes, in the oaths of the chieftains, in the weight of an axe or a writ of trade. The cities of the southeast - five great bastions and half a dozen smaller towns - form a tenuous alliance bound by necessity more than trust, their merchant lords derisively nicknamed "kings" by [[Temerian Empire|Temerian]] diplomats. These city-states act in mutual interest when threatened, but squabble often over tolls, harbor rights, and trade monopolies.

Westward, the so-called Footlands lie in the long shadow of the [[Shatar Mountains]]. These wilds are the ancestral grounds of the mountainborn tribes - hardy, wind-scarred clans who descend from those who fled the cataclysms of the Shattering. For them, survival is its own glory, and the spirits of frost and stone are as real as the changing seasons.

The Reaches attract the ambitious and the exiled, the free and the desperate. Its earth is rich, its ruins old, and its winters long. The [[Temerian Empire]] eyes it with suspicion. The [[Mentralian Kingdoms ]]seek its timber and iron. But the Reaches endure, not in spite of their disunity - but because of it.

## Geography  
The Reaches are a land of cold skies and older silences - caught between the storm-scoured peaks of the [[Shatar Mountains]] in the northwest and the river-bound, city-strewn lowlands in the southeast. Spanning over 700 kilometers from west to east and nearly 500 from north to south, this vast territory holds both wildness and fragile civilization in uneasy balance.

In the northwest, the land rises and splinters into the *Footlands*, a realm of taiga, bogs, and frozen tundra. Here, winter lingers long, and summer is little more than a thawing breath. Towering above all are the[[ Shatar Mountains]] - called _Windpeaks_ in the tongue of the native clans - whose snow-choked passes and jagged ridges fall sharply into sea-cliffs along the western edge. These highlands are home to scattered tribes whose lifeways are shaped by wind, stone, and spirit.

To the east, the land flattens into rolling hills and mossy lowlands where rivers cut winding paths toward the [[Taradas]] and the Inner Sea. Here lie the *Free Cities*, bastions of trade, politics, and precarious peace. Though no single power unites them, they form the closest thing to a confederation - linked by coin, council, and mutual distrust.

At the heart of the region flows the [[Danals River]], fed by the [[Great Green Lake]] in the north and forming the northeastern border with [[Talpis]]. Southward, the [[Taradas]] river carves its way through marsh and field until it reaches the sea near [[Carinthia]], a theocratic city-state whose influence casts long shadows across the southern Reaches.

Scattered across the land are broken ruins and ancient constructs - remnants of a civilization that predated even [[the Shattering]]. Strange groves and half-sunken towers linger still, some humming faintly with forgotten power. Travelers speak of metal bones buried beneath hills, of glowing glyphs that flicker in rainstorms, and of spirits that guard doorways to nowhere.

### The Five Great Free Cities
- **[[Lysmar]]**, known as the _Sapphire Gate_, sits upon the cold eastern coast. Its famed deepwater port and blue-sailed fleets make it the maritime heart of the Reaches. The city is ruled by **Matron-Lord Velira Anstrad**, whose merchant fleet rivals that of Velthane itself.
- **[[Drestal]]** lies inland among iron-rich hills, its skyline marked by smokestacks and steel-topped towers. Renowned for its forge-craft and sellswords, it is governed by **Lord-Mayor Merkan Toll**, whose grip over the city’s mercenary guilds ensures his rule.
- **[[Par-Thalax]]** rises like a white fang from a ravine laced with ancient stone. A theocracy ruled by **High Priestess Kelvara**, it reveres a chthonic spirit dwelling deep beneath its sanctified catacombs. The city is rigid, austere, and feared.
- **[[Varneth]]**, built along the deltas where river meets sea, is a labyrinth of docks, alleys, and commerce. Ruled by the fractious **Council of Nine**, its alleys run with silver - and blood. Assassins and poets walk the same streets.
- **[[Karnost]]**, perched atop basalt cliffs above the lower Taradas, is a grim fortress-city that guards the southern border. Ruled by reclusive **Baron Drel Vask**, it serves as both watchtower and bulwark against southern threats.
    

### The Six Lesser Towns
These smaller towns survive through vassalage and tribute to the cities they orbit. Among them are:

- **Revanport**, a busy trade dock ruled by Lysmar.
- **Osterglen**, a market town of the inland grainlands under Drestal’s protection.
- **Tharn’s Hollow**, a mining settlement claimed by Karnost.
- **Mereth’s Cross**, a river-crossing tollhold maintained by Varneth.
- **Brinnhollow**, an old fort-turned-village near the eastern marches.
- **Sablemere**, a marsh-side town governed by Par-Thalax, known for its eerie quiet and strange night-lights.

### The Tribes of the Footlands
West of the cities and beyond their roads lies a harsher world, where kinship and tradition hold greater weight than gold. Among the scattered peoples of the Footlands, the most well-known tribes include:

- **The Elkborn**, whose hunters follow the migration of great stags and whose tattoos tell the stories of every winter survived. Their warriors wield axes and wear antlered helms.
- **The Greywind Tribes**, who inhabit the higher slopes and revere the sky-spirits of storm and snow. Their stormcallers are said to summon lightning with bare hands.
- **The Hearthkin**, semi-settled clans who keep sacred hearthfires lit year-round. They often act as mediators and diplomats with the eastern towns.
- **The Winterfangs**, divided and dangerous, are a warrior society defined by internecine feuds and winter raiding. Their blood-oaths are ancient and often lethal.
- **The Boneguard**, a reclusive tribe whose warriors wear the bones of their ancestors and whose shamans claim to remember past lives. Their beliefs are older than written memory.

In the cold heart of winter, these tribes gather at *[[Val Batar]]*, a frost-bound town on the shores of the Great Green Lake. There, beneath aurora-lit skies, chieftains speak law, mend alliances, and plan the year ahead before returning to the solitude of their ranges.

## History  
The Reaches remember the silence before the storm - and the storms that never truly passed.

Before the Shattering, the region was said to be lush and mighty, its fields fed by flowing rivers, its cities gleaming with mago-technical wonders. Ruins still whisper of a golden age: collapsed towers humming with forgotten energy, shattered aqueducts that once carried more than water, and iron roots buried deep in the northern soil. But these echoes were silenced when the Veil descended and the world broke.

What followed was not silence, but madness.

In the centuries that followed the Shattering, the Reaches were torn apart by a brutal and chaotic era known as the *Warlord Period*. With no central power to rise from the ruins, dozens - perhaps hundreds - of petty warlords carved territories with fire and blade. Some claimed ancient bloodlines, others wore crowns of bone and ash. Cities were razed and rebuilt within years. Fortresses turned into slaughterhouses. The rivers ran dark in spring, and the land itself recoiled.

Worse than the blades were the rituals. Many warlords turned to spirits - bargaining with hungry powers born from pain, vengeance, and despair. The desperate and the cruel bound these spirits into weapons, soldiers, even into their own flesh. What began as necromantic atrocity grew into spiritual rot. The blood spilled during this time soaked not only the soil but the Veil itself, twisting many local spirits into warped, hungry echoes of their former selves. These corrupted remnants still cling to ruined forts, tainted groves, and burial grounds, whispering old commands to those who stray too near.

It is said that even now, some ghosts of the warlords linger - not just as spirits, but in bloodlines and secret cults.

Eventually, the chaos burned itself out. The eastern reaches began to stabilize as warlords fell, fled, or turned to trade. The west, meanwhile, was emptied - some say by the wrath of the mountains themselves. Survivors withdrew into the Shatar Mountains, where they forsook the ruins of fallen lords and instead built lives shaped by stone, storm, and spirit. There, over generations, the mountain tribes were born.

Centuries later, the _Day of Descent_ came: a ceremonial return of the mountain folk to the lowlands. They came not as conquerors but as inheritors, laying claim to ancestral lands with song, rite, and blade. Since then, they have walked the footlands and taiga, never fully at peace, never fully at war with the lowlanders.

Meanwhile, the southeast rose again - not under kings, but under coin. Adventurers, exiles, visionaries, and criminals built new lives among the ruins. These became the Free Cities, each independent, each proud, bound only by the necessities of trade and survival. No single city rules, but all keep watch on one another, and all remember what happens when power concentrates.

Recent generations have seen the looming presence of the Temerian Empire to the east and the cautious overtures of Mentralian merchants to the south. Some cities, like [[Par-Thalax]], have met this pressure with iron resolve and ancient power. Others appease with coin or diplomacy.

But the scars of the Warlord Period run deep. Haunted ruins still bleed their influence into the land. Cults rise in hidden alleys. And deep beneath the snow and stone, something old and forgotten still remembers the age of fire.

## Social Structure  
The Reaches are a realm of fractured power - no crowns, no empires, only what can be claimed and defended. Authority wears many faces: merchant prince, clan elder, mercenary captain, or wandering shaman.

In the eastern Free Cities, wealth and reputation define hierarchy. Merchant kings and trade lords preside from high halls or fortified counting-houses, their rule backed by silver and steel. Some cities are governed by councils, others by oligarchs who pass power within families. Guilds hold sway in crafts and commerce, while mercenary companies patrol the walls and hunt threats beyond them - for a price. Beneath these elites are the freefolk: artisans, scribes, dockhands, and debt-bound laborers who trade safety for service.

Outside the cities, in scattered villages and trading posts, the rule of law thins like morning frost. Here, mercenaries and monster hunters are as vital as blacksmiths or millers. Banditry, beasts, and worse haunt the roads and wilds, and few hamlets go long without posting a bounty or offering food and fire to a sellsword band. Some become folk heroes. Others, nightmares with blades. Loyalty is bought, lost, and bought again.

In the northwestern wilderness, tribal clans descended from the mountainfolk live by older laws. Each clan swears to its land and spirit-pacts, led by chieftains chosen by deed and voice, not blood. Shamans interpret omens and commune with ancestral spirits, guiding major decisions. While nomadic at heart, most tribes maintain a sacred homeland - cairn-strewn valleys or wind-hallowed woods - tended year-round by the elderly and devout.

Feared above all are the [[Daughters of the Wolf]]: a secretive, all-female order that recruits across tribal lines, favoring the exiled and outcast. They venerate a spectral pack-spirit of unknowable shape - many believe it is not one being, but a cabal of ancient predator spirits. Their teachings blur the line between frenzy and trance. It is said they devour their fallen foes and inherit their strength, and that the Old Wolf speaks in dreams and hunger. Where they walk, blood follows - and the wind carries their howls for miles. In civilized circles, they are whispered of with both fascination and horror.

The tribes return each winter to [[Val Batar]], their neutral council ground, where rival clans trade, wed, barter, and settle feuds in blood or oath. Though no single ruler speaks for them all, the shamans often serve as final arbiters in disputes too deep for warriors to resolve.

There is no formal caste in the Reaches, but one's place is written in action. In the Free Cities, gold buys authority; in the wilds, grit earns it. Warriors, smiths, hunters, raiders, smugglers - any may rise, any may fall. It is a land where names are forged, not inherited.

And beneath the visible world, secret cults, spirit-bound warlocks, and shadowy cabals write their own rules in blood and ash. Power in the Reaches is never empty for long. It simply waits to be seized.

## People and Culture  
The Reaches are a land of survivors - hard-eyed traders, trail-hardened wanderers, and fierce, oath-bound clans. From the crowded stone streets of the Free Cities to the wind-blown yurts of the mountain tribes, life in the Reaches is shaped by cold winters, short summers, and the knowledge that nothing is truly permanent.

In the Free Cities, life is fast and sharp. Wealth flows through markets, pleasure houses, and guildhalls, feeding a culture that prizes wit, ambition, and cunning. Trust is rare, and most citizens assume a stranger wants something - until they’re proven otherwise. Hospitality exists, but it is often laced with intent. Reputation matters, and slights are remembered in ledgers and in blood.

Family ties are sacred, not just for love but survival. A strong family can offer protection, secure trade, or avenge an insult. Dynasties rise and fall in the space of a generation, and cleverness is more admired than virtue. Many live in the shadow of debt or danger, yet the cities offer chances found nowhere else in the world.

Beyond the walls, rural folk live by the rhythms of the land. They till frozen fields, cut timber, and barter with passing caravans or mercenary bands. Here, hospitality is binding: to share bread and salt is to offer peace, at least until dawn. Local customs vary, but most hold to a simple code: help your neighbor when you can, and don't ask questions if they disappear in the night.

Among the tribes of the northwest, culture is shaped by the seasons and the spirits. Life is communal, with each member contributing to the clan’s survival. Strength is honored, but so is wisdom and the ability to listen to the wind. **Honor is currency**, and reputation follows warriors across generations. Shamans tell stories by firelight, and children learn to fight by hunting wolves and worse.

Women and men stand equal in all walks of life, whether leading councils or bearing arms. In the cities, gender is a footnote compared to one's coin or cunning. Among the tribes, ability is everything - though some clans trace leadership through maternal lines, especially those tied to the [[Daughters of the Wolf]], an all-female mystic warbands  that follow the spirit of the Old Wolf Pack.

### Social Quirks and Traditions
The Reaches are a land of superstition, sometimes warranted and sometimes misled believes formed through tradition. Customs can vary village by village and tribe by tribe, but some are more wide spread:

- **Naming Feasts**: In the tribes, a child’s name is not given at birth, but earned by their first act of significance - be it slaying a beast, saving a sibling, or surviving a blizzard. Until then, they are simply “cub,” “spark,” or “sprig.”
- **Salt and Shadow**: In the cities, it’s common to place a pinch of salt on a window ledge to keep dark spirits out - and a coin in the shadow beneath it to invite fortune in. Superstition dictates never to speak of either aloud.
- **Oath Chains**: Rural folk and mercenaries wear small chains braided into their belts or hair, each link representing a sworn promise. Breaking an oath without breaking the chain is considered a sign of treachery.
- **The Hushed Hour**: In most tribal camps, the hour after sunset is sacred silence - meant for listening to the spirits and remembering the dead. Loud speech is considered taboo unless there's danger or birth.
- **The Last Cup**: Tavern-goers in the east always leave a final sip of drink untouched at the table’s center - for the spirits, or for the fallen, depending on who you ask. To drink it yourself is to invite misfortune.
- **The Winter Walk**: It is tradition in many clans that elders who feel their time has come take one final walk into the snow at first frost. If their spirit is ready, they vanish without trace. If not, they return - wiser, colder, and changed.

###  Fashion
Clothing in the Reaches is first and foremost a shield—against cold, against blade, against attention. From the stone alleys of the Free Cities to the wind-lashed yurts of the mountain tribes, fashion is shaped by survival and status in equal measure.

In the cities, garments blend utility with ambition. Layers of wool and dyed leather form the base, often draped with finely woven cloaks or tailored coats designed to impress rather than protect. Dark, earthen hues are common, though merchant lords and guildmasters favor subtle patterns stitched with silver or ochre thread to denote affiliation and wealth. Hoods are wide, sleeves are long, and boots are always worn tall—good for mud, worse for retreat. Jewelry, when worn, tends to be understated: chain-linked pins, etched rings, the occasional pendant shaped like a trade seal or family crest. Among the wealthy, fur linings and imported silks from the Mentralian south are status symbols, though wearing too much extravagance invites suspicion or worse.

Tailors in [[Varneth]] are famed for oil-treated cloaks that shed both rain and blood. In [[Drestal]], a fashion trend among mercenary captains favors plated coats—part armor, part statement—embossed with old clan sigils or stolen heraldry. In [[Par-Thalax]], fashion bends to faith: robes are austere, colorless, and trimmed in symbols of doctrinal purity. Exposed skin is frowned upon. Women veil their mouths, men their brows.

By contrast, among the mountain tribes, fashion is an extension of lineage and land. Each tribe weaves its own aesthetic from bone, leather, and thick-wool cloaks dyed with lichen and bloodroot. Tattoos and scarification often replace jewelry, serving both as memory and identity. Warriors wear antlered helms, patterned bracers, and cloaks fastened with bone-carved brooches. The Boneguard, in particular, drape themselves in the remains of their ancestors—ribs worn as shoulder pieces, finger bones braided into hair. Colors are symbolic, not ornamental: red for blood spilled, grey for mourning, white for death accepted.

Tribal fashion is less concerned with beauty and more with meaning. A single patterned sash may recount a lifetime of hunts. A pendant carved from obsidian might mark a pact made with a spirit or a lover lost to the frost. Practicality is never far from mind: boots are fur-lined and near-knee height; gloves are reinforced with bark or hide. Wind is not a style—it is an enemy to be dressed against.

### Cuisine
Food in the Reaches is as much a matter of ingenuity as it is of tradition. With long winters and short growing seasons, every meal is hard-earned, and every bite carries a history of hunger.

In the Free Cities, cuisine reflects both regional scarcity and cosmopolitan trade. Dried fish, root vegetables, and black bread form the staple fare of the lower classes—accompanied by fermented cabbage, pickled river onions, or salt-stewed meats. Spices are rare but prized: peppercorns from Mentralin, firebark from the southern jungles, and brined lemonroot are the marks of a well-stocked kitchen. City markets bustle with salted eels, blood sausages, and thick barley porridges served in cracked bowls alongside sharp cheeses wrapped in ashcloth.

The wealthier urbanites enjoy more exotic fare. Merchant feasts may include roasted game birds stuffed with herbs, honeyed turnips, and seared eel-glass—a thin, jellylike fish found only in deep delta waters. Par-Thalax permits no indulgence: meals there are ritualized and austere, often involving bitter bread, boiled mushrooms, and sanctified broth poured over white stones. The consumption of meat is ceremonial and rare, its preparation bound by strict doctrine.

By contrast, in the mountain tribes, cuisine is a matter of preservation, mobility, and symbolism. Smoke-cured venison, fermented goat’s milk, and marrow-thick stews make up the daily fare. Meals are shared communally, eaten around central hearths with hands or carved horn spoons. Meat is sacred—whether elk, bear, or snow-goat—and every part of the animal is used. The first slice of heart is always offered to the fire, to the spirits, or to the clan’s honored dead.

A staple of survival among the tribes is Tarnok, a dense, grease-packed food made from pounded dried elk meat mixed with rendered elk fat, crushed pine nuts, and bitterroot bark. The mixture is formed into thick slabs and wrapped in birch-leaf bundles, then stored in bark boxes or smoke-blacked satchels. Tarnok does not spoil, and a single block can sustain a hunter for days. Its taste is earthy, slightly bitter, and unmistakably strong—often chased with hot snowmelt tea or spiritwine. Elders claim a mouthful of tarnok carries not only strength, but memory—linking each bite to the beast it came from, and the hunt that brought it down. Among the Elkborn, sharing tarnok with another is a gesture of deep trust, sometimes even courtship.

Flatbread baked on river stones is common, as are ash-roasted tubers dug from frozen soil. In the deep winter months, tribes rely on dried meats, moss-cakes mixed with rendered fat, and berrywine fermented in hollowed-out bone jars. Certain clans consume “hunger broth”—a bitter soup made from pine needles, smoked marrow, and salty lichen—during fasts or rites of endurance.

Ceremonial dishes are tied to seasons and spirits. During the First Hunt Feast, tribes burn the heart of the first kill over open flame before simmering the flesh into communal stew. The Boneguard, more grimly, consume marrow from the bones of deceased elders in rare rites of remembrance.

## Religion  
Faith in the Reaches is a tapestry of whispers, blood, and breath. Lacking a central dogma or unifying creed, spiritual life varies wildly between tribes, towns, and cities - each clinging to its own rites, fears, and bargains with the unseen.

### Spirits of the Land and Sky
Among the tribes and footland dwellers, the world teems with spirits - each brook, storm, and beast potentially housing a will of its own. Worship is less about praise and more about balance and negotiation. These spirits are neither good nor evil, but demand respect.

#### The Stormfather and the Deep Ones
In the high Shatar ranges, worship is split between two dominant forces in the dualistic traditions of the mountainfolk. The clans who stayed in the mountains belief in two forces of nature, [[the Stormfather and the Deep Ones]]. The *Stormfather* is a howling wind-spirit, invoked in rites of passage and warfare. Shamans "ride the wind" in trance-dances during lightning storms to receive visions or call for rain. Opposite to him,  the *Deep Ones* are chthonic entities said to live beneath the mountain roots. Offerings are buried in stone cairns or thrown into deep crevasses. Earthquakes are interpreted as displeasure, and rare geodes are considered omens or gifts.    

These two forces are seen as complementary opposites - Wind and Stone, Change and Endurance. Some mountain clans depict them as estranged lovers, whose reunion would bring ruin or salvation, depending on the traditions of the clan.

#### Rites of the Wolf
[[The Old Pack]] - revered by the feared wolf-women, wo form the [[Daughters of the Wolf]] - demands rites of blood and silence. To be part of the [[Daughters of the Wolf]] means to be part of [[The Old Pack]]. Those who are deemed worthy to join the clan fast for seven nights in the woods and must survive a solitary hunt. When they return with a fresh kill it is ripped apart and devoured by the whole clan raw and bloody. 

The **Rite of the Red Maw** is what lowlanders and city-dwellers fear the most. It is performed in deep forests during the full moon nights in the deepest of winter. During these nights fires are forbidden in border settlements, lest they attract the pack's attention. For in these nights the [[Daughters of the Wolf]] go for a savage hunt. They are known to raid villages or hamlets and abduct the poor souls there. It is rumoured that the victims of these nights are ripped apart by the wolf-women in the deepest of the woods and devoured while their hearts are still beating.

Despite their terrifying and savage reputation, the Pack is not seen as evil by most tribes - rather, they are protectors of ancient strength, terrifying but necessary.


### Rural Worship and Common Festivals
In hamlets and small towns, folk worship blends ancestral veneration, seasonal rites, and localized spirit pacts. Most homes keep *Hearth Idols*, passed from mother to daughter, and offer a sliver of bread each dawn. These people hold the spirits of the land and beasts in high regard and do their best to appease them in order to be granted a good hunt, plenty of harvest or a peaceful marriage.

There are several major festivals that follow the cycle of seasons. *The Thawing* in early spring celebrates the end of winter. Spirit-burns, effigies of snow spirits, are cast into rivers to banish cold. *Fertility rites* are held under full moonlight, and it’s customary to gift tools or seeds.  *The Long Night Vigil* in midwinter is celebrated to ward off wandering corrupted spirits while households keep lanterns burning from sundown to sunrise, the light deterring the vision of the shadowy figures. Children place offerings of milk and ashcakes outside to appease *Raggomor*, the “gnawing shadow,” said to devour memories. In late summer, the *First Hunt Feast* honors the spirits of slain animals with a great feast after successful hunts. During the feasts it is custom, that the heart of the first kill in the season is burned in a fire as an offering.

### City Faiths and Urban Fractures
In the Free Cities, spirit pacts evolve into cults, cabals, and whispered contracts. The anonymity of city life allows **vice-spirits** to thrive: beings of excess, desire, and fortune. Worship is transactional: gamble your soul, earn your luck.

> [!aside|clean right title]
> ***Notable Urban Cults***
> *The Gilt Fang*: A cult of gamblers, merchants, and assassins who worship a spirit of risk and reward. Their temples resemble gambling dens, and all deals are sealed with blood pricks and dice throws.
> *The Veiled Ember*: A sensual cult serving a spirit of pleasure and flame. Mostly hidden in bathhouses and brothels, their rites include shared dreams induced by sacred incense.
 > *The Drowned Kiss*: Servants of a spirit of oblivion and sorrow. Mostly found among addicts and the grieving, they offer whispered prayers to forget pain or erase past guilt - sometimes at great cost.    

#### The Creed of the Veil
While never dominant, the [[Creed of the Veil]] has planted its banners in the major cities - particularly those near [[Carinthia]]. Its Pallbearers maintain shrines for the honored dead, and its *Day of Sealed Skies* is quietly observed by many across the Reaches, even if only to show respect. However, the Creed’s distrust of spirit pacts has led to tension. Their Veilwardens clash with local traditions, and in some towns, the Veil’s temples often stand empty or vandalized.

On the other hand heresies of the Creed prosper in the wild and untamed hinterlands of the Reaches. Mad prophets gather those who lost everything around them under different names, like *The Scorched Scroll* or the *Reclaimers of Divinity* and similar. All of them are of the heresy of the *Unshackled Flame*, that seeks to rip the veil apart to reach liberation from the harsh lives. These cults are a spawning ground for new corrupted spirits, that hollow out the believers souls to feast on their rage and inflame it even more.

#### The Scaled Doctrine of Par-Thalax
Beneath the stone city of [[Par-Thalax]] lies a mighty spirit of unknowable origin, sometimes called *He Who Slumbers in Stone* or *The Dweller Below*. This religion is enforced throughout the city and known as [[The Scaled Doctrine of Par-Thalax]]. Its, solely female, priestesses enforce strict social purity, demand virginity among the acolytes, and conduct rites of silence and sacrifice beneath the city in obsidian halls.

The doctrine views the spirit as the crippled, but still powerful remains of an old god who watches, protects, and punishes. Sacrifices - animal or human - are said to be necessary to keep his power bound to the city.

## Education  
In the Reaches, knowledge is as unevenly distributed as the land itself. Formal education is rare and prized. In the southeastern cities, wealthy merchant families hire private tutors or send their children to guild-sponsored schools focused on trade, law, or to arcane mentors to learn [[Setting/Magical Traditions/Alchemy]] or [[Setting/Magical Traditions/Spirit Binding]]. Literacy, while not universal, is growing among the urban elite, who value cleverness, numeracy, and negotiation as much as swordplay.

Among the poorer classes, learning is pragmatic. Most children inherit the trade of their parents - blacksmiths pass down their craft, sailors their charts, healers their tinctures. Instruction happens in forges, markets, and fields, rather than in classrooms. Those who cannot learn fast enough rarely survive long.

In the tribes of the footlands and mountain valleys, education flows through memory and story. Songs, tales, and rites are the vessel of ancestral knowledge. Shamans, often the most respected members of a tribe, are keepers of both history and mystery - guardians of old paths, spirit-lore, and survival wisdom. It is through them that the tribes remember who they are, and how to speak to the winds, the stones, and the dead.

Two distinct traditions of spiritual scholarship define tribal mysticism of the Greywind clans that remained living in the [[Shatar Mountains]]. *Stormcallers* bind themselves to the spirits of wind and weather, learning to call down tempests, guide hunts through fog, or break sieges with lightning. *Mountainbinders*, in contrast, seek communion with the deep and hidden forces beneath the world. They can stir the stone, fracture ice, and summon silence that deafens. Both paths are feared and revered, and those who follow them are marked - often physically - by the elemental powers they host.

In **Par-Thalax**, education is discipline. Children are raised under the [[The Scaled Doctrine of Par-Thalax|Scaled Doctrine]], schooled in silence, obedience, and ritual. Literacy is restricted to holy texts and military codices, and only the temple-trained are taught to read in full. Knowledge is power - but power must be pure. Those who prove too clever without sanction often vanish.

But perhaps more than any formal tradition, the Reaches are a haven for the unbound mind. It is whispered that more sorcerers, alchemists, and spiritbinders live here than in any other land - not in great halls or academies, but in solitude and secrecy. Many are exiles: cast out from the [[Mentralian Kingdoms]] for heresy, or hunted by [[Temerian Empire]] for tampering with forbidden arts. In the Reaches, they find ruin and shadow in equal measure. Some raise towers of stone and sigil in the high hills. Others vanish into vine-choked ruins, chasing truths too dangerous to speak aloud. Local legends tell of wandering wisefolk offering cryptic lessons, of wards glowing in mossy cairns, of unnatural lights flickering in the woods at night. Here, knowledge is often a curse - but even curses, in the Reaches, are freely chosen.

## Law and Jurisdiction  
>[!aside|clan title]+ 
>**Blades and Blood: Duels & Execution Rites in the Reaches** 
>
>*Vareth – The Golden Circle*
>Dueling is a legal right among citizens. Fights are held at dawn in a gilded ring within the city's arena. Only light armor and single blades are allowed. [[Duelists]] must kiss the sigil of judgment before drawing steel.
>
>*Par-Thalax – Silent Severance*
>Executions are never public. Condemned individuals are led into the Cavern of Black Flame beneath the central temple. The only sign of death is a new obsidian mask hung on the Temple Wall of Stillness the next day.
>
> *Karnost – Blade for Coin*
>Disputes between merchants can be resolved by hiring duel-champions. These warriors, known as _Gilded Blades_, wear red sashes and are bound by contract law to fight in their patron’s stead - often to the death.
>
>*The Elkborn – The Rites of Red Stone* 
>To atone for murder, the guilty may challenge a relative of the victim in ritual combat beside the clan’s sacred red boulder. If they fall, their blood is smeared across the stone. If they win, the debt is considered paid - though shame remains.
>
>*Coastal Towns – Drowned Mercy*
>Executions for piracy and smuggling are done by stone-weighting: the condemned is bound with rope and coral weights, then thrown into the tide during a red-moon tide. If their body returns to shore, their guilt is questioned.
>
>*The Winterfangs  – The Howling Blade* 
>Each clan warrior carries a short ceremonial blade known as the _howler_. Insults or breaches of honor can be answered immediately with a duel. Once the challenge is made and the blade drawn, blood must be spilled - on flesh or soil.
>
>*The Wolf-Sisters – Trial by Moonfang*
> Among the feral mystics of the Old Pack, disputes and accusations are settled beneath the full moon. Combatants are anointed with blood and ash, then don ritual masks of horn and hide. The fight is to submission, unless either invokes _fang-right_ - a challenge to the death, whose winner earns a tattoo of the crescent fang and the right to lead a hunt. Executions, when rare, are done by silent mauling under the eyes of the pack spirit, said to take the condemned’s soul directly. In either of these ways, the remains of the executed become a ritual feast for the others.

The Reaches know no central law - justice here is as varied as the snow patterns across the [[Shatar Mountains]]. City-states, towns, and tribes all practice their own forms of law, blending ancient customs with brute pragmatism.

In the Free Cities, law is tied to power and wealth. Merchant lords and councils issue decrees enforced by private militias or mercenaries. Legal disputes often end in bribes, favors, or duel-sanctioned resolutions. Civil trials are rare, and street justice - especially in poorer districts - is often the only kind. Smugglers and assassins thrive in the gaps, protected by silence or silver.

In rural villages and outposts, law is more immediate. Community elders or hired blades serve as judges, and punishment is often physical or economic: lashes, forced labor, banishment, or branding. Hospitality customs - bread and salt, hearth peace - are sacred, and violating them can bring a village’s unified wrath.

Among the Tribes again, law is not written but remembered - woven into songs, oaths, and the bone-rattling chants of the shamans.

Each clan has its own codes, but they share common approaches to speaking justice: 

- **Shamans** interpret the will of the spirits and pass judgment when the natural balance is disrupted.  
- **Blood debts** are serious and binding; murder must be repaid in kind or by significant sacrifice (gifts, exile, or service).
- **Ritual combat** is a common path to settle disputes, either to first blood or death, overseen by elders.
- **Spirit trials** are rare and ominous: the accused is sent alone into the wilderness, marked with ash, to be judged by the land and its spirits. Survival is seen as vindication.
- **Exile**, branded with bone-carved glyphs, is reserved for those who defy the clan’s unity.
- 
Justice is deeply spiritual among the tribes. To wrong another is to unbalance the soul of the clan - and imbalance must always be corrected.

In [[Par-Thalax]], the law is doctrine. Crime is spiritual failure, and punishment is correction. Blood rites cleanse the soul, and silence is both weapon and punishment. The city’s inquisitors wear masks of polished obsidian and speak only in judgment. Trials are swift, final, and often unseen.

## Trade & Transport  
Trade in the Reaches is as volatile as its weather. In the southeast, the Free Cities form the region’s economic backbone - each a hub of commerce, craft, and ambition. Merchant guilds sponsor caravans that snake through treacherous terrain toward the Mentralian Kingdoms and the Temerian Empire, carrying lumber, furs, ore, smoked fish, spirit-powders, and salvaged relics from the ruined hinterlands. Imports include refined steel, salt, wine, and luxuries from the south and east.

Each major city guards its trade routes jealously, employing mercenary companies, warded toll keeps, and even sanctioned monster hunters to secure roads and river crossings. Yet no merchant is ever truly safe - bandit clans, wild spirits, and tribal raiders haunt the roads, and bribes are often quicker than blades at distant outposts.

River transport is crucial. The [[Taradas]] and [[Danals River]] serve as watery arteries connecting inland towns to the coast. Icebreaking barges and flat-bottomed longboats - some fitted with spirit-binding runes - carry goods even in winter months.

In the far west, trade takes a different shape. Barter dominates among the tribes and outposts. Furs, obsidian, bonecraft, and dried herbs are exchanged for salt, steel, and rare dyes. In [[Val Batar]], great trading circles form at winter's peak, where city emissaries bargain with clan chieftains under the watchful gaze of shamans and tradition.

Maritime trade exists, though treacherous. Only the southern ports along the [[ Shattered Sea]] support consistent sea routes, where lean ships built in Revanport attempt trade with [[Carinthia]] and the distant island-realms of the [[Golden Coast]] or [[Lao-Shan]]. Storms, pirates, and seamonsters take their toll.

## Flora and Fauna
The natural world of the Reaches is no less unforgiving than its winters or politics. From the frost-scoured peaks of the [[Shatar Mountains]] to the sodden lowlands near the Inner Sea, life clings to the soil with a tenacity born of hardship. Here, nature does not flourish—it endures. The flora and fauna of this cold and fractured realm are shaped by long seasons of scarcity, ancient violence, and the slow churn of time beneath grey skies.

Forests in the central and western Reaches are dominated by the ironpine—tall, dark-needled trees with bark as tough as boiled leather. These trees resist wind, rot, and flame, and their sap is both bitter and flammable. Hunters often use it to seal wounds or spark fires in freezing rain. Beneath the trees, clinging to stone and old roots, grows fennrot moss—a dense, dark green mat said to thrive best where blood has soaked the ground. Tribal herbalists value it for its use in poultices and bedding, though many avoid it during the full moon.

In the lower floodplains and meadows of the southeast, whispergrass dominates the landscape. Thin-stalked and brittle, this grass produces a soft rasping sound in the slightest breeze. Locals claim it “remembers” death, and that it hisses more loudly where killing has occurred. Whether truth or folklore, few sleep soundly near large fields of it.

Occasionally, in high mountain passes or forgotten valleys, stonebloom flowers appear during the short thaw. These pale, bluish blooms emerge through snow and rock alike, and carry within them a numbing agent valued by apothecaries and assassins. The petals are delicate, but the plant’s roots can split stone over years of slow growth.

Another plant of note is ghostvine—an aggressive creeper that blankets ruins, tree trunks, and abandoned paths throughout the lowlands. Its silver-green leaves shimmer faintly in moonlight, and its tendrils are strong enough to crack stone over time. When burned, the vine produces a scent said to repel wandering spirits, though excessive exposure causes vivid, sometimes nightmarish dreams. In some backwater villages, ghostvine is burned during funerals to keep the dead from returning.

As for the beasts of the Reaches, they are creatures of grit and instinct, born into a world that neither coddles nor forgives. The grey elk of the taiga are among the most revered and hunted. Towering creatures with sprawling antlers and thick hides, they serve as a symbol of endurance for the Elkborn clans. Every part of the animal is used—meat, hide, antler, even sinew—and killing one is an act both sacred and brutal.

In the mountains, Shatar bears reign supreme. These massive, white-pelted creatures are rarely seen but often feared. Solitary and territorial, they are known to carry old scars—arrowheads embedded in thick muscle, chains from forgotten hunts still rusted around their limbs. Tribal lore holds that some are ancient guardians, too stubborn to die, too wise to forget.

Swamps and marshes hide other predators. Fenstalkers, long-bodied and pale-eyed, prowl the still waters of the Whispering Fen. Resembling bloated otters with unnatural patience, they drag prey beneath the surface without a sound. Their cries—often mistaken for weeping children—echo through fog-laced evenings, drawing the unwary toward the reeds.

Closer to human settlements, blackjackals roam the hills. Lean and sharp-eyed, they hunt in packs and are known to shadow travelers for miles, waiting for fatigue, injury, or folly to offer opportunity. Some say they are not animals at all, but fallen spirits bound in flesh. Others simply load their crossbows and keep moving.

Above all others, the carrion crows of Val Batar hold a strange place in the region’s folklore. Larger than common crows and with a startling cleverness in their eyes, they are believed to carry the names of the dead to the beyond. It is tradition among the tribes to whisper the name of a fallen warrior to the circling crows—so that their soul will not walk alone.

Rumors persist of rarer predators—white-scaled winterdrakes said to nest in remote cliffside caves, wingless and snake-like, moving through snow like water. Their existence is debated, but enough torn remains have been found after storms to keep the stories alive.

Even the mundane in the Reaches is tinged with unease. Hares change their coats with the frost and vanish without prints, their white forms ghosting through snow as if born from it. Ravens gather on old gallows and broken watchtowers, silent as judges until disturbed. Wild goats balance along cliffside ruins, their hooves tapping on shattered stone as if echoing ancient rhythms. The horned dusk-owls of the southern forests cry only once a night—always just after sunset, always facing east. No one knows why, and few care to ask.

Foxes stalk the borders of farmsteads and shrines alike, clever and brazen, sometimes seen sitting still as statues near burial cairns—then gone when approached. Even the cattle bred in the lowland farms are known to stamp at unseen things, their ears twitching toward empty fields. Fishermen along the Danals River still speak of black-finned eels that surface only on moonless nights, and of sturgeon with scars older than the Free Cities themselves.

Yet it is the wolves that truly belong to the Reaches—not just as predators, but as omens, rivals, and reflections. Packs roam nearly every part of the region, from the high taiga to the lowland fens. They are not monstrous, not touched by magic in any overt way. They are, simply, ever-present. Observers rather than intruders. Watchers rather than wanderers.

In the tribal foothills, wolves are seen as kin-spirit and competition alike. The Elkborn say the wolves test them with hunger each winter, culling the careless and strengthening the rest. The Winterfangs leave offerings of bone and fat near den sites at midwinter, believing the wolves to be messengers of something older than gods. Even among the Free Cities, where superstition bows to coin, people speak of “Wolf Nights”—when the wind dies, the streets fall silent, and the howls seem to circle the walls themselves.

Their presence is woven into the land’s folklore and its fears. Some say to meet the eyes of a lone wolf and not be followed is a blessing. Others claim that when a pack encircles a house in total silence, it is not the wolves one should fear—but whatever they are keeping out.

Wolves are never hunted for sport in the Reaches. To kill a wolf without need is to tempt misfortune; to kill an alpha is to curse your bloodline. Even in war, when everything else is fodder, wolf pelts are left untouched.

Among the[[Daughters of the Wolf]], their connection to these creatures is more than symbolic. Some claim they run with real wolves under moonlight, indistinguishable in sound and motion. Others whisper that the packs themselves are scouts for the Old Pack spirit—watching, listening, choosing.

In the Reaches, nature is neither passive nor indifferent. It is a presence, vast and uncaring, and all who live within it must bargain for their place in the food chain. Whether by fire, fang, root, or claw—nothing here is ever truly tame.

## Military  
There is no single army in the Reaches - only swords hired, sworn, or born to a cause.

The Free Cities maintain private militias, often well-trained and well-equipped, but loyal only to their coinmasters or councils. Each city fields its own defense force: city guards, watchmen, and contracted mercenary companies. [[Par-Thalax]] alone stands apart with its disciplined, almost fanatical theocratic army known as the _Bloodmarked_ - an elite force of spirit-bound warriors and masked zealots who guard its obsidian temple with ruthless precision.

Mercenaries form the true martial backbone of the region. Renowned companies like the _Brazen Fangs_, the _Thorns of Ice_, and _Red Vale’s Vultures_ sell their strength to the highest bidder - sometimes switching sides in the same season. Contracts are seen as binding, but for most only to the letter. Some cunning employers ask these promises to be enforced through spirit-oaths or blood-in. Betrayal of the mercenaries contracts is punished by supernatural curse or sanctioned vendetta. A handful of wartrained [[Circle of Magi|magi]] from [[Anderon]] and other spiritbinders lend arcane support to the most wealthy or desperate lords.

Monster hunters are a distinct and often feared profession. These individuals - or small bands - make a living tracking, slaying, or banishing corrupted spirits, revenants, and beasts that haunt the ruins and wilds. Some are veterans of mercenary companies, others bear marks of pacts with spirits themselves. While essential to rural safety, their methods are often brutal, and their presence stirs unease. Many are loners, marked by talismans, scars, and half-whispered names like “Ashdrake,” “Gallows Hound,” or “She-of-Thorns” in order to avoid the creatures they hunt to gain power over their real names.

In the west, the tribes are no less formidable. Though lacking formal rank or uniform, they fight with ferocity and cohesion born of tradition. Each clan trains warriors from childhood, with spear, bow, and mount. The Elkborn and Winterfang clans maintain full seasonal warbands made up of a caste of warriors, while others rely on skirmishers and hunters.

Foremost among the feared are the [[Daughters of the Wolf]]. This enigmatic sisterhood of warrior-mystics hails from the tribes of the [[Shatar Mountains]], chosen from outcasts, orphans, and the fierce-hearted. Bound by the spirit of [[The Old Pack]] - a primal force of hunger, fury, and unity - they move with feral grace in battle, often fighting in perfect silence. Rumors speak of rituals steeped in moonlight and blood, of cannibal rites where the hearts of fallen foes are consumed to bind their strength. To borderland settlers, they are nightmares given form. To their kin, they are holy. Said to channel the power of [[the Old Pack]] they move with supernatural coordination and strike in howling silence. Stories tell of border forts overrun in a single night, with only claw-marks and shredded banners left behind.

### Language
The Reaches are a land of fractured tongues—each shaped by migration, memory, and survival. Though no single language unites the region, patterns emerge along lines of geography, ancestry, and power.

In the eastern Free Cities, **Low Mentralic** is the dominant tongue. A simplified, regional offshoot of High Mentralic—the formal language of the southern kingdoms—it is the common speech of merchants, soldiers, artisans, and cityfolk. Stripped of ornate grammar, Low Mentralic favors function over flourish, laced with local idioms and loanwords from older dialects. In Lysmar, the port dialect borrows liberally from Kyourin sea-speech and Lao-Shani tonal inflections; in Varneth, the language twists through a hundred alleys, spliced with codes and slang born of trade, smuggling, and subterfuge.

Further inland, towns like  [[Drestal]]  or [[Karnost]] cling closer to the Mentralian root, their dialects clipped and formal—still colored by old loyalties and military lingo. Meanwhile, in [[Par-Thalax]], language is tightly controlled: theocratic edicts dictate structure and vocabulary, and formal speech often mimics scripture.

Along the southern harbors and river deltas, mixed forms have emerged, mixing Mentralic foundation with foreign structure. Lao-Shani terms for wind, coin, and debt weave into local trade-speech, while Kyourin honorifics appear among sailors and caravan guards. On the docks of [[Revanport]] or the alleys of [[Freeport]], it’s not uncommon to hear four languages in a single exchange—and for none to be spoken fluently.

In contrast, the tribes of the western highlands and [[Shatar Mountains]] speak **Kaidhuna**, a descendant of the old Tul-Dar imperial tongue. Tonal, breath-heavy, and structured with layered honorifics, it is a language shaped by ritual, not reason. Outsiders often find it strange to the ear—more song than statement, more invocation than instruction. Each tribe’s version of Kaidhuna carries regional inflection, but all trace their roots to the shattered empire of old. Kaidhuna is also used in chants, oaths, and storykeeping. Shamans preserve ancestral epics in its older forms, while warriors use clipped versions for signaling in battle.

### Naming
> [!aside|show-title right] Names of the Reaches
> **Free Cities (Low Mentralic)**  
> Personal names tend to be practical, short, and often paired with family names or occupational identifiers.  
> - *Male*: Merkan, Drel, Jassan, Halver, Orin, Tollan  
> - *Female*: Velira, Sella, Brynn, Marenne, Caldra, Ysat  
> - *Surnames*: Anstrad, Toll, Vasden, Braye, Karrith, Dorne  
> - *Occupational / Street Names*: “of the Chain,” “Redhands,” “Tallow-Knife,” “the Ledger,” “Three-Silver”  
>  
> **Southern Ports & Harbors (Mixed Speech)**  
> Names blend Mentralic with Lao-Shani or Kyourin elements—often smoother, tonal, or abbreviated.  
> - *Examples*: Tomo Vel, Jien Drest, Hira Len, Kael Yao, Sarith Runei  
> - *Nicknames & Epithets*: “Tide-Walker,” “Salt-Eye,” “Wave-Sketch,” “Whisperwake”  
>  
> **Mountain Tribes (Kaidhuna)**  
> Names are layered and earned—drawn from nature, spirit rites, or ancestral deeds.  
> - *Birth Names*: Ash-Cub, Frost-Sprig, Ember-Breath, Wild-Tuft  
> - *Earned Names*: Stone-Breaker, Red-Sky, Silent Howl, Bone-Singer, Snow-Bitten  
> - *Lineage Tags*: “of the Elkborn,” “Greywind-Blood,” “Hearthlit,” “Daughter of Thorn-Valley”  
>  
> **Daughters of the Wolf (Pack-Names)**  
> Names are given through trance and blood rites—never written, rarely shared.  
> - *Pack-Names*: Moonfang, Throat-Taker, She-Who-Hunts-Alone, Ember-Maw, Shadow-Among-Boughs  

Names in the Reaches are more than labels—they are shields, offerings, and weapons. They mark lineage, allegiance, and, in some cases, power.

In the Free Cities, naming conventions are pragmatic. Most citizens bear a personal name and a family or occupational surname: _Velira Anstrad_, _Merkan Toll_, _Sella of the Chain_. In merchant circles, surnames often denote trade affiliation or guild heritage. Some names are taken, not given—especially among mercenaries and outlaws who shed old titles like dead skin. In [[Varneth]] and [[Lysmar]], aliases are common, with many carrying multiple names depending on the street, the client, or the debt.

Urban naming also reflects the polyglot nature of city life. Among harborfolk, it is not unusual to hear a Drestali name with a Kyourin suffix, or a Mentralian moniker spoken with Lao-Shani tone. Children of mixed heritage may carry names from both traditions, or entirely new coinages blending sound and meaning.

In the west, tribal names follow older, deeper traditions. Every child is given a **birth-name** upon first breath—usually simple and nature-bound: _Ash-Cub_, _Storm-Sprig_, _Frost-Born_. This name is temporary. A new name is earned through deed: slaying a beast, surviving a blizzard, binding a spirit, or losing something precious. These earned names become the identity carried through life—_Red Howl_, _Stone-Eater_, _Silent Watch_—and are often recited with pride, especially in introductions.

Some tribes practice **layered naming**, with three names:

- A **common name** used in daily life
- A **kin-name** shared only with family or clanmates
- A **spirit-name**, whispered in ritual and never spoken aloud

To know all three names of a person is an act of deep intimacy—or dangerous power.

Among the **Daughters of the Wolf**, names are relinquished entirely upon initiation. Each woman receives a **pack-name** from the Old Wolf in dream or trance, often in blood rites beneath the moon. These names—_Moonfang_, _She Who Hunts Alone_, _Throat-Taker_—are sacred and unrecorded. To speak one aloud is to invite the spirit's gaze.

Across the Reaches, names are fluid, storied, and sometimes fatal. A name may open a door, seal a contract, or mark a death sentence. In a land without crowns, a name is often the closest thing to legacy.

## Other Notable Factions or Organizations
Though the Reaches are a land without a central crown, power takes many forms - and many masks. Beneath the banners of city-states and tribal warbands, more subtle forces move in shadow and song, in blood and gold.

Within the Free Cities, the underworld has its own crown - the *[[Crimson Ring]]* . Neither guild nor cult, the Ring is a network of smugglers, cutthroats, and informants that stretches from tavern cellars to merchant halls. Identified only by a red loop worn discreetly, its members ferry contraband, secrets, and poisons with equal precision. Some whisper that entire city councils have danced to the Ring’s silent tune - and that a merchant prince or two has paid dearly for failing to.

On the fringes of civilization, in vine-wrapped ruins and echoing vaults, move the *[[Spiritbinders of Thalavor]]*. Scholars, warlocks, or madmen - it depends on whom you ask - they delve into the broken heart of the ancient city, seeking to revive or control the relic machines of a forgotten age. What they unearth is as dangerous as it is wondrous, and more than one rival faction has vanished into the metal-buried depths.

And whispered of in smoke-filled parlors and sealed council chambers is the *[[Council of the Sable Veil]]*. Whether myth or truth, they are blamed for the inexplicable: trade collapses, sudden deaths, vanishing heirs. No faces, no banners, only influence - and a chilling silence in their wake. If they exist, they are the true architects of power in the Reaches. Few know whether the council truly exists, but the deaths it’s blamed for are all too real.

## Myths, Mysteries & Wondrous Places
The Reaches are a land stitched with silence and secrets - where old powers sleep beneath mossy stone and half-buried truths breathe through cracked ruin walls.

**The Hollow Tree of Sirellin Vale** is whispered to be a wound left in the world from the Shattering itself. The tree bleeds sap as black as night, and none who drink of it die the same. Some return with glowing eyes and fevered tongues. Others don’t return at all.

In the **Weeping Fens** near the Danals delta, stone faces half-sunken in mud whisper during storms. Scholars suspect they are relics of a forgotten Tul-Dar shrine, while locals insist they weep for the gods that failed. Either way, no fire stays lit there after nightfall.

**Blackglass Point**, a cliff of obsidian overlooking the [[Western Ocean]] from one of the ridges of the [[Shatar Mountains]], hums with eerie resonance during eclipses. It is said to be cursed or sacred depending on who is asked, and some believe it marks the resting place of a starfallen relic still pulsing with cosmic power.

The ruins of **Thalavor**, an ancient mago-technical city of the age before [[The Shattering]], choked by ivy and rust, still thrum with dormant machinery. Gears the size of houses lie half-buried in hillocks, and strange lights flicker in the deep chambers beneath. The _Brazen Fangs_ once sealed part of the site after several members disappeared without a trace.

Among the tribes, stories speak of the **Moon-Bound Stag**, a radiant white beast with antlers of silver flame. To see it is either a blessing or a death omen. Several clans believe its appearance heralds great change - or great bloodshed.

And all across the Reaches, from moss-covered barrows to bone-strewn valleys, rumors persist of _[[The Hollowed|hollow men]]_ - spirit-emptied husks that walk at dusk, drawn to old battlefields and cursed soil.

It is said that in the Reaches, wonder and horror walk the same path. All one can do is listen for the silence between the wind, and decide if it whispers welcome - or warning.