Beastlands

Littfeld
Roll with the Punches

Allemance


The caravan has rolled through pleasant weather for days. Judging by the blue sky and the soft breeze rolling across the hills ahead? Today will be just the same. You can hear distant laughter shouted by a gaggle of wolf pups playing in the field. The noonday sun warms your face, and the smell of pine and clean soil fills your nostrils. Welcome to Allemance.

The Lupine Kingdom of Allemance (ALLaymahnse or ALLehmanse) is the Beastlands’s green heart. Its plains are framed by mountains: the northern Mantle and the southern Bêtemère. These peaks have blessed the homeland with verdant pastures in a wide river basin. In the northeast, birches and elms cast gentle shade on the region of Glasrún for hundreds of miles.

Beasts know Allemance for its open vastness. Its domain covers a third of the Beastlands, around 360,000 square miles. Arneria’s Beylik and Bat’yan rival it in size, but the reason for the kingdom’s reputation is obvious when one stands at the Louvain Peninsula’s edge and takes in the pastoral expanse of farmland on the horizon.

The Allemagnian (or “Alley”) north has mild summers and long autumns, while the wineries in the south enjoy warm days well into October. Most towns see snow at least once a season, and occasional squalls drop on Alley northerners.

Almost 7 and a quarter million people reside in Allemance. Equines favor its open space and find peaceful work on angus farmlands. Bovine farmers live on fields and ranches passed down through countless generations. Canines, and principally wolves, are Allemance’s most common species. A wolf queen sits on its throne in the capital city of Louvain and they also make up most of its nobility.

Fertility of Green Hills
Under the green grass, black soil teems with nutrients. Forgiving winters and a gentle rainy season have made Allemance the breadbasket of the Beastlands. Life is uncomplicated for the Alley people, and feeding the world has won Allemance’s nobility generational wealth.

The Alley diet is a diverse blend of milk, meat, grain, and vegetables. In the north, Allemagnian wheat fields sway in the breeze from the road’s edge out over the horizon. The barons of the southern hills tend rolling vineyards. Their sweet wine is served at the most distant caravanserai dinner parties.

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Pastoral Homesteads
Allemance’s farming villages are the gems in Queen Sophia’s crown. Each of these settlements is made up of a few families of equines, bovines, and anyone else looking for a life of crisp air and honest work. Any route through Allemance passes through dozens of tiny circles of farmhouses, each with a stone bethel standing in the center.

The Alley farm village is an ancient, enduring thing; residents work the same plot of farmland their ancestors did. During the sowing season, visiting equines help till the fields and prepare the crops in exchange for room and board. In autumn, another family traveling through helps with the harvest. The wandering horses are familiar faces year after year, a part of each community to which they lend their work. Life moves at the pace of rising corn stalks. Young lovers become old grandparents. Generations pass with the same families as neighbors.

A cooperative spirit prevails in rural Allemance, but a rumor spreads and lingers. A broken-hearted teenager or slighted matriarch can ignite a feud that lasts decades. Small town politicians wear humbler clothes, but their web of intrigue is just as intricate as in any royal parlor.

Villages might be a full day’s ride from their nearest neighbor, but they’re far from isolated. An Alley farmer knows every village thirty miles in any direction, and the names of each family in them. The Dungeon’s monsters and supernatural dangers become more frequent every season, so this web of small town familiarity has become a crucial network of support.}}

Children of a Blessed Land
Whether planning a journey or weighing the risks of a decision, Allemagnians typically believe things will work out for the best. More cynical Alleys demonstrate this as pride or self-assured pessimism. However, most are quick to remind another that gloomy weather can’t last forever.

Allemagnians value relationships above anything else. An ambitious Alley is looking to win friends and lovers, and good company is its own prosperity. This culture is the ideal climate for politics. Barons and farmers alike love to play games of intrigue for friends and favors.

Polychronic
Allemance is a polychronic culture. Alleys work on several tasks at the same time, fluidly transitioning between them. A polychronic sense of time is based on where someone is and who they’re with. Where someone else might arrange an appointment for 10:30 AM, an Allemagnian proposes meeting “a little after lunch.” If one of them finishes lunch early, they socialize while they wait for the other. A polychronic mindset focuses on moment-to-moment priorities instead of durations, appointments, and schedules. Work, socializing, and family intermingle throughout one’s day.

The flow of Allemagnian life can be hard for an outsider to understand. The strict orderliness of Causeway Arnerians and Vinyotian focus clash with an Allemagnian’s loose schedule. One might think an Allemagnian is lazy or absentminded, but it’s only a different rhythm—a winding path to the same destination.

It Takes a Village
Allemagnians share life deeply with those around them. The barriers of exclusive family and partnership seem lonelyto most Allemagnians. If raising children is the sole responsibility of their parents, an Alley laments their missed opportunity to learn from living with their neighbors.

Allemagnians don’t separate their public and private lives. Polyamory runs deep in both rural and urban society; an Alley might be openly romantic with multiple companions at once. Marriage is a lifelong commitment, but it isn’t considered a declaration of love for only one person. The freedom and honesty of loving whoever one chooses is recognized over the security that comes from mutual partnership.

Most Alley children live in the homes of their parents’ closest friends as much as their own. They are cared for, educated, and disciplined by all of the adults in their lives. Alley delvers returning home are given a homecoming by all of their childhood guardians, whether parents or longtime neighbors. In Allemance, family and community blend together.

This collective stewardship and polyamorous life is common among all Allemagnians, with a notable exception: the nobility. While the notion of “owning” one’s children and spouse is an alien concept to a commoner, it is crucial to Allemance’s feudal structure. Alley nobles are exclusive to a single spouse, and the union often grants their family some political advantage.

The Simmers
When the fields are all sown, Allemance’s people spring to life. In the summer months, equine farmhands set off to roam through vast fields of wildflowers, while young city celerines chatter in large groups in the bright sun. Fathers bring their sons along on journeys to neighboring towns, just for the sake of the walk. The Beast World’s most cherished art and music is composed in loft studios during balmy Alley summers. Every subject of the realm sees these long, hot days as a chance to grow themselves alongside their fields.

The restlessness of midsummer boils over after dusk. On some summer nights, stars cascade across the sky like glittering silk in the blue expanse. On others, rain clouds billow across Allemance and pull a blanket of rain over the evening. People revel in heat and moonlight regardless of the weather. The music of late-night parties pours out of barn doors and city dance halls alike.

Many Allemagnians describe the urge to erupt in activity during summer as “the simmers.” Foreigners aren’t excluded either—anyone is liable to be pulled into the whirlwind of summer nightlife. Travelers keen to celebrate take every opportunity when spending July in Allemance. Others pay a premium to sleep safely away from the tyranny of extroverts.

The Lupine Throne
Allemance is a feudal monarchy with matrilineal primogeniture, meaning the eldest daughter inherits the throne. The current queen is the unmarried Sophia Andolesia VI, who sits on the Lupine Throne in Louvain. Sophia is a popular monarch who earned the love of her people fighting in the Invader War fifteen years ago. Before her coronation, Sophia put her monastic training to use on the front lines of the battlefield. After the war, Allemagnians remembered her personal devotion. Her ascension was met with fanfare throughout her domain. Today she holds the most loyal court in generations

Over time, the kingdom has consolidated what was once a complex web of feudal liege lords. Today, only the knights in her service and the barons and baronesses of her domain sit in Sophia’s court. Each baron oversees their own smaller court of mayors, who govern individual towns and villages. Knights appointed by Sophia serve at her direct pleasure and command the military levies raised by barons from their own holdings.

Sophia is a benevolent ruler, but the lords of Allemance are unpredictable. Conniving lords used the work from a brethren population explosion to line their own pockets. They hide their overworked serfs from the eyes of the Crown, as well as the discerning gaze of the goddess Dramphine’s justice. The Queen’s popularity and some barons’ cruelty provokes a friction in the lower class that grows by the day.

Royal Coffers
Nobles own almost everything. Families live on the same land for centuries, with lineage and traditions older than the throne itself. Yet, they have only tilled the earth throughout this history when the lord renting the land to them permits it. The barons of Allemance centralize wealth within their domains, and the queen centralizes it into the royal coffers. Allemance is the richest domain in the Beast World, thus Sophia is the richest beast.

Throughout Allemance’s history, the nobility has performed an ongoing balancing act for commoners. They keep taxes low, and a relaxed workload placates the peasants. In return, the serfdom stays willfully ignorant to their machinations. Life in Allemance is easy, so there’s no need to worry about power for now.

== Glasrún (Allemance) ==

The forest covering most of northeastern Allemance is known as Glasrún (GLAZ-rune). While a part of the royal domain, it exists without noble oversight or intervention. This independence is a centuries-old agreement between its people and the noble family who once laid claim over it.

When the Glasrún Pact was created in 367, not even a footpath broke the dense treeline. Frustrated by what he saw as worthless land, Baron Gocaire the First sought a way to rid himself of its tax burden without embarrassing his family in the eyes of the queen. He relinquished everything north of the river to any willing settler, while abdicating his responsibility to it. Meanwhile, he named the border the “Queensriver,” and gave other bodies of water similarly ostentatious titles in his sovereign’s honor. The Gocaire family claims the land in the Alley court to this day, but they continue to honor the Glasrún Pact.

The Free Allemagnians
Glasrún has flourished in the thousand years since the pact. Its original settlers took pride in their wild new home. They built cities in its forest and ports on its shore. They kindled a distinct culture with hard work and love shared through it. Their tenacity drove a trade road once thought impossible from their former barony to this new sovereignty

Alley culture still influences Glasrún’s people. Today, most of them call themselves Allemagnian (albeit with a wink), but more people speak Glasrúnish than Old Allemagnian, as most of the kingdom has forgotten the latter tongue in favor of Common. These two Allemances maintain a cordial relationship.

But royal wolves keep a watchful eye on the treeline.

Céilí
The Glasrúnish céilí (KAYlee) is a festival unique to the region, held whenever the town throwing the party chooses (about once every three months). Céilís are an evening social gathering in which a town and its neighboring communities fill any building large enough to hold them. Some are centered on an occasion, such as a birthday or coming-of-age party, but anyone willing to organize one can call it on a whim.

Dancing and the céilí go hand-in-hand. The beasts and brethren in attendance line up, then a “caller” describes an easy dance they’ll perform. Musicians and singers perform throughout the dance, which lasts long into the night. Outside, attendees tell stories and recite poetry.

Throughout the céilí, everyone drinks wine and eats food they’ve brought to share. Local cooking enthusiasts use the crowd as eager judges of their best recipes, and brag about their skills. Wine is much the same; pairs of amateur winemakers sometimes compete by insisting that attendees compare generous servings of their best vintages.

Such céilís are either disasters or the best ones in history. It depends on who you ask.

Pirhouanism in Allemance
The Alley bethel is always open for someone seeking a friend’s company. A bethel is the largest building in a small town, and it serves as a religious center, hospital, community gathering place, and emergency shelter. The structure itself is also often a windmill or communal oven. Urban bethels demarcate a neighborhood for taxes and serve as a government building as well.

The bethel is where children learn reading and mathematics, and where elders play raucous parlor games (when they aren’t gossiping about anyone who isn’t present). The bethelkeeper oversees all this, offering guidance, laughter, and support.

In Allemance, Pirhoua is the goddess of life, love, and the harvest. Alley clerics are the gentlest of any sect, serving as a bedrock of peace in a delving crew. They take playful advantage of their chaste, stuffy-clothed reputation. They play pranks and love to laugh at shocked reactions to a bawdy joke or cheeky gesture. Alley Pirhouans believe that gratitude for the gift of willfulness is best paid by living a big, joyful, colorful life.

The Delve in Allemance
There is absolutely no understating it: Allemagnians love the Delve. They love the clothes. They love the stories. They love the danger. Alley commoners are fascinated by the idea of self-made warriors wandering the countryside, helping those in need. When the Dungeon appears near a city, you might pick Alleys out of the crowd by looking for anyone trying to look concerned while hiding an excited smile.

Unfortunately, the Dungeon is also common in the homeland. Allemance has everything it needs to flourish: towns large enough to spread the word, but not so large that it means an all-out monster war. It appears in Bêtemère mountain caves, in soil burrows in the hills, and underneath the homes of unlucky urban Alleys.

Ruins from the Mantle War are scattered throughout northern Allemance. The Dungeon often transforms collapsed fortresses and old lookout posts into sprawling underground mazes made of the same masonry. The other proper “dungeons” are those carefully attracted by vampires, who seem to benefit somehow from having a labyrinth underneath their forgotten castles. Perhaps these demonic servants know something about the Dungeon that others don’t.

The Astral Shadow
In this region, the Astral Sea bleeds into the Beast World. Afterimages of Astral emptiness drift by in the night sky, just as the Beast World does on the other side. Bats can grab this astra out of the air and make objects real, if only for a while.

Astralcraft is possible in the Astral Shadows. The rules for creating objects are the same, except that objects can only be created after midnight, and disappear at dawn.

Baritte
The barony capital of Baritte (barEET) is a bustling river port surrounded by picturesque vineyard hills. It enjoys cool summers from the Bêtemère mountains to the west. Wineries and farms from around the region ship their goods into the capital to be carried south into Vinyot, and passenger boats offer inexpensive passage to the coast.

The city’s harbor sits in the shade of Castle Baritte. The Quest River diverts into a port underneath the keep, and a well-guarded market within the castle courtyard allows expensive jewelry and magical wares to be sold without fear of highjacking during transport.

Barraille
A city stands on a clifftop in the mountains of Glasrún, where miners supply the free people of Allemance with ore. Barraille (BARall) has grown beyond the cliff’s edge, and elevators large enough to lift three delver wagonsfacilitate travel through the canopy. From the Upper District, one can gaze out over the dense forest Glasrún is known for. The city’s back road splits into a web of mining paths into the Mantle mountains.

Mountains surround the most remote city in Glasrún. Its insular people take great pride in taming the severe peaks. Even for Glasrúnish, the beasts and brethren of Barraille have an intense disgust for anyone “whose blood smells noble.”

Bristle Inn
A sign points toward a mansion that has been rebuilt a dozen times: “Hospitality Begins Here.” The Bristle Inn is near the subterranean source of the Warm River. Historians believe it is the oldest business in the Beast World, serving guests for over 1,100 years. Natural hot springs dwell underneath the inn. A shelf behind the reception desk holds a dozen books preserved with careful magic, containing the signatures of guests from centuries past.

Crystal Plinth
A network of winding crystal caverns runs through the base of the Quarreling Peaks, which have become a nesting ground for the Dungeon. Crystal Plinth was one of the largest ligonine settlements in the world until recently. The frequent dangers of invading subterranean monsters have forced the inhabitants out of their homes through their subterranean Loamlink. The ligonines’ abandoned possessions still fill the deserted city, but treasure usually remains unlooted for a good reason…

Daltiarna
Daltiarna (dalTEERna), the Jewel of the Free People, is the unofficial capital of Glasrún. This immense city of 30,000 spreads further in every direction each year. The streets wind throughout Glasrún’s shady forest, all of it veiled by the leaves overhead.

A mix of every species populates the city. Families who have been Daltiarnan for centuries live among first-generation immigrants from every homeland. The only condition for someone to move into the city is finding a district willing to speak for them. Once accepted, the city expects that district to help them construct a home and find work.

Daltiarna has no central authority. Each district is self-governed, bringing major proposals to neighbors so they have a say in matters that might affect them. The residents in each district choose a Speaker who has the final call when controversy arises. They hold the position until another candidate nominates themselves. Daltiarna has a thriving political culture that enforces an unwritten maximum term of two years for any Speaker. Debates can rage for days.

Brethren are unusually common in Daltiarna. Entire districts have formed from transplanted residents of Broken World settlements. After the Pilgrimage, the promise of independence drew many humans to the city, and Daltiarna was eager to pull as many brethren away from noble rule as possible. Life in Glasrún’s woods is difficult, but a breezy prospect compared to the struggle of living in the bizarre wasteland of the Broken World.

Dearmad
Glasrún’s sunny coastal plains are where Dearmad (DARmud) rests. Dearmad’s title, the “Forgotten City,” is an old Glasrúnish joke; when Baron Gocaire the First gave up Glasrún, he was unaware of the idyllic land on which the city now stands. The farms of Dearmad are some of the most fertile in the world. Exports feed the free Allemagnians throughout the forest.

The Dearmad people are ideological opposites of their neighbors in Barraille. Pacifism runs strong in the city, and the live-and-let-live attitude of Dearmad tempers the revolutionary ambitions of some leaders in Daltiarna. War is recent in everyone’s mind, and few are eager to take up arms against their fellow beasts and brethren. This is as true in Glasrún as anywhere else.

Dearmad is the only urban community in the Beast World with a close relationship with druids. Their gentle treatment of the land surrounding the city attracted the curiosity of its steward druids. Dearmad farms use magic and inventive agriculture to feed thousands without harming the tilled earth. Delver caravans would be impossible without the efficiency lessons learned by the city.

Dole
In the game of placating Alley commoners, Dole plays with a riskier strategy than most. Lady Briere is a cruel and impatient baroness who is swift to punish habits in the populace that she deems unsavory. Taxes are harsh in the Dole barony, and reinvestment is a superficial afterthought to keep visiting lords from seeing the true nature of conditions in the lands beyond the Baroness’ home.

The capital of Dole is a gleaming city on a hill. Every stone in the street looks as if it were plucked from a river last week. Its laughing people wear colorful clothing, and they scrub the facade of every building spotless on the first of every month. On the hilltop, Lady Briere oversees the barony from the halls of Dole Manor. People in the city often say, “The Lady waits an extra day to dust the Manor, lest Her Majesty become envious of its glimmer.”

Domeall
The trade road through Glasrún terminates at the northernmost city in Allemance: the port of Domeall (DOMull). It moves Oric goods into the region, and the city is Glasrún’s center of economic and foreign affairs. Domeall’s free people know their independence is only because the Glasrún Pact would cost too much for the queen to break. To keep it that way, Domeall’s naval force is the largest in Allemance.

Oria and Allemance have never been close allies since the Mantle War a century and a half ago, but Glasrún is an exception. Orians have never forgotten that the free people stayed neutral during that conflict, and Oric friendship with these “Forest Wolves” has endured through generations of elk.

In Domeall, Alley and Oric cultures collide. The buildings bear an undeniable resemblance to the scale of a lodge house. Oric cuisine is also popular, and some Glasrúnish wolves even wear wraps in their long hair that resemble the antler decorations of elk hunters.

Fort Kingsfang
The Crown Guard trains new recruits within the ramparts of Fort Kingsfang. A stone wall runs east to west for 15 miles in either direction, with the military base constructed behind its center. This wall was once a landmark denoting the Alley-Oric border, and the fort was the site of a major battle during the Mantle War.

Today, it is still used to instruct young commoners from the surrounding baronies. Lords send teenage Alley wolves to Kingsfang to learn basic martial discipline, in case the need for their service arises. The years following the Invader War have seen renewed attention paid to training commoners in the art of war.

Gentlerock Rapids
The Gentlerock River becomes one perilous whitewater after another on this 20-mile stretch. A sharp bend at the end empties into a whirlpool named the Eye of Darkness. An expedition of explorers mapping Allemance in the early days of the Beast World was completely swallowed by this whirlpool. None of the crew survived. The ghosts created by their deaths still lurk in the Netherworld, wailing their story to all who approach the vortex.

Gocaire
The border city of Gocaire is several miles from the Queensriver that separates Allemance from Glasrún. For centuries, the city’s claim to notoriety was the first baron’s abandonment of the forest lands. However, in recent years the simple barony capital has gained renown as the hometown of the first delving crew. Hoping to change the barony’s fortunes, its nobles have declared that delvers are to be given a special welcome whenever they enter the city. Discounts at local businesses and other preferential treatment have attracted delvers from Allemance and beyond, but not all the locals are fond of the rough visitors their nobility has imposed on them.

Goldentide
This city was once an informal association of two dozen tiny farming towns. When the villages could be considered nothing but a single entity, the prior queen of Allemance incorporated it into the Barony of Goldentide. Vast fields of grain are the barony’s namesake, as well as the pride of its commerce and culture. It is the smallest of the Alley baronies, but they wear the yellow and gold of its crest with the fiercest pride.

Isle of Brass and Bronze
A large island in Giant’s Foot Bay is the formal property of brass and bronze dragons, but it is the home of other metallic dragons as well. It’s rare for metallics to claim land outright, as they normally prefer secluded lairs.

The isle is a neutral but protected meeting ground for good dragons. They commune with politicians and dignitaries from everywhere in the world from its citadels. The dragons offer aid when possible, and keep apprised of the affairs of beasts and brethren. Delvers seeking an audience with metallic dragons often travel to a lair on this island. A draconic calling is an honor for benevolent delvers. It’s a sign of immense peril for evil ones.

Lake Reineblast
Reineblest is one of the largest lakes in Allemance. The Dungeon often warps the rocky soil at its bottom and waterborne monsters have become a common threat for the lake towns. This danger has ignited a fierce debate among the villages that grows more urgent every year. Some want to move away from the lake, while others are unwilling to abandon the land of their ancestors.

Soon, this schism will be an even bigger concern than the sahuagin attacking fishermen.

Madroileán
The Isle of Dogs Madroileán (MADrullahn) is the largest island in Glasrún. Several fishing towns and villages circle its shores, all of them sharing both the island’s name and the farmland in its center. Fishing is a lucrative industry, but life on the Isle of Dogs is also a unique challenge.

Weird things happen in Madroileán. The monsters and mayhem of the Dungeon are just everyday life to its residents. After all, its fishers have been dealing with Dungeon-flavored strangeness all their lives; the stories are as old as the region itself. Villagers on the island are armed at all times, and by the time one reaches the age of twenty, they’ve usually had an experience fighting a monster or disarming the traps set by one.

Some cosmologists theorize Madroileán is the site of a miniature Dungeon of its own. Others attribute the oddities to some quirk of the Arcana, a necessary outlet for its unpredictability. Conspiracy theorists, especially in Barraille, believe that the royals of Allemance are terrorizing the island with secret magic.

Whatever the case, every day on Madroileán is interesting, and its people seem to like it that way.

Mansque
The imposing 500-foot tower at the center of this barony capital dominates the horizon for miles. Some have even claimed they can see the Tower of Mansque from the Louvain peninsula hundreds of miles away. The tower is a repository of arcane theses kept by Baron Mansque IX. His family has studied wizardry for centuries, gathering rare magic tomes onto the dizzying stacks of bookshelves in their home.

The family’s fascination with magic has influenced the capital city as well. Residents of Mansque dabble in arcane study to curry favor with their lord. Most commoners in the city can perform a cantrip or two, but stop before diving deeper into wizardry. Their shallow brush with magic is the reason for the nickname “Mansque Mage,” describing an arcane university washout.

Molemill Well
The Loamlink runs throughout the Beast World and allows ligonines to travel between their underground settlements far beneath the world of most other species. Molemill Well is a major connection between the Loamlink and the world above.

The well is over 70 feet across, with a 20-foot wide staircase running along its round outer wall. It’s the largest Loamlink connection in Allemance and a small ligonine town surrounds the entrance on the surface. Travelers seeking a guide through the tunnels start their search here.

Meadow of Monsters
Arcanists studying the Dungeon would be remiss not to visit the Meadow of Monsters in southern Allemance. This unsettled region of the homeland has become a peculiar gathering place for nonviolent monsters from within the depths of the Dungeon. No one knows why the location has attracted “leftover” creatures from conquered labyrinths. While many of them are intelligent, none can explain the phenomenon.

Riverbed City
The Teplo river once flowed south through the basin where Riverbed City now stands. Two hundred years ago, a rock from the sky crashed into the Mantle. The resulting quake redirected the flow of the mountain streams feeding it. The river switched directions and left the ravine behind.

The north edge of Riverbed City is on the Oric border. Orians traveling home from Allemance purchase riverboats from the city to take north. Sailing the Teplo is the best way to get back before winter descends on the north. The boats of Riverbed City are considered the finest freshwater vessels, and inland shipwrights often apprentice there to learn the craft.

Shepherd's Island
The island in the center of Giant’s Foot Bay has a population of one nameless ovine druid and an uncountable number of wild, quiet-minded sheep. They wander their island paradise to munch on a diverse buffet of greenery. The island’s druidic overseer sends animal messengers to find new plants for the flock to sample, tending to it like an immense garden. Well-meaning visitors are welcome on its shore, but the druid has decisivelyrebuffed attempts to settle the island for decades.

Silette
Mages live in every city, with exactly one exception. A hiccup in the Arcana silences magic in and around the city of Silette. Even a cleric or warlock’s magic cannot manifest within this dead zone.

As one might predict, Silette is a down-to-earth city. Its people take unusual pride in earning the rewards that come with honest work. People from Silette consider curiosity about magic to be frivolous or even reckless. Perhaps as a side effect, the Dungeon has never appeared in the city. Visiting delvers might receive hushed requests for stories about their exploits.

Sourisport
The Causeway’s west end, Sourisport’s vibe is both Arnerian and Allemagnian. The Causeway bridge disappears over the horizon past Sourisport’s shore to cross the Strait of Glass. While the city has a larger Arnerian population than anywhere else in the homeland, Sourisport’s Alley identity is almost exaggerated. Its energy is like a slap on the back and invitation to come on in.

The bridge across the Strait of Glass is a kind of moral elastic band, pulled taut by the expectations of life in Arneria. That band snaps here. The first Alley city a newcomer sees is a den of sin; if it’s bad for you, it’s available along the docks of Sourisport.

Symphony Canyon
Three rivers flow into this canyon, converging at a trio of waterfalls. When someone rows out to the middle of this confluence, they can hear the Universal Symphony within the veils of water crashing down. This moment of absolute immersion inspires many to learn the bardic arts. The Bardic Evermeet is a college on the cliff’s overlook where students have followed this inspiration for centuries.

Uriah's Wood
The elder sorcerer Uriah lives somewhere within the forest at the base of the Western Cradle. Its exact location is uncertain, but there are those who swear they’ve been invited into his bizarre mansion.

Uriah’s Wood attracts beasts with broken hearts, nervous minds, and weary souls. They believe the sorcerer has some magic that can return a beast to their quiet-minded animal self for a short period of time. Allegedly, this transformation brings clarity and purpose to someone troubled by the world. Indeed, some who venture into the woods return changed by the experience, but no one remembers exactly what happens once they step past the threshold of the sorcerer’s home.

Verglas
Surrounded by the highest peaks of the Bêtemère Mountains is a plateau of year-round snow. The remote village of Verglas is home to a secluded conclave of snow cats whose oral history tells that they were uplifted separately from Al’ari felines. Precious few Verglas snow cats ever leave this hidden place, and the treacherous mountain walls keep most visitors away.

Wingsmeet
The village of Wingsmeet sits between two high cliffs of the Bêtemère Mountains. The grasslands surrounding the village are a golden sea of sunflowers and fence posts drilled with hollow spaces. Keeping this immense field is an important tradition in Wingsmeet. Thousands of wild birds fly over the village and funnel through the pass during their migration south every autumn. They fertilize the crop fields of Wingsmeet’s barony as they make their natural journey. Twice a year, the village sits idle for a week to thank the flocks while they sleep in the fenceposts on their way through.

Louvain
The road to Louvain climbs the stark cliff of a peninsula overlooking Allemance. The city stands at the cliff’s edge, and at the world’s center. People of every species live and work on its crowded streets, plying their craft in stylish boutiques and open-air bazaars. At the precipice, Louvain Palace is a towering symbol of the monarchy’s enduring legacy.

Celereine Fashion Houses
The city of Louvain is the epicenter of chic fashion and design. Upscale neighborhoods surrounding the palace glitter with celerine-run boutiques and studios. They display this season’s daring new look in their front windows. Electric colors and otherworldly patterns characterize the Louvain look, inspired by garments worn by the brethren when they appeared from the Broken World. Even in the lower-class outer districts, people make a living designing affordable outfits that sport these aesthetics.

Fascination with the Dungeon and its delvers has inspired some of the latest looks. These days, any Louvain fashion show features an ostentatious take on a practical adventurer’s outfit. More experimental designs even evoke the anatomy and movement of the monsters below.

Library of the Gate
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Night District
When the Bull’s Eye spins out of the sky and the Pale Lantern rises, the Night District of Louvain saunters out to dance in moonlight. Every traveler has their own story about carousing in the dance halls and lounges of Allemance’s capital. The heart of the district blazes with the light of Soda Lamps, an alchemical marvel invented in a subterranean Louvain laboratory.

The Night District is happy to meet the needs of delver caravans (particularly the “fat-pursed hunks” who ride in them, as they’re called by the dancing girls of the Two Pillows Inn). Unique attractions and shady delights abound in the gaudy, bawdy parlors of the Night District. Its back alley swap shops offer illegal goods and the services of organized crime, if a crew can pay the price.

Questionable morals and fake smiles aren’t everything in the Night District. Bards who aspire to fame get their start here. One might stumble into a third-floor bar expecting a watered-down beer and a con man fast-talking in their face, and instead find a musician performing a one-night show pouring out their soul in a life-changing performance.

Louvain Palace
The Palace of the Lupine Throne is a monument to the Allemagnian monarchy that overlooks the domain from the peninsula. The Crown Guard patrols the outer ramparts to keep the nobility sheltered from threats. Fruit trees blossom in its outer grove, which the Queen offers freely to her subjects every summer. Newlyweds from the farthest reaches of Her Majesty’s domain visit the gardens surrounding the grove; a kiss shared within brings good fortune and lasting love.

The Queen’s keep is past the gate, where the Alley nobility sets policy and decides the course of the kingdom. Tall stained-glass windows depict past monarchs with eyes trained down on subjects walking the halls.

On the third Saturday of each month, Queen Sophia holds open court in the Moonpool Sanctum. Her throne sits high in this open-air garden, and petitioners wait in a gallery along the wall. When called, they cross a stone footbridge to a tiny island in the center of a pond to make their petition to the monarch Herself.}}

Veteran Union
Eavesdroppers in Louvain inevitably hear the Veteran Union mentioned in conversation. The Thieves’ Army operates more openly in Louvain than in most other cities. Any member of the public can find them by walking straight into the Veteran Union building. The Thieves’ Army claims to serve the city’s people, but one might wonder if petitioners end up serving them, instead.

Olive Quaronette’s Tea House
The tall window of this lavish tea house is etched with adepiction of the rabbit fashionista Olive Quaronette. The shutters and roof shingles are painted white with a faint blush of pink. To announce your presence when the door swings open, a piston blows a serene tone through a wooden pipe while chimes ring a quiet melody. The tea house patrons dress in that particular way, as if they spent several hours before dawn to reach perfect stylish nonchalance. A young rabbit scratches in a sketchbook in one corner. His golden hair hides one eye, and his sweater has Broken World script across the chest. Elsewhere, a trio of wolves chatter in hushed conversation at a table in the middle of the room.

Who's Here

Twisted Whiskers
The Night District of Louvain is lousy with burlesque parlors just like Twisted Whiskers; there are two others are in the same back alley. This particular parlor has two things the others don’t: a draconic proprietor, and a first-two-free drinks special for delvers.

You walk through a heavy black door inlaid with swirls of gold leaf. Soda lamps along the bottom of the wall fill the smoky establishment with lurid red light. A few rows of seats surround a stage past the crowded bar. Most of them are already full, but there are enough left for you to watch the show. Just as the bouncer stops you for the 1 silver door fee, the crowd quiets down.

A dark green terror steps onto the stage. He is eight feet tall and built to kill. The dragon’s eyes are narrow and his face is twisted into a murderous scowl. Despite his expression, this chromatic monster’s voice is calm and inviting. “Welcome to Twisted Whiskers, my friends. Please take your seats, as the show will begin in five minutes.”

Who's Here
 * Not elegible for free drink special

Patrie
Neat rows of terrace coffee farms surround the road into the valley. The stones in the road are new, especially compared to the well-loved trade routes they branch from. The city ahead is like a great wheel, with each of its spokes leading to the heart of the teeming urban center. A divine blueprint transformed this Broken World ruin into a home for the brethren.

Doorstep of the Pilgrimage
Twelve years ago, the goddess Pirhoua pulled the last human city in the Broken World from its roots and dropped it into Bluebell Valley. After its arrival, the queen took a parcel of land from each surrounding barony to form a new one: Patrie. Allemance cooperated with the human Shamans to get the city on its feet. Today, it stands as one of the most powerful cities of the Lupine Kingdom.

The Queen of Allemance granted Patrie to an officer who defected from the Invader army, a human named Diana. She was given the title of Baroness and became the first noble-blooded member of the species. To legitimize the claim, Diana married the canine Indigo, a son of a neighboring barony. A gaggle of their precocious coyote and brethren children now roam the grounds of Jacquet Hall.

The city of Patrie has the largest population of humans in the Beast World, a living relic of their former home. While surviving in the Broken World was brutally difficult, brethren work hard to preserve the city to show future generations their origins and history.

Colors of a Dead World
Patrie is governed by twelve wedge-like districts called quartiers, radiating from its center between the main thoroughfares. Each quartier is inhabited by one of the former Broken World communities that settled in Patrie after the Pilgrimage. The concrete of the city’s buildings is painted with loud colors. Banners with wild patterns and unreadable script hang across the streets. Some are even made of material from the Broken World, scavenged and restored.

Louvain adapts the brethren zig-zags of pink and acid green for runways and upscale boutiques, but Patrie’s look is gritty and authentic streetwear fashion. In recent years, the exclusive fashion house Beauté Amère made waves when it moved its main studio from Louvain into Patrie. It now operates from a gleaming, three-story glass building in the city center. A vicious rivalry is brewing between designers in the two cities.

The Old Third
Patrie was once an abandoned metropolis in the Broken World, and it has far more space than was needed to hold the last of humanity. It was a ruin when the brethren gathered inside it for the Pilgrimage, and they’re still growing into it. Maintenance and gradual renewal is overseen by the historians studying the Broken World known as the Shamans.

The empty quartiers of Patrie are quiet and deserted, save for the birds and occasional curious wanderer. Grass and weeds push through cracks in the asphalt road, and concrete walls are an ivy-covered haven for urban wildlife. This section of town makes up about a third of the city, known as The Old Third.

Ruined roadways and fallen walls hinder movement through these neighborhoods. Sinkholes down to disused sewers swallow the street’s old pavement. For the past twelve years, the Shamans have been making their way from building to building, restoring interiors, repairing walls, and smoothing roads.

An offer stands to scavengers traveling to the Broken World. Baroness Diana gives a reward to anyone who brings the city usable building materials. Since its posting, dozens of scavengers have filled The Old Third with steel beams and chunks of gray and black stone. They sit in neat piles for the restoration of damaged buildings.

Portals and Beans
When jackals emerged from the shadows of hidden places to aid the world’s newest kin, most beasts had never seen one. Many considered these tall, otherworldly creatures to be a myth. The effort to establish the city of Patrie was world-shaking, but it wouldn’t have been enough without their alliance. The jackals predicted some problems a metropolis from nowhere might face, and offered two gifts to kickstart its growth: one great, and one small.

The New Brew
The first gift was a seed. The long-lived jackals have a cultural fascination with how plants and animals inherit traits. Through crossbreeding and a little nature magic, jackals created a coffee plant that would thrive in the conditions of Bluebell Valley. When roasted, the beans of this “Bluebell Nip” have a distinctive minty aroma.

Coffee has become a part of the region’s identity. Strange roasteries dot the city, tucked away in alleys, on rooftops, and underground. The immortal and enigmatic jackals tinker with new brewing techniques in these coffee shop laboratories, and they’re the most likely place in Patrie to find one.

The Junction
The jackal’s larger gift brought the world closer to the human city. They used powerful magic to erect the Junction, a black stone ziggurat in its center. Brethren are eager to visit the distant corners of an unfamiliar world, and the Junction gives them a permanent means of instant travel. When the jackals revealed the building’s purpose, they demonstrated a rare moment of levity. The jackal Lyneferti told the humans, “We didn’t trust the Allemagnians to manage the logistics of a Junction, but you humans seem to grasp the concept of punctuality.” (Queen Sophia was not amused.)

A thousand glassy faces shimmer like the inside of a gemstone within the Junction’s yawning interior. Stairways and scaffolds grant access to facets covering every surface, each a portal to its shown location. The surreal sight of the Junction’s interior allows one to view the sands of the Beylik and the frigid peaks of Oria at the same time. Visitors travel through the facets of the Junction day and night.

There are two types of facets in the Junction. Major facets are more affordable to travel through, connecting with stone buildings at populous destinations around the Beast World. The Junction doesn’t lead to anywhere in Al’ar, as the homeland’s people refused the excavation and construction of a reception building. Minor facets are smaller and more numerous. They lead to hundreds of disparate pockets of the world, but their operation is more temperamental and prone to error, so special permission is required to use them.

Travelling through a Facet
Travelers can purchase tickets to travel through the Junction’s major facets. A special delving crew rate covers a wagon and up to five occupants: a one-way ticket is 20 gp, and a round trip costs 30 gp (the return ticket is valid for one month). The price to traverse a minor facet is much higher, starting at 300 gp per traveler. Special permission is required, and most minor facets are too small for a wagon to fit through. One notable minor facet leads directly to Littfeld’s Portal Wagon. Permission to use it can be obtained from the caravan’s chief.

The Dungeon Brigade
Allemance’s Dungeon Brigade is the crown-appointed authority that opposes the Dungeon within its borders. The Brigade has its own scouts and delvers, but its main purpose is protecting the crown’s interests from a big-picture perspective. They track the number of dungeons appearing in Allemance, levy taxes on Alley delvers, and keep a register of the crew and caravan with which they roll.

The Brigade usually hires outside help through scouts, but crews can occasionally sweet-talk one of their members to pay them directly for their aid. After all, when a den of giant centipedes appears in a crowded neighborhood’s sewer, the danger is far more immediate than when it appears in a remote cliffside. When time is of the essence, rules become negotiable.

Brethren scouts and delvers from any homeland eventually get an offer to serve a tour of duty in the Brigade, and those born in Patrie are required to serve for one year at the age of 18. A subject of hot debate is how other Allemance-born humans will serve in noble levies. Twelve years on, the honeymoon is over and humans are seeing more responsibilities as subjects of the crown.

The Light of Self
When no longer clinging desperately to survival, one has an opportunity to stop and breathe. Once given time to themselves, some brethren turned their gaze inward on what it meant to live as men or women in the Broken World. Time and introspection lead these brethren to question their fundamental identities, and to seek the purest way to express themselves. Each left a life behind in that dead world, and their old name died with it.

Some of Aubade’s devout joined these people in a squat little house in the 6th quartier. They formed a new sect called the Light of Self to shout their true selves at the sun and sky. This circle of the Sun Bull’s less ferocious followers help anyone coming to the realization that they’ve been portraying an incorrect self, sometimes since before the Pilgrimage. Some who shed this ill-fitting identity come to express the opposite gender, while others end up somewhere in between.

Lights of Self combine monastic training with transmutation magic, but there’s no requirement to fight as long as one shows commitment to seeking their true self. This tiny group of transgender Aubadians is hard at work developing a new type of magic. This nascent thesis is a combination of self-mastery and Arcana: permanency.

The Stargazer
A hexagonal brick building with the world’s largest spyglass mounted on its roof sits on a quiet hilltop ten miles south of the city. Its precisely-engineered curved mirror is based on the Heaven’s Eye observatory at Broadgate University.

Beasts take the reliable nature of the sky for granted, but for brethren and bats, the stability is still a bizarre novelty. Members of the two species obsessed with Beast World star maps formed the Patrie Stargazer Association, and their quest to record the position of every star in the sky has piqued interest in astronomy among other species as well.

Recently, members of the Association have been bickering over time with the spyglass. A minor schism has split them—half want to use the device to predict the future and channel divination magic, while the other half want to prioritize the creation of accurate star charts for navigation.

Demitassian Revelers
Bluebell Nip is popular, but for this club of connoisseurs, it’s not enough. After a misadventure in a Vinyotian ooze dungeon altered a bag of Bluebell beans, the crew delved for 48 straight hours without pause from the coffee it produced. (Then they slept for three days straight.)

Leaflets with the Revelers’ insignia have appeared on café notice boards in Patrie. In exchange for “mystical rewards of unimaginable majesty and power,” they request a bag of Bluebell Nip subjected to a variety of rare and dangerous Dungeon conditions.

The Leaflet table lists some of their requests.

Junction Gate Hall
The Gate Hall is where Patrie manages transpor�tation. The Hall is like an improvised city square that never closes, servicing hundreds of people as they wait to move through. Incoming vehicles are periodically inspected for contraband by the city guard. Anyone purchasing tickets to travel through the facets receives a wooden badge bearing their teleportation departure time. A tiny, passionate community of transit hobbyists has even begun collecting the badges. Their first convention is as soon as they can sort out their leadership structure.

Merchants bringing goods into the city must declare them with Patrie authorities if they are worth over 100 gp. Incoming delvers must declare any magical luggage, but the power and function of the items remains the delver’s own business. The public safety implications of this policy are a hot topic in the baroness’ hall.

The Plaque and the Door
A marble wall with a counter stands on the building’s south side. Brass bars separate uniformed brethren from travelers declaring unusual incoming goods. A brass plaque on the wall reads: This 30-foot section of marble was excavated from an intact crossworld building in a three-month Shaman expedition. A sealed adamantine door was discovered beyond the wall, but was lost in a crossworld physics shift. Shaman Bodhi is offering a reward for any information leading to the discovery of the door’s location.

Who's Here

The Broken Mirror
This little café is right across from the Junction, designed to look like one of its portals. Small, round parasol tables sit in front of its mirrored wall. Its location allows it to source food for a menu from every Homeland at once.

The walls and ceiling within the café are mirrors cut into harsh-angled facets that reflect patrons on the café’s split levels. Against one wall, a dog woman adorned with platinum chats with a desert fox. A mole sits alone at another table, hunched over to inspect the smooth, gray cube on his plate. It wobbles when he pokes it.

Who's Here

Oria
The icy wind bites at you through four layers of wool. An expanse of gray mountains and white snow frame the aurora’s colorful ripples in the night sky. The lodge house ahead offers the promise of comfort and good company, safe from the mournful wind’s howling. Welcome to Oria. The Mantle’s frigid peaks stretch across the northern horizon of Allemance, a natural border spanning hundreds of miles. The houses of the alpine Beast World lie beyond these imposing cliffs. Harsh winters make for a hard life in the homeland of elk and bears. Comfort requires ingenuity and cooperation, but delvers who brave the snow will see a batko’s silhouette inviting them into the lodge.

Three and a half million beasts and brethren call themselves Orians. It’s a tough place with tougher inhabitants. 240,000 square miles lie north of the Mantle, but much of the terrain is impassable mountains. Only the Oric people have conquered these peaks, even digging a sixty-mile tunnel through the central Grensa mountains.

The Lodge House
Centuries ago, multiple families began living under one roof to conserve firewood and minimize time outside during the colder half of the year. This practice evolved into the lodge house, an entire settlement of northerners contained under a single roof. These structures now stand everywhere in the north as an enduring symbol of its people’s ingenuity and harmony. Some of their walls contain hundreds of Orians. A few contain thousands.

Each lodge house is a tight-knit, independent community with its own identity. Most are self-sufficient, but they send merchants to trade goods that are unique to their region. Their physical size is determined by population; the largest and oldest are meandering collections of additions performed whenever their newlyweds needed a home.

The largest lodge is Oria’s capital city. The Gatehouse of Jegervalt is made of dark wood and stone against the side of Mount Roet and runs deep into the mountain’s tunnels. Jegervalt houses thousands of beasts and brethren within the towers flanking Grensa Tunnel, which connects the two main regions of the homeland.

Stubborn, Mutual Endurance
When winter descends on Oria, the lodge walls are the difference between life and death. Poor harvests, failed hunts, or too little firewood would spell doom for a community. The Oric work ethic is centered on stubborn, inventive survival.

An Orian’s labors must be in harmony: individual with family and family with house. Lodge houses are a marvel of invention and cooperation. Northerners see the ideal home as one where everyone does the job they’re best-suited for, and looks to improve their methods each time.

Other homelands perceive Orians as stoic walls of pragmatism. They have a reputation for being slow to join with outsiders. Most wear their northern identity as a badge of honor, and a few wear it as a sign of superiority. Some call them cold, but all an Orian needs is to figure out where they fit in best.

Oric Social Class
Species plays some part in Oric social order. As the most common beast, cervine elk are the homeland’s symbolic heads. Theirs are the oldest unbroken family lines with the most political power. Oria’s ruler is an elk, and it has been so for major events throughout its history.

While they hold fewer positions, ursines are still the leaders of many lodge houses. Bear families are capable farmers and the ruling elk’s hunting partners. Their sharp memories are a blessing, but some are wary of their love of fierce competition.

Most ligonine moles in the Beast World are members of a lodge house, but they aren’t typically drawn to politics. Instead, their passions dwell beneath the batko’s feet. Moles are sociable and cooperative with fellow northerners. However, the true home of the Oric ligonine is their Loamlink, tunnels connecting Oria and beyond. The network extends south into Allemance and through every homeland, connecting moles with their eastern sloth and armadillo cousins.

Among the less common Oric species, adaptable and cunning rats have also found an esteemed place within the houses of Oria—it helps that they don’t take up much space. In fact, their Oric population rivals bears’. Beasts other than elk and bears rarely become batkos, but stodgy traditionalism is the only thing keeping a sharp, strong minority from leading their house.

The human brethren are latecomers, but the survival skills they brought from their former home drove them up the pecking order. Orians value those who can make a contributions to their house; many previously obscure lodges have also risen in status thanks to the foraging and shelter techniques of the Broken World.

=== Winter Huddle === At the end of autumn, an Orian’s life moves entirely within the walls of the lodge house. A community ushers its livestock inside to survive the cold, and hunters rest after the herds’ migration. They spend these months educating children, researching new agricultural techniques, and creating art. Travel during this period is rare. A winter visitor is usually desperate or a foreigner.

A home in the lodge house is always crowded with extended family eating and working side-by-side. Families sleep huddled together for warmth in a single enormous bed. This tradition sometimes makes for awkward interactions for a traveling Orian. Sleeping close isn’t intimate for them, it’s practical.

Orians have little privacy in winter, but they make the best of it with the other families in their lodge. Oric friendship is a hard-earned bond forged in the trials of survival. Even after years away from home, most northerners would drop everything for a childhood friend. This loyalty makes them ideal leaders of delving crews.

Summerstone
One expression of nature’s magic only exists deep in the heart of northern mountains. Summerstone is a dazzling mineral that shines with the summer sun’s warmth and intensity. Flora thrives in its radiance, which is even bright enough to give brethren a sunburn. Most lodge houses rely on year-round farms and ranches that are only possible with underground sunlight.

The magic of Summerstone is tied to the mountains. It only casts light in its original surroundings; if a chunk is broken off its mountain, it fades forever. Surveyors spend years of work meticulously exposing a vein under a lodge house. The largest Oric communities are built on top of expansive channels shining above miles of underground farms.

Summerstone is sacred to Orians. Basking in its renewing warmth makes the stir-crazy indoor months bearable. Without it, the winters would be freezing and dreary. The stone is also precious for its rarity—some miners search for a decade or more before uncovering a single cluster.

There are extreme penalties in Oria for intentionally destroying Summerstone. The specific punishment is up to the lodge house, but the most shocking violators have faced death sentences for the crime. Crystals snapped from their original stone are profane to Orians and distasteful emblems of waste to everyone else.

Spring Open
When ice breaks in spring, cooped-up Orians burst from their lodge houses. Families while away winter hours making travel plans, then scatter across the mountains when the weather warms. A father teaching his son the hunt sometimes won’t return once before autumn. Farmers sleep in the field, working from morning to dusk preparing for the next harvest.

Oric grandparents joke that babies are born with a need to conquer everything tall in the world by putting it under their feet. Orians climb. In winter, children play in the rafters of their homes, running along the wooden beams. This urge never dies, it only transforms. The young scale trees and up to their own ceilings, while adults scale mountain peaks with the same childlike enthusiasm.

The Oric Mammoth
The largest land animal in the Beast World is the Oric mammoth, a Gargantuan beast 20 feet tall at the shoulder and weighing 30 tons. Its body is covered in long wool that ranges in color from deep chestnut brown to stark white. Other colors have also been observed in the wild, albeit rarely.

A single Oric mammoth eats 1,600 pounds of grass a day. They forage for it almost constantly, excavating plant matter from snow and ice with their tusks. They supplement their diet with the large, nutritious rime-fruit, which grows high on a tree common along the southern edge of the Nattefrost. Rime-fruit is inedible to most beasts and brethren, but a mammoth can clear an entire tree with surprising efficiency.

Between ten and twenty Oric mammoths make up a herd, comprised of a dominant cow, several smaller females, and their calves. Herding cows are rarely aggressive if unprovoked, but are cautious around unfamiliar creatures. A pregnant mammoth gestates for 36 months before giving birth.

Adult males are larger than females. They travel alone, remaining isolated for most of the year and breeding when the herds move south at the end of summer. A bull mammoth won’t migrate as far as the rest of the herd, except for the first season after impregnating a cow. Bulls are prone to attack other creatures on sight and their aggression makes them an important threat for Orians to track when hunting a herd.

Giant Hunters
Ten hunters from different houses, their teenaged children, and twenty ox-pulled sleds depart in time to meet the herds as they migrate south from the Nattefrost. Lodges farther north make a shorter journey, but face a harsher winter for it.

They travel 10 miles per day toward the hunting grounds beyond the Lisvenn Mountains, aiming to intercept a herd before any bulls join them after breeding. A single bull is a risk, and the danger increases the longer it takes for hunters to discover the migration.Before the fight, a mage attempts to confuse the herd. They use precise illusion magic to send wolf howls into the ears of a single cow. She runs in a panic, confusing and agitating the others. The Orians keep a careful distance as they draw one away from the rest and wait for her to calm.

The hunters prepare a trap along the mammoth’s trail. It’s baited with rime-fruit and a bundle of grass among a net of reinforced rope covered in snow. When the mammoth drags her tusks through it, the snare tangles and prevents her head from moving. This buys the hunters precious time as they close with longbows, spears, and lassos to fell the raging beast.

Once they bring down a mammoth, the northerners spend two days or more dressing the carcass. A single hunt rears 10,000 pounds of meat, the same as twenty cattle. The hunters haul everything from the mammoth’s body for later use by their house. Of course, they also pack away every bit of precious ivory. They load the sleds and oxen drag the spoils back home.

Tusk Snare
Mechanical trap This trap uses a net of hemp rope attached to stakes hammered into the ground to restrain a creature.

The net is hidden by snow and ice. Spotting the net in the disturbed snow requires a DC 13 Wisdom (Perception) check. The trap can be dug up and removed harmlessly, but each of the four long spikes requires a DC 18 Strength check to remove it from the ground.

When a Large or larger creature makes a gore attack against the trap, they are tangled in the net and restrained. If the creature fails a DC 13 Strength saving throw, it is also knocked prone. A creature can use its action to make a DC 18 Strength check, freeing itself on a success. The net has AC 10 and 20 hit points. Dealing 5 slashing damage to the net destroys a 5-foot-square section of it, freeing any creature trapped in that section.

Family, Morality, Legacy
The bedrock of Oric society is legacy. Passing one’s understanding and wisdom to the next generation is the highest virtue in northern culture. A harsh climate and lean harvests demand that parents educate their children in how to survive. This ethos runs deep in all Oric families; it’s strong enough that brethren newcomers have adopted it in the short time they’ve lived in the north.

Childbirth is a celebrated occasion for everyone in a lodge house, and rearing a child is when an Orian reaches adulthood. Respected Orians treat their children well. They work to leave the next generation an easier life than they were born into.

In Oria, endowment is a spiritual concept; even the heart beats with an inherited rhythm. If one lives an honorable life, their descendents’ hearts will continue in that same tempo. Moral integrity is the same as physical might, so honesty bestows strength to one’s offspring. Orians may seem cold and surly to an outsider, but they are rarely guilty of lying.

An Orian keeps their children at their side at all times until puberty. Adults appearing often in public without their kids risk a bad reputation; leaving them to fend for themselves sets a poor example. Oric parents look to demonstrate lessons in everyday life, and the most flattering compliment one can pay a northern parent is to tell them they have a smart kid.

Orians are suspicious of childless adults. Without inheritors, why live a noble life? Childless northerners are seen as prone to frivolity and more likely to become criminals. However, those unable to conceive aren’t destined to be shunned. Adopting an orphan earns both parent and child great respect. These special families are a fulfillment of Pirhoua’s will, and parents teach that adopted children live charmed lives.

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Miners and Crafters
All northerners regard smithing as a noble profession and a fundamental part of their identity. Oria produces the world’s finest steel, and their folklore reflects love for the forge. Children hear stories about the first mole, whose crafty tunneling unearthed a treasured ore. The first bear used his powerful arms to fell a great tree to ignite the furnace. Then, the first elk hammered the white-hot stone into the materials to build their lodge.

Orians brought steel to other beasts in early days, and their ingenuity persisted. They went on to build the original Covenant Forge. This colossal arcane device imbues objects with magic manifested by ghosts from the Netherworld.

The Covenant Forge is the most common and efficient magic item creation method in the Beast World.

Inherited Mastery
Oric craftsmen consider their work a lifelong apprenticeship. The smith inherits the skills of their forefathers, just as they inherit their hammer. They toil all their lives to unearth some new truth in the steel’s essence. When they lay down their tools for the last time, they pass that treasured knowledge to their own progeny.

Young adults are traveling from Oria more often these days, but they face losing the wisdom of their loved ones in exchange for this adventure. However, most parents refuse to see ambition as a tragedy. Ever-adaptive Oric elders are learning to read and write at the fastest rate in the world. A young Orian who leaves for the Delve or any other pursuit receives a steady stream of letters from their parents and grandparents. They’re filled with their parents’ love for them and outline lessons they would have learned in person.

As literacy becomes ubiquitous in modern Oria, an intellectual revolution is waiting just under the surface. If old wisdom is recorded, it can be compared. And if it can be compared, the very best methods can be standardized.}}

The Oenin
The northern lovers’ holiday is a passionate affair… in an Oric way. Autumn arrives, the hunt returns, and the lodge finishes stockpiling food. Tradition goes that as the doors close for winter, unmarried young Orians slip out. Their parents yell through the door, playing as if angry at this deception. “Don’t come back until you’ve found a wife!” It’s all for show, of course; they ensure that their restless youths are well-packed before their “sneaking out.”

The travelers hike into freezing, rarefied air to find lovers and spouses. Braving treacherous mountain passes and the ice sheet of the Nattefrost, they journey to the northernmost tip. While the crowd is mostly Oric,even an Alley wolf with the fortitude to sit under the aurora earns respect. Once they prove their strength by enduring the trip, they hold the Oenin (WAYnin).

Single young Orians celebrate all winter, dancing around bonfires tall enough to defeat the cold. Some romantic hopefuls carve scrimshaw jewelry from ivory won in the hunt. They offer it to the one they wish to marry (or at least, the one they wish to spend the next few weeks with). Elders in the house say with a grin that an eligible and attractive northerner is “wearing more ivory every year.” Lovers enjoy private time together under the aurora, eating sweet, buttery foods they brought from home. They eat honeycombs and drink the mead they tucked away all summer for the occasion.

On the festival’s last day, everyone buries candied fruit in the permafrost. Only unmarried people can attend, so the previous year’s supply is eaten “in memory” of newlyweds who have observed their last Oenin. Couples who got engaged during the party take their plans home for their family’s approval. The rest will return next year.of the homeland.

Lodge House Leadership
A batko leads a lodge house. Once appointed, they are its absolute authority; the batko is the monarch within the house’s walls and their presence commands respect. Not even the berendey, Oria’s ruler, can command a batko in their own home. The majority of batkos are elk and most of the rest are bears. However, brethren are worthy up-and-comers in northern politics.

Batkos are the gatekeepers of their houses. Visitors meet directly with them before doing anything else. This lets the batko decide if the strangers are welcome and show off what makes them proud of their house. The leaders of smaller houses give a tour, introducing visitors to each family. If the batko is unavailable, they designate a proxy from their immediate family. Guests stay at the batko’s pleasure, when and where they deem fit.

Choosing the Worthy
The position of batko is held for life. When they die, one person from each family gathers to choose a new ruler. Mammoth hunters are most commonly chosen, but occasionally a breakthrough in engineering or architecture will impress the elders enough to win one the title. The selection is a public spectacle where prospects and supporters present why their contribution to the house is most noteworthy. The principle is to choose the one who makes the most compelling case, but politics are an important factor, of course.

Once the candidates finish making their arguments, a War Mage oversees a vote. Each family living in the lodge house contribute a vote, which are weighted based on how many members spent the last winter within its walls.

Recall and Exodus
If a batko embarrasses or endangers their house, they are recalled. It happens infrequently, but if the berendey hears enough pleas from the house, they call a War Mage to oversee another election. The batko must make their case for remaining, while opposed by new candidates. A batko challenged this way is already humiliated, and even moreso if they cannot win the vote.

When a lodge house has grown too large to function properly, it requires an exodus. Family elders gather before a War Mage like any other election, except that the chosen prospect becomes the ruler of a newly formed lodge. The two batkos meet to divide the families, and the new one departs with necessary supplies to form their house.

An exodus can be a joyous occasion. Most people celebrate sending some of a younger generation to find their own path. However, it’s also a loss of power for the sitting batko, as rulers from Oria and other homelands respect a large house. Headstrong batkos resist attempts at exodus and shrewd ones even watch for excess stockpiling that precedes a call for an exodus vote.

The Berendey
The berendey of Oria is the head of all its houses, holding authority over matters affecting the entire homeland. They resolve disputes and conflict between houses, which is why the title of berendey carries the honorific “Father of Fathers.” They sit at the Seat of the Hunt in the largest of the lodge houses, Jegervalt.

The berendey is chosen the same as an individual lodge’s ruler. When one dies, the batko of every house in Oria is duty-bound to gather in Jegervalt. One can nominate anyone they believe is the worthiest to become the new berendey. They make their case, then they all vote under the watch of every senior War Mage.

Oria’s military is structured according to the wishes of its berendey. The ranks answer directly to the ruler, who reshapes them as they see fit. Its structure is an expression of the berendey’s ingenuity and wisdom, inherited from their forebears. Orians believe this flexible structure makes them a fluid and adaptable force, and prevents bloodthirsty officers from entrenching in military politics.

This law has stood since the first berendey was chosen to command Oria at the start of the Mantle War. The ursine Yelizaveta is a legendary figure beloved for her prowess on the battlefield and leadership in uniting the lodge houses against invasion.

The War Mages
There is a single enduring military tradition in Oria, which has stood for over a century: the Oric War Mages. This secretive order oversees the peaceful signing of every new berendey’s military charter, and executes the transition of power. Every berendey has retained the War Mage order in their own vision of the military. They serve the Oric people directly, rather than answering to the berendey or batkos.

Most believe the War Mages are among the most powerful students of the Arcana and masters of martial discipline. Their headquarters is the Suurin Forge, a Covenant Forge filled with legendary Oric relics. Many of the most popular and efficient evocation theses were written by wizards revealed to have been War Mages after their deaths.

The War Mages are brash, headstrong hunters: a perfect union of meat and mind. Yet, the organization is shrouded in such mystery that even their exact number is a secret. Some believe there’s one in every crowd keeping a watchful eye for the good of the Oric people. Others see them as conniving knives in the dark, a shadow government in Oria. This is an especially popular opinion among Alley nobility.

What everyone knows is that when a War Mage publicly reveals themselves, it’s a portent of grave consequences. They last appeared in force during the final conflict of the Invader War, the Battle of Bluebell Valley. The battle occurred the week after the Invader Army assassinated Berendey Alexander to destabilize the Oric army. A hundred War Mages responded with an explosive appearance, and their actions helped to turn the battle’s tide in the beasts’ favor.

The head of the War Mages during the Invader War was a cervine named Torsten. Oria chose him as the new berendey after Bluebell Valley in recognition for avenging their fallen ruler and helping to free the Beast World. He sits in the Seat of the Hunt today, having overseen the human Pilgrimage and reconstruction after the war.

Pirhouanism in Oria
Every lodge house’s bethel room is known by its forge, which remains lit day and night to shape steel from the ore deep in Pirhoua’s earth. The bethelkeeper instructs youths in keeping these flames, demonstrating the virtues of craftsmanship.

In the north, Pirhoua is the goddess of creation, learning, and the forge. They take her command to build communities more literally than other sects. Clerics teach Oric Pirhouans from childhood that a neighbor who can help put a roof over one’s head is a precious friend indeed.

Dramphinian Distrust
Oria is deeply suspicious of Dramphine and her followers, an attitude unique to the north. Members of the Moon Wolf’s paladin order have difficulty earning any batko’s blessing to stay within the walls of a lodge house. A batko will virtually never honor a judgment passed by a Dramphinian paladin; even if they wanted to, it would devastate the house’s reputation. Any Oric Dramphinian is sure to have a fascinating life story leading to such a rare combination of homeland and position.

This animosity comes from several directions at once. First, paladins are a foreign authority entering a batko’s sovereign house. They demand automatic respect and jurisdiction by right of an invisible, universal force of justice. Another cause is the lack of Orians among their order. It’s the unfortunate sort of truth that makes itself more true over time. It also certainly doesn’t help that the avatar of Dramphine is the Moon Wolf, a symbolic species that brings a scowl to many Orians’ faces.

The strongest case for Oria’s rejection of Dramphinism is on the Elkbrother Islands. This brutally cold region was settled centuries ago by a small lodge house called Doloretsk. Its batko devised an unorthodox way to survive on the islands; one that a Dramphinian would certainly call Unnatural.

Using reanimated corpses to perform farm work, the people of Doloretsk live and even thrive in the Elkbrother Islands’ inhospitable wasteland. The danger of using Veronette’s necromancy crushed the original batko’s hopes of revolutionizing life in Oria. However, the sovereignty and self-determination of a lodge house is held sacrosanct.

In a word, the Dramphinians were pissed. When they first learned of Doloretsk’s “clever idea”, they stormed north to the fields immediately. They destroyed the bodies of the Orians’ ancestors with the blazing white fire of their lady’s Lantern. Oria saw this as blatant desecration of inheritance and an outright invasion. Even the most diplomatic paladins were unable to earn forgiveness for such a glaring crime, as they couldn’t denounce Dramphine’s will. Orians never forgot that.

The Delve in Oria
Lodges are enamored with the new visitors the Delve has brought, as many of their families have never traveled beyond Oria. They ensure the colorful, unfamiliar newcomers in a caravan are well-served. Batkos ask caravans to tell neighbors about the great food and comfort offered in their own houses. However, crews who take advantage of Oric hospitality risk the batko’s wrath. And a sudden need to find other accommodations. Or a splint for their broken limbs.

Just after a caravan passes the Mantle, it usually sees shops offering a service new to lower Oria: wagon ski re-fits. A crew ignores this assistance at their own risk. “Snow is quiet,” warns the mole ranger Gitli, “it sneaks out of the sky and around wheels when you least expect it.” The high moun�tain roads offer breathtaking vistas, but crews should take care to keep the outer ski on solid rock. Rolling down the side of the Grensa moun�tains isn’t as much fun as it sounds.

For the Dungeon, hidden caverns along well-trav�eled passes are free real estate. The jagged rocks towering over both sides of Oric trade routes conceal a thousand opportunities for its appearance. Merchants have learned to keep their heads tilted upward while heading through narrow canyons.

The first reports of giant worms were dismissed as exaggerations and tall tales. This wishful thinking came to an end last summer. A wagon rolled into a caravan with its crew holding up one side, bitten clean in half. The purple worms of Oria are timid and sleep for months at a time. However, if a hungry “purp” comes knocking on a wagon’s undercarriage, only prepared delvers will roll away from the encounter.