TheCzarsHussar

I've waited fifteen years for a new Demons and Wizards album to come out, having just heard everything in the new album. Well, I'm fucking pleased. That was good as fuck.

I cannot make promises I'm unable to keep.

Dammit Doc

@The Good Doctor (Only tagging you because I think you're the only one who read it )

Boreal Lowlands, Myrumbrian Tundra, Boarstruffles and the Clans of Bone. Ethurmenas nyr-Rem, Second Edition Date of Publication, 4E 103 Author's Preface and Letter to the Patron ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Most gallant gentry folk, it is the assumption of this collection of parchments that the patron has concluded their reading of the previous piece in this collection. Of which seeks to replace the aged and rather incorrect of statement Imperial Pocket Guide's Upperboral Provinces. The patron can trust with assurance of the abilities of one most long-written author. As good standing member of the local Geographical Society branch, it falls within my sphere to educate the most noble of patrons to the histories of beloved Roscrea. In this endeavor, since the publication of the previous collection, Voice of the Insular Immaculate, I, the author has partaken a tremendous journey of census taking and histographic work across the island. Indeed the years were most kind between this writing and the previous work. Eight years spent away from familiarity, it is the opinion of the author that he has grown in experience. Still should anything of my writ be found lacking or dullard I ask forgiveness, it is no fault but my own. Be in good faith. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Beyond the Oasis-Havens Roscrea, woefully witnessed the fate of Atmora, cursed and frozen, with Mother Hag's harsh-touch. This god-spirit of Fryse Hags' worship held deep desire to include Roscrea within her forlorn realm, she weaved frozen ocean, breathed frost-cursed monsoon, and harsh-touched the island with infinite winter. Though her power waned with the kingdom of death in northrealm Atmora. Grasping and spiteful the death spirit was but lacking of mettle to destroy the bright-splendor in full. So spoke I, of bountiful lands of still-green. Short summers do we still encounter, when ice comes to our realms, it melts right and proper. We return spite with spite. Civilization, both blessed by Cyrod Great and Far, and otherwise has overcame the death spirit's desires. It was written previously of the realms settled and long sprouted of roots. Yet in wide swaths of little number, there are other ways of life. Whom roam the vast tundras or dwell in eternal hunt of the lowlands. Boarstruffles and the Boreal Lowlands Isolated from everyday thought, and indeed by excessive distance from civilization is the city-state of Boarstruffles. Though to consider it anywhere resembling a city is a gross mark. Roscrea in being a volcanic isle is by it's very nature, mountainous. Though all the remaining places of terrifying underground wrath remains in the Middland Plateau in the westernrealms, much of the island is sprung with high brow mountains of frozen pine forests. It is a wonder then that any wildlife can survive in the high mountains as surely without crop how could Atmoriant ever survive? To this the answer lies in the boreal lowlands of central Roscrea, the undeveloped landscape is suitable for the most hardy of crops as the worst of winter is kept in the highlands. However, it is not the tending to farmsteads that the wild peoples of the lowlands occupy their livelihood with. These forester-folk are obsessive of Kyne and spend all their thoughts on the hunting, and taming of wildlife. Namely the massive boars native to the lowlands, but also saber cats, reindeer and bears. Nestled in the lowland valley at the cusp of a glacial river floodplain between three mountain ranges is the anomaly of Boarstruffles. Boarstruffles is the beating, rather literally I might add to the patron, heat of this hunter-gatherer lifestyle. It is a close knitted collection of a hundred and thirty structures called Brochs. Hollow dry stone structures typically surrounded by an outer wall with a few smaller structures for housing animals within. When one ponders about townships and cities, the consensus is a good collection of households, perhaps industry and a ruling keep, manor, palace or castle that governs said settlement, protected by some form of palisade. Boarstruffles is a peculiar thing of a great many walled households spread across the floodplain, each Broch can support an entire familiar clan. The settlement is not so much an urban center as a collection of cooperating, single minded clans each self governing within their Broch. The ruling body of Boarstruffles are the Elder Hunters Guild. A gathering of clan fathers of their households that preside within the, very apt equipped, mead hall. Boarstruffles is by no means a place of squalor and struggle. Indeed what is really a confederation of clan-houses practically drown in their own kind of splendor. Boarstruffles serve as an invaluable crossroads between west and eastern Roscrea, which without the city-state would be impossible to traverse by land. Reindeer herding nomads from the west and mammoth riding nomads from the tundra make constant journeys across the island, with Boarstruffles at the center of it. Thus it is the true center of trade in all of Roscrea, a facet that is seldom thought of. Yet it's head of trade between the nomads isn't the only thing of note, in fact it is dwarfed by the eternal occupation of it's peoples. It's familiar clans are master hunters, not one day passes where related kin bring in slain boars, of which infests the lowlands. Each month, hundreds of tusks are carved by the greatest bone-carvers of all the isle into tools, idols, weapons and even armor. The splendor of their hunters is on how decorated in bone they are. The great old hunters are equipped in full armors of boar tusk, carved into layers of lamellar. A terrifying sight to behold. They shun all metallurgy, their entire way of life revolves around hunter gathering and bone crafting. Salt from the Myrumbrian Tundra keeps the supply of meat from spoil and allows both healthy diet for the hunterfolk and to trade abroad. The wealthy that eat meat, eat boar meat. Hunted and killed in the lowlands, salted and traded. They've remained unconquered and are passive in the affairs of other powers. The Soothingtooth understood the importance of Boarstruffles and as they made no resistance to his spectacular conquest, his armies of champion retainers never turned sword and spear against them. Neither has there been any land grants or settlement, for lack of industry, although wild Nords have made the lowlands their home. Religiously the folk of the lowlands follow a more archaic worship of the Nine, that being a more primitive fashion not too far off from that of Skyrim. Kyne is worshiped vehemently, their culture praises honorable conflict and noble hunting. It is good they remain in isolation, in tune with Kyne and forever in hunt. Otherwise I believe they would be unparalleled warriors, only madmen hunt wildlife as large as they! Mammoth-Tribes of the Tundra If Boarstruffles is the anomaly of settled life outside the oasis-havens of east and west, then the nomadic tribes of the Myrumbrian Tundra is the commonality found. They roam across the tundra and oft across the mountain valleys into the west and back again. The westernmost of the tundra is sprung in expansive forests of hardy-root pines that have long lost all leafs, this ancient forest is stagnant and will never grow again, with each frost rotten-tree felled it dwindles evermore. Eastward in a strange mirror of the Royal Basin, of which lies to the south of the most expansive tundra, the land is mostly flat with sparse patches of vegetation of and countless frozen rivers. In ancient times the great expanse of rivers, creeks and springs held a distant civilization, that flourished in the yet still green landscape. Now only frozen ruins of dragon worshiping ancestors dot the landscape.All that remains of what once might have been is the timberline between the River Ros and the Myrumbrian Tundra, a beautiful if not small stretch of of plentiful vegetation of colorful reddish brown shrubs and grass, rich for grazing but worthless of farmstead. As one way of life dies, another springs up to replace it. So have the mammoth riding nomads, that dwell and roam as far back as written history. These native tribesmen, of which have absolutely no understanding of unity, are collections of families bound in kinship that eek out a living in the harsh permawinter landscape, far from warmth and comfort. It is not surprising that only Atmoriants can maintain this lifestyle, even the hardiest of Nords would freeze to death in the tundra as the nomads no nothing of fire and warmth. They hunt and fish below the frozen topped water while their mammoths grazed under the permafrost. They hardly consider themselves Roscrean, for they do not recognize that clan. There is nothing beyond kinship to these nomads and each clan might as well be a great kingdom in of itself, for the elder of the family is the highest authority. Often do they come into conflict with other clans, often times over the right to pan for salt or amber in a general area. The largest of these ever in migration clan conflicts are awe inspiring. The clan that took me within the family in my journey showed me ancient battlegrounds, where the bodies of Atmoriant and mammoths were left in permanent frost as landmarks. The unyielding cold preserving their corpses. These nomads live by trading the amber and salt, of which the tundra is plentiful in, to both the Roscrean Principate, my realm of birth, and across the mountains to Boarstruffles and further west to the Haafingar-Folk and Middland Plateau. Salt is worth it's weight in gold, but what these nomads most pride themselves in is the taming and breeding of mammoths. Atmoriants cannot ride horses, of which there were none in Roscrea before the Soothingtooth. Indeed our mount of luxury and war has always been the mammoth, and nowhere else but the Myrumbrian Tundra are do they dwell anymore. It is an expensive thing to even maintain mammoths outside the tundra, it is far cheaper for men to own horses. Clans will travel great distances across Roscrea to sell prized breeds to the wealthy Atmoriants for exorbitant prices. The township of Myrumbricum, north of the River Ros is a primary trading hub for the wandering clans. Amber, salt and mammoths are bartered for us folk in the east and are much more plentiful of stead. Thus let it be said that there is a way of life, in defiance to our situation, in the far off frozen landscape beyond the oasis-havens. Blessings of the divines, of which there are no less than nine.Blessings of the divine Talos-by-the-Eight.Third faithful blessing to the court of Cyrod, may the tower beam forever.

HBO's Deadwood, Early good Game of Thrones...uh. Star Trek TNG?

Ah, that had to be fun. Having some fuckboy bear come in and say post limit every so often.

HBO's Rome count?

Aight, who was Yes Man FTW, was he a B A N or just never delved into it?

This most illustrious Swede needs to watch I'Claudius. John Hurt absolutely killed the role as Caligula.

Oh my god, it feels like I've taken a time machine back to a most ancient past.

Warpenergybot?

I just saw The Pompous Altmer was banned and was chuckling at that, then saw Colonel was banned too. Fucking great.

Who was Madhog?

Et tu Doc?

My god this is so disorganized.

Technicaaaaaaly I do have Lebanese family from my grandmother's side

What the fuck happened to my comment, jesus christ autocorrect

Some thot stealing you boi, he were fair build too. I wasn disbelief tha asylum