“To the west in those precarious places which we have dubbed as the New World, there reside in those lands creatures that are both unlike us in essence totality, but somehow possess just barely enough of the most basal of the human qualities to be labeled among the disparate races of the world." Account of Tsophirato Neraci, Tilean anthropologist and explorer =================================================================================================================== The Itzatecah, Holders of the Plan The peoples of Yextamundaro, otherwise known as the continent of Lustria within the vulgar tongues of Reikspiel, are regarded across the colonies of warm-blooded interlopers by a variety of coarse and demeaning names, with even the most benign of such terms all roughly equating to the indelicate expression of Lizardmen, evident to the lack of thought these outlanders possess. For from the skewed perspectives of their foreign counterparts ever duplicitous, the bestial appearance of the Itzatecah is what defines them most truly, likening them to the swathes of abhorrent beastkin who stalk the woodland dark of the Old World. Of course, such presumptions are harrowingly false, the fallacies these perfidious warm-bloods concocted thus failing to reach even but a fraction of any semblance to the Saurians of the southern New World. Bound onto a timeless and primordial order, the Itzatecah are in reality the custodians of a stoic cause, defending stubbornly the idea of the perfect world as envisioned by their blessed idols, the Old Ones. Made risen from among the tribes of archaic reptiles who inhabited cities of clay and stone during a period before Chaos flooded the earth, these elder Saurians resided upon the primeval landmass of Mundelos, rearing flocks of gallinaceous aves with rural simplicity across the fields that would later become Yextamundaro. For soon, these peoples would be visited by the likes of a foreign dominion endemic to nowhere but the heavens and beyond, engendering an era of absolute subservience to an imperial household composed of beings so detached from the elements of any earthly creature. Such an alien armada would make itself known to be the ever-enigmatic Old Ones, riding upon their ships made of silver hewn with gold. By a show of arms so disastrous that it had led to the utter desecration of nigh-every city the ancestral Itzatecah once had, the magics of the indigenous Saurians proved too minor in the face of this otherworldly technology, and their homes were thus met with uncaring streams of flame and death that rained down upon them with the utmost impunity. Even the plains had been set ablaze, reducing their nations to a smoldering wasteland that was deemed unlivable for even the most minuscule of vermin. The rivers too had been put to a halt, their life-giving flow now dried up without so much as a warning or answer to the native peoples. Truly, it was an apocalypse like no other, and when the Old Ones had at last ceased their assault and proclaimed themselves the new gods of the Munda, the survivors of this grave calamity possessed not even an ounce of opposition to their new masters, their compliance fueled with the hope that their descendants would live to see the next dawn. With mercy compound of their capricious whims, the Old Ones went about seeding the land once more with life abundant, altering the native flora and fauna so that a mighty jungle would rise where seas of grass once flourished. They then ordered for the construction of new cities whose positions aligned with the foundations of the Geomantic Web, amplifying their presence and power upon the mortal plan with tremendous effects. As the generations passed and the fear of the ancestral Itzatecah evolved into a sense of unwavering devotion and awe, thus did these conquered Saurians dutifully march out in accordance with their unquestionable masters, traveling across nigh-all the very width of the earth itself, compelled with the intent of spreading the one truth of their lords most supreme. In their wake, the Itzatecah would do upon their neighbors what had befallen their own forebears, bringing bloody ruin upon the lands they visited and forcing their inhabitants to either bend knee to their alien idols or suffer a fate of assured doom. This arrangement would go unchanged for a millennium, allowing the Old Ones to begin pruning their new bastion of its undesirables and affirming those things that proved integral to their Great Plan unknowable. Within due time, the birthing of the warm-blooded races was at last set into motion, destined to forever alter this world in the years resounding. First came the elfs with their impassioned souls and the dwarfs with their hardy spirits, afterward arrived the men with their tenacious will and virile nature, and last were born the ogres and halflings who, while unfinished in their initial design, were wholly complementary of one another. Yet still, the meticulous preparations of the Old Ones proved for nothing, as their doom was assured when came the crash of their Polar Gates, hurling them into the realm of null and void along with their enigmatic goal for this world. This event was proclaimed many things by the numerous Itzatecah peoples of Yextamundaro, with the most common of such terms being translated as the Great Catastrophe. For all across the world, bloodshed and disorder reigned supreme as the hordes of the Ruinous Powers descended with their destructive zeal, heralding the damning encroach of their bale dimension. To the elfs and dwarfs, their peoples shall always hold to themselves the highest of esteem for their efforts during that bygone era, lacking in full scope to the horrors that showered the world in malign splendor. For what the elder warmbloods have blatantly ignored is that the brunt of the daemon hosts were quelled not by their middling ancestors, but by the holy flame that was the Itzatecah and their unyielding faith. They raised armies that would’ve eclipsed the modern legions of man, elf, dwarf, and the other warm-bloods combined, numbering high above their younger counterparts even when the Old Ones still walked among their kind as they foolishly remained idle in their zenith. The battles waged by the Itzatecah would have inspired incomparable wander and a primeval terror among any warm-blood who was doomed enough to be caught anywhere near such an apocalyptic scene. As such, it would behoove a member of the lesser creatures to keep true in their hearts the fear they possess for the scaled natives of Yextamundaro. For even though their dominion has since diminished greatly in the aftermath of the apocalypse, the Itzatecah remain foremost the eldest of the Old Ones' children and are still as capable of wielding the provident might of their gods. ================================================================================================================== Edit: Will be soon working on another post for the rest of the Saurians, alongside a general summary Upcoming Cultures: Fimirul Khureshimi Kaempas Skogi Taipanpama Yau-Kuai Mogoibaser Nyokabinad Azremite Nagaraja Kapahito Zumahas Nanahesa Sugelandra Tliyisht Tapotobo
“It would appear that not only do the men of coastal Albion content themselves with sharing their pitiful isles with the likes of the Geants and Trolisch, of the Orkney and Kublins, but as well as those followers of Ur-Chaeus, and among such vile peoples the Faemirol are perhaps the most inhuman." Account of Juchtanis Uchter, Nordlander privateer =================================================================================================================== The Fimirul, Kindred of Daemons Among the societies of men both northern and southern endemic to the Remwollisch lands of the Old World, adjacent to them is an isle that is feared and abhorred for its unsavory inhabitants. The Norscans refer to this place as Saexland, doing so in honor of those kindred soldiery who would dare seek to propagate their belligerent race upon such hellish shores. The Brettonians on the other hand claim the island to be the mythical homeland of their Rhyaic ancestors, thus engendering among their many lords an ambition for bloody crusade. As for the Sigmarites and Kisleviy, they hold to themselves similar terms for that accursed landmass, regarding it as Albion, a realm that inspires nigh-all among the greedy with the intent of plundering the isle for all its archaic wealth. Yet, even in the face of such a foreign threat wherein warm-bloods of all purposes come upon the land bearing armaments of silver, the Saurians of Tuathule, as the island is called by its native peoples, remain ever undaunted when roused into battle. Though they are not a singular culture with any predominant state among them, their collective nations refer to each other as the Fimirul, united in their worship of the god Fimaelugh, and are thus willing to fight for all members of their martial household. For within myth, it is believed that they took their misty homeland through the rites of conquest and so recognized the need to wage perpetual warfare, lest they too become subjugated by foreign armies. Even towards the mainland of Remwall do they seek to upend the rule of others, their numbers thus swelling among the fetid marshes and rotting evergreen, delivered there by the strength of a vengeful god. It is here do they compete with the tribes of beastkin with whom they share the berth of the land with, fighting with reptilian determination as they seek to claim the greenwood for themselves. Regardless of this great rivalry with the likes of animalistic heathens, the Fimirul are reviled even so by the more orderly of their warm-blood neighbors, remarked as nothing more than an abhorrent flock in service to the Ruinous Powers. In the eyes of nearby humanity, the gods of Tuathule are nothing more than extensions of the adjacent dimensions and all their corruptive influence, deemed as middling gods whose very existence threatens to tear open reality. While it would be wrong to construe this faith into one of true Anathema, the high-god of the Fimirul, alongside his vassal kindred, was indeed born from the bale energies of Chaos. Such a history goes as far back as to the primeval past, for when the world was made forever changed by the will of the Old Ones, there were many among the ancestral Saurians who either refused such alien dominion or were deemed unfit within the schematics of the Great Plan. They were thus met with extermination, made to die by the hands of those kindred reptiles who had fallen under sway beneath the heel of unearthly gods. These uprooted peoples then turned towards the great enemies of the Old Ones, cementing pacts with the Ruinous Powers in an effort to expel the invaders from their homes. Yet, regardless of their new allegiance, these fallen Saurians would suffer tremendous defeats at the hands of their nigh-omniscient enemies. The Old Ones would then cruelly confine the survivors of those vengeful hordes, marching them northwards into the arms of the chilled winds of the Greater Pole. It was here did these bands of unrelated cultures begin to intermingle and adapt to their new surroundings, learning to let fester the will of Chaos within their tortured hearts. In time, the many peoples of the North would coalesce to become the forebears of the Fimirul, developing a new identity centered around their shared worship of Anathema. Once more did their numbers replenish, and again they would march to the South into the lands of their enemies, retreating and returning like a ceaseless wave upon the beach. This undying resilience would garner for the Fimirul the notice of the remaining Dragon Ogres scattered across the Munda, who would eventually force these emergent hordes under their rule. Unfortunately, the Dragon Ogres could not, by nature of their misshapen minds, bring themselves as to form a united front against the enemies of Chaos. Thus were the Fimirul once more divided, their great army now picked apart by bickering warlords who would not pay heed to the threat that the Old Ones posed. It is for this lack of unity did the worship of Anathema become fractured among the Fimirul, now divided along the lines of whichever deity their respective Dragon Ogre felt amicable towards. Eventually, as the generations passed the aspects they held for the Ruinous Powers became so distinct as to be considered separate from the true voices of Chaos. These differing names would in time take on meaning besides despoilation and anarchy, eventually being elevated to the status of newborn gods. Regardless, these emergent deities would remain loyal to the realm of disorder, as is evident by what would come next. It is clear to everyone that the Fimirul played a part in the fall of the Polar Gates, for certainly their Dragon Ores masters could have never devised such a plan that it continues to remain hidden even among the modern Fimirul. The naive divinities, however, did not think of the possibility that both they and their followers would not be rewarded for their loyalty. As when the hordes of daemons first set within the mortal plane, it was those Anathema-worshipping Saurians who became their first victims. It was here where the gods of the Fimirul chose to break free from the will of Chaos, seeing to it that their followers, and by extension themselves, be saved from the terror that now swarmed the earth. In contrast to the Dragon Ogres who would receive immortality at the cost of eternal servitude, the Fimirul would abandon their former crusade, fleeing to the forgotten isle of Albion. There they made tidings with those druidic men who had remained in the aftermath of the Old Ones' disappearance. The storied and wise among the Fimirul claim that the mannish natives of Albion refused to give their ancestors either parley or ground, leaving them with no choice as to resort once more upon the barbarities they had become so acquainted with With whatever strength they had left, the Fimirul waged a ceaseless war against the remnants of the Old Ones' followers, driving humanity into the seas where it is said that the gods of the Fimirul manifested as terrible sea dragons who proceeded to devour their enemies. Thus did the lands of Albion become prey to foreign settlement one more, and yet it would come at a terrible cost for its new conquerors. Taking notice of what their old playthings had done, the Ruinous Powers, compelled by their capricious whims, saw to it that a terrible mist would envelop the waters surrounding Albion, trapping their former worshippers for generations to come. It was only after the conception of the Vortex did the fog begin to dissipate, allowing for the Fimirul to make travels upon the waves yet again. With great hope and even greater abandon, the Fimirul thus set about to reclaim the mainland in the wake of their enemies' great retreat to the New World. Much to their collective horror, however, they were quick to realize that no longer was the world solely dominated by the likes of reptiles, and it instead proved to be just as much populated with the likes of warmbloods as it were with the First Children. =================================================================================================================== Edit: Will be soon working on another post for the rest of the Saurians, alongside a general summary Upcoming Cultures: Khureshimi Kaempas Skogi Taipanpama Yau-Kuai Mogoibaser Nyokabinad Azremite Nagaraja Kapahito Zumahas Nanahesa Sugelandra Tliyisht Tapotobo
“A nation of poets and artists, and still they are a race of monsters akin to the Nagaraja, those Khureshimi are as good in the art of verse as they are well-met in combat, and if not for the intense dread I feel whenever around them, I would have taken Trac-Lhong as my bodyguard." Account of Ahlama Akem, Indush prince of the city-state Kangala =================================================================================================================== The Khureshimi, Survivors of Apocalypse With a name brought far to the West by word of those Indush mariners and tradesmen, the Khureshimi are a collection of Saurian peoples who stand vigil deep within the south of Hungolus, living both saintly and prideful within their densely forested peninsula of Khuresh. Though they be regarded with wonder and fame throughout the cities of Nehekarya and Remwall, this ophidian race is feared across the remainders of the far-eastern half of the Old World, their monstrous spirit being attested to within the annals of imperial Qidai, proclaiming them the most inhuman of the Eight-Cardinal-Barbarians. For to the ancient past did the Tiger-Emperors march forth bearing threat of conquest throughout the width of Hungolus, and whenever they led their great armies southwards were such shows of force always beaten back no matter the cost on part of the local reptiles. Even during those times when the rulership of the Qidai-Ren had been supplanted by the likes of those foreign peoples such as the Gyal-Bo to the West, the Qirmi-Hungol to the North, and the Yiri-Saram to the East, these instances of dynastic shift proved to little effect in regards to the conquest of Khuresh. Yet, it is not for this stubborn defiance that has given the Khureshimi such a dreaded reputation, rather these peoples are feared most especially in accordance with their sense of bloody vengeance, known to take great lengths in order to honor what they consider to be a just cause. For whenever the likes of foolish warm-bloods would come forth and seek their glory within the lands of Khuresh, such transgressions would always be rewarded tenfold as the Saurians of the southern kingdoms are not quick to forget. When they are roused from their usual ambivalence to the world around them, the many warbands of the Khureshimi will emerge poised to fight by each other's side, filled with the intent of fulfilling the warpath ahead of them. Such is the extent of their collective fury that on numerous occasions did these Saurian menaces march forth into the lands of Qidai, swarming the nation until its many cities had been reduced to ruins. This aforementioned coordination is exceptional even among other Saurians, for the Khureshimi are a nation united not by any political borders nor writ of law, for their land is composed of over a dozen petty kingdoms who are just as likely to fight among one another as much as they are to do battle with warm-bloods. Instead, their many disparate polities are brought together by those things such as bloodline and a shared identity, for they recognize such notions on the basis that unlike the rest of their ilk scattered across the earth, they have yet to align themselves with either of those opposing factions within the war of Order and Chaos. Rather, they have remained stalwart towards the ancient faith of their forebears, proclaiming continuity with those Saurians who existed in a time long before those foreign gods of null and void had dared lay sight upon the Munda. They thus retain a special reverence for those creatures of Dragonkind, leading the Khureshimi to continue to build high their pagodas ever daunting, honoring the memory of the primordial drakes who had given themselves in defense of their mortal followers. For when the slave armies of the Old Ones marched out across the earth, dismantling those power structures that came before them, the would-be lands of Khuresh were among those places they besieged with unearthly terror. With their fleets of gold and silver, they rained fire upon the ancestral Khureshimi, all the while the very earth itself contorted and twisted at the behest of these alien invaders from the heavens. So terrible was their power that Khuresh itself was cut off from the mainland, shaped into the peninsula it now is today before being cast into the sea for generations uncountable. This butchery continued on for the longest time until finally, those remaining members of Dragonkind at last came out of hiding, blessing the troubled Khureshimi peoples with their grace and protection. They convened atop Mt. Ca Vui, emerging from the cavern systems that ran beneath it. Together they rallied under the one voice of their king, Ve Treng Hui, who proclaimed war against the colonial might of their enemies. The Dragons thus fought valiantly for their beleaguered children, their grit so powerful that they would establish concord with the seemingly unstoppable Old Ones who would listen to no other entities but themselves. The Dragons then proclaimed the borders of their earthly kingdom in contrast to the stellar dominion of those aliens, going so far as to bargain for the realignment of Old Khuresh with its continental body. Thus, the followers of Dragonkind were left in peace for a time, not minding the rest of the world as it was changed forevermore around their homeland so fallen and ruined. Even to their sisterly neighbors they could only turn back from their plights, returning them to the lands that lay under the authority of the Old Ones. For even though the Dragons had by all means won the war, their treaty demanded of them to stand by with neutrality towards the onset of this alien terraformation. So was the world forever changed, those peoples and lands outside of Khuresh were now made subservient to the will of interstellar gods. Yet, when the hubris of the Old Ones grew too much to bear for this planet, the will of the Ruinous Powers thus surged across the glove, and the Khureshimi could only despair once more as they had yet to rebuild their land, its ecology, and society. Seeing that a great age of troubles would befall the entirety of the earth and its children, the Dragons once more came to the aid of their people ever reliant. They would bless the soils of the once-mundane Khuresh with their divine blood, sprouting a malign forest of death and rebirth which halted the hordes of Anathema even for but a moment's grace. Many among the returning Dragons would lead their followers personally against these daemon hosts, teaching them to be courageous even in the face of certain death. Among their armies were those mortal warriors whose might was most potent, whose blood ran with the properties of their draconic makers. The drakes taught these individuals to ascend beyond the mortal laws that once restricted them, becoming godly serpents in their own right. When the Great Catastrophe had at last subsided, the original Dragons underwent a terrible slumber, leaving their children alone once more to fend for themselves. Except this time, rather than abandoning a clutch of hapless Saurians, the ancient drakes had instead left behind the Khureshimi, reforged by the pains of hardship. Here they remain within the lands of Khuresh, led by their semi-divine kings who stand as mimicry to the might of the primeval gods. Now, they wait once more for the next apocalypse to enter the world, carrying on the spirit of their forebears as they prepare in defense of their homeland ever sacred. =================================================================================================================== Edit: Will be soon working on another post for the rest of the Saurians, alongside a general summary Upcoming Cultures: Kaempas Skogi Taipanpama Yau-Kuai Mogoibaser Nyokabinad Azremite Nagaraja Kapahito Zumahas Nanahesa Sugelandra Tliyisht Tapotobo
Alright, I'll probably hold off from writing about the rest of the Saurian races for a while. Now for a little bit of out-of-universe lore. I don't really have a scooby as to why I'd be writing this kind of stuff in all honesty. It all sort of started out with me disliking how inhuman, inhuman in the wrong way in my personal opinion, the Lizardmen felt. Don't get me wrong, their visual design is wonderful, and I love that about them, how truly distinct from the rest of the "humanoid" species they are. It's just that their lore and characterization felt off to me. 1. A Song of Reproduction, Growth, and Stagnation: I always disliked the whole "Born from Spawning Pools" aspect of Lizardmen lore for whatever reason. I never knew why until very recently when I began getting back into WHFB. I feel like it always restricted their mobility not just as a species, but as a lore piece within the greater narrative of the setting. Perhaps if Spawning Pools could be something they could construct whenever they feel the need to expand, I might have been a lot more amicable to the idea. But no, they simply cannot recreate them in most situations. To me this felt like a rehash of the whole "Dying Mesoamerican Civilization", but with lizards and magic water. They cannot, and will not for whatever reason, seek to establish new cities, at least not without the benefits of having a working Spawning Pool at their disposal. I know that most temple cities were not solely built for the habitation of the First Children, but also for the alignment of the Geomantic Web congruent with the Great Plan's schematics, but that felt like a lame and mysterious copout to me personally. And so we're left with a civilization that is just forced into a downward spiral of death and stagnation, at least without the direct supervision of the Slann. To me, that makes them feel a lot more disconnected to the rest of the world, like they aren't some true player in the universe's story. Sure they've had a lot of influence surrounding its history, but in the present, they're just there, not really doing much unless one of the other factions goes to them instead of the other way around. I know about the Shadow Over Albion Campaign in which the Lizardmen actually do establish a new city, but from what I've been able to gather about it they never seem to elaborate on what that meant exactly. Does this mean they were able to reconfigure the design of the Spawning Pools, thus allowing for their construction yet again? Or, by nature of Albion being a land heavily teemed with Old One devices, just had an older temple city present, one which the Slann reactivated by a seemingly random plot device? Who knows, maybe not even the writers at the time knew, and if they did they never told us. 2. The Human Inside the Inhuman: I know this has been something that most people have said once or twice on these forums, and there are probably a lot of reasons as to claim this is wrong but, the Lizardmen have always felt so robotic to me. As is evident by a number of the older Fluff here on the site, a lot of stories are told from the perspective of Skinks. By nature of being one of the two "mortal" Lizardmen castes, the Skinks are often characterized as being a lot more human in their interactions with not only other peoples but as well as between one another. And even then, they're not really like us. And that's okay, that's fine, that's what makes them beloved and a fan favorite. What I do disagree with is the extent of this alienness to which the rest of the Lizardmen act. The Saurus and the Slann are perhaps the worst offenders of this aspect to their lore, which feels like a missed opportunity in my opinion. While I'm not saying we should perfectly appellate human perspectives and feelings onto the Lizardmen, rather it might be more interesting as to treat the Lizardmen as a sort of distorted mirror in regards to the warmblood races. They feel love, but not on the individual scale, but on a collective scale, treating their respective society as a whole as something more akin to how we view our own direct family. They are compassionate, but in the same vein that an older sibling is. They'll do things the younger races wouldn't understand nor care about, seemingly at their own detriment even, and sometimes they'll appear standoffish and uncaring, but the Lizardmen do see the worth within other peoples of Malus. After all, the warmbloods were made by the Old Ones for a reason. The Lizardmen would wish to see their masters' wish be made to fruition, no matter how stubborn their counterparts may be. =============================================================================================================== There are a few other things I could probably think of in regards to their lore that I personally don't agree with, but that's all for now since I can't seem to think of anything more. (It'll probably come back to me at an inopportune time) But I suppose that will be it, for now, see you in the next post!
"Motherly Ropsamaniya, she is besieged on all sides, not by the Norskiye, not by the Sigmaryens, and not even by the Trolle and Orkmen, instead she be assailed by those bands of Trogii whose numbers are without end, I hope that one day the forests shall be cleared of their lot." Armaril Aleksi, Roppsmenn Mercenary, and Bandit =================================================================================================================== The Kaempas, Traitors of the Dawn Across the ancient expanse of northerly Remwall, composed of the sisterly territories of Norsca and Kislev, are nations that are inhabited by a variety of equally elder peoples, more so than the likes of mankind. From the dour clans of the dwarfs to those dysfunctional gangs of greenskins and trolls, the northern reaches of Remwall are claimed proudly by such warring cultures, their belligerence thus enshrouding the region within an eternal war of supremacy. However, betwixt the bloodshed of such murderous folk, there resides an animalistic race that has long predated all other denizens of the frigid North. While not a singular folk with any predominant nation among them, these peoples are able to recognize one another for their shared heritage and customs, and thus refer to themselves as the Kaempas, the kindred-wyrms. Possessed of ophidian origins that lie towards a forgotten epoch, as such their collective culture is distinct from the likes of those similarly bestial followers of Anathema. For as opposed to the Gorkin who waylay civilization, preying upon the desperate and the damned, the Saurians of northern Remwall are viewed through a separate, yet still monstrous reputation across the lands endemic with their presence. Written in the annals of the Roppsmenn and the Ungols, of the Gospodars and the Norscans, it is said that whenever Chaos may engender its corruptive essence upon the tundras, these reptiles march forward bearing martial intent in their step, unrelenting until the daemon has been at last vanquished. Their many battles with the foul creatures of Anathema have gone down as the talk of legends all across fair Kislev and blighted Norsca, impairing great fear and even greater respect for the Kaempas among their warm-blooded neighbors. For while they be a reclusive bunch, held up within their evergreen villages and mountainous fortresses, these Saurians are yet willing to give up on the world and its inhabitants, ready to fight until the last embers of their spirit become blown out by the chill of Chaos. It is this inclination to hunt those entities of the adjacent dimension that ultimately displays the origins of the race straight and center. For in truth, the Kaempas are all that remain of the Old Ones' great empire within this region of the Old World. Ruling those elder cities of silver and stone, their venerated magician-kings remain unchallenged by the return of fetid Anathema, continuing to uphold those sacred magics that had once shaped the very earth itself. Even among the more uneducated of their kind, of the mundane warriors who wander the taigas and steppes with belligerent abandon, they too dedicate themselves to the eradication of all things that are unsightly to the vision of the Great Plan. This subservience to the Old Ones began upon the arrival of a golden fleet from the heavens, such alien expeditionaries then vassalizing the likes of the ancestral Kaempas through a show of technological might. Thus were these Saurians counted among the earliest citizens of their new global dominion, receiving entry as supplicants beneath the benevolence of their new masters. By the will of those gods ever sublime, the Kaempas then erected a multitude of lavish temples across their frigid homeland, doing so with the utmost dedication in their work. Surrounding these newly established points of worship, did cities begin to emerge upon the steppes of the ancient North, showcasing the peoples' need to surround themselves in the worship of their idols. It was for this devotion to the new gods, alongside their proximity to the great ice-capped wastes, were the Kaempas thus chosen as to toil directly under their stellar lords, undertaking the construction of the Polar Gares. As consequence, the Kaempas waged countless wars with the likes of those dissident kindred and their Dragon Ogres masters who stalked the polar deserts, their homes being always under threat by those warriors of Anathema. As such, the Old Ones saw to it that their followers be taught the many magics that constituted their power, elevating the Kaempas from the world of benign witchery, and into the ranks of sacred geomancers. So began a golden age for these northerly Saurians as they would then seek to benefit greatly from their newly acquired knowledge not only through methods of warfare, but as well enacting great civil projects the likes of which could be scarce replicated even by the modern Kaempas. They then spread this knowledge across the decentralized empire of their gods, becoming valued artisans, architects, and laborers within the similarly vassal states of their reptilian ilk, serving the differing alien pantheons across the earth. However, such tutelage would prove itself to be a slight fumble on part of the Old Ones, for their Kaempas grew ever arrogant in the face of their divine mandate, eventually leading to the war of the First Revolt. This event shook the very core of their dominion nigh-infallible, for it was unheard of for any mortal to dare rise up against the will of the Old Ones. One by one, every city endemic of the Kaempas would march their armies defiantly against the domains of their alien overlords, seeking to upend the laws that confined them to the roles of menial servitude. The rebelling Saurians were, of course, nigh-totally destroyed at the hands of their vindictive gods, their proud homeland reduced to a smoldering ruin by the might of the golden fleets. Such brutality served as a warning to not just the Kaempas solely, but to all others subject beneath the Old Ones who would dare seek out their sovereignty away from the rule of their one and only masters. The punished natives of the land renewed their allegiances to the gods, fearful of their wrath lest they once more invite armageddon into their households. Only this time, they were revoked of the privileges they once enjoyed, and their position within the global hierarchy now diminished from where they once stood, seen as no more than middling slaves in the eyes of their neighbors. Even their holdings had lost the grandeur of their initial designs, their cities now without walls to protect them, their construction thus forbidden by the cruelty of the Old Ones who sought to declaw their mortal pets. The troubles of the Kaempas, however, only grew worse from there, as the Polar Gates would come crashing down either by some faulty design on part of none other than themselves or through the cunning machinations of Chaos and its malignant followers. It matters not really, for soon the Old Ones had fled, leaving their followers behind to suffer the onset of the daemon hosts immeasurable. Among the first victims of these terrible armies were of course the Kaempas who lived closest to where the Polar Gates were to be ordained, spreading panic across the population at large. While their defenses were too meager as to protect them from this rising danger, among the survivors of the First Revolt there were still those individuals who retained the mighty arts of geomancy, thus allowing the Kaempas to hold back the otherworldly tides for a moment's grace, giving time for the rest of their stranded empire to begin mobilizing across the globe. Though these great magicians were soon to fall, the power that surged through their bodies being too much as to handle, their people would persevere throughout this blighted storm just as all the other Saurian races would. They thus abandoned the plains of their homeland, migrating to the mountains and forests, to the caverns and wetlands, there they would lead a guerilla war against the murderous throngs of daemons, refusing to capitulate so easily. When at last the Asur conceived the mighty Vortex and so the rift between worlds was then sealed, the Kaempas were all but gone, their numbers depleted so thoroughly that only a scant few primitive families remained, hidden among the mountains of Norsca and Kislev. Their absence would thus lead to the lands they since inhabited to be settled by those warm-blooded races, from the men, halflings, and ogres, to even the likes of the elderly elfs and dwarfs. Soon there came the might of the fungal greenskin and trolls, of which would then forever plague the lands they had come to inhabit. Thus, for generations were the Kaempas confined to their mountainous homes, forced to be content knowing that they would remain there for the longest time, forcing them to adapt within the earthen dark of the mountains. It was only recently did their presence become once again known throughout the lands of Kislev and Norsca, their return bearing different meanings for those differing peoples they encountered. Though not a singular nation with a united goal in mind, collectively the Kaempas have grown ever bolder and more dangerous when met by their foreign neighbors. They send forth their armies from the misty peaks that dot the land, destroying those warmbloods who dare encroach upon their remaining territories. Commanding terrible storms, they wash over the villages of those intruders, leaving behind sallow marshes in their wake, ones which they quickly claim for their own settling. For this they are reviled, seen as no better than the forces of the murderous greenskins who are belligerent seemingly for no purpose other than to wage war. Regardless, the Kaempas themselves hold no care for the opinions of their neighbors, knowing well that the lands of Norsca and Kislev rightfully belong to them. =================================================================================================================== Edit: Will be soon working on another post for the rest of the Saurians, alongside a general summary Upcoming Cultures: Skogi Taipanpama Yau-Kuai Mogoibaser Nyokabinad Azremite Nagaraja Kapahito Zumahas Nanahesa Sugelandra Tliyisht Tapotobo
Just as a heads up for this will work, I'll be editing each post respective to their Saurian culture, so hopefully, there isn't a character limit for replies. Expect things like history, language, constituent ethnicities, diet, and other nerdy statistics like that to appear when I'm done posting all the races.
"Though they are benign in both spirit and form, these Sarauglir, as my late cousin had come to call them, are truly a menace upon the colonies coastal or otherwise, for they are similar to the rest of the scaled races, waging war in honor of some dead gods." Synukr ec Jedegas, Har-Ganethisch settler of Kynth-Lagh =================================================================================================================== The Skogi, Children of the Warpath In the landmass once proclaimed Hakiselug, now dubbed as Naggaroth by decree of the With-King's expansionist endeavors, there to the massifs and hillocks, within the glades and fenlands, and even across the prairie and wastes, there lives within these landscapes a reptilian people not unlike the city-folk of Yextamundaro to the south. While they are possessed of a nigh-uncountable myriad of tribal entities, the collective cultures of this race are united in their shared vision of the past, of the ancient myths that bind their genesis. Their parochial Matrons, of whom are blessed by the goddess Cayo-Hirig, describe vividly those events of their ancestral histories, telling of a time when alien gods fought against one another in a titanic clash for supremacy upon a world that was not their own. Yet, even before the forces of Order and Chaos laid the foundations for their terrible war, the archaic Skogi were already defined as a distinct identity among the many races of the Saurian species, wandering idly across that primeval supercontinent they had called Tolbatule. For it was during this time did they live in sacred communion with the Star-Gods of old, this elder pantheon having thus predated the rise of Cayo-Hirig and her mortal avatars. The Skogi, for their child-like loyalty to the gods, were awarded with glimpses of the future, prescribed to them by those constellations up within the heavens unknowable. These omens had forbidden them to settle in any singular land, for the stars told them that one day, there would come a great enemy so mighty and terrible that their tyranny would wash over the earth itself. So were the Skogi ordained to travel the whole of Tolbatule's width, meeting time and time again the many peoples of each land they visited, yet none of which shared their supplicancy for the celestial icons. Their histories tell that there were times they would be looked upon with a hated reputation, for just as their neighbors did not conform to their own methods of worship, so too did Skogi not adhere to those spiritual norms of the epoch. With an absolution so sincere, the these Saurians paid no heed to the words of Dragons, nor to the wills of the ephemeral dead, and not even to the spirits of the flora and fauna. Only to the heavens did they muse their prayers for, proving insular in the face of those others who professed differing faiths. Thus, the most harrowing of their condemnations began upon the rise of the imperial theocracy of Payasechuwin, a force that ruled nigh-all of Tolbatule with an iron grip. Subservient to their living god-kings, all other forms of spiritual practice were to be outlawed and ridiculed within this burgeoning state, perceived as a blatant disregard for the divine prerogative of their lords most supreme. The Skogi were, of course, one of the countless peoples sought after by such martial zealots, the likes of their cloth being nigh-totally wiped from the mortal plane. Not even their dead would know peace after such tortured oppression, for their spirits would be given up to the likes of the god-kings of Payasechuwin. Thus, Skogi prayed ceaselessly in those places where they may harbor their vestige of a community, hiding within those lawless lands that escaped the reach of their enemies. Here they beseeched their gods for salvation in the face of their terrible persecution, crying out for even a shred of mercy. Their hope soon came in the form of a fleet of golden vessels that descended from the heavens. These strangers, of which the Skogi believed to be their gods ever undeniable, proved instead to be a collection of celestial beings who sought to claim the planet of Munda as their own. They came to be known through names among the number of Saurian peoples across the globe, some more thought of with revulsion than others. Among the forebears of the Itzatecah, they came to be known as the Itzatlatoani, the First Kings. To the likes of the forever-dammed Fimirul, these beings are remembered in myth as the Tuathe de'Olc, the Scourge Tribe. Such terminology is rather trivial, for regardless of what one may call these beings, all Saurians recognized them to be a force worth fearing. They destroyed Payasechuwin and all its neighbors, laying to waste those things who did not conform to their demands of vassalage. They assailed the likes of Dragonkind, nearly bringing them to their heels as their numbers became reduced and localized to those places that stood outside of this alien dominion. Yet, the Skogi could do no more than rejoice and yield to this brazen force, aiding them in their conquests across the globe and beyond. Even after the sundering of Tolbatule and the terrible destruction that came with it, wrought by the geomantic energies as were compelled by the Old Ones, those Saurians who had beheld themselves to the stars remained enamored with the entry of their new lords. The Skogi allowed themselves to be beckoned upon their every behest, building great cities in alignment with the schematics of the Great Plan now laid before them. In doing so they would set forth from their homes raising high the standard of war, bringing upon the peoples who had dared persecute their ancestors in the past a pain ever familiar. Such an era was not meant to last, however, for soon the Polar Gates would come crashing down upon the North and the South, releasing onto the world a cacophony of Anathema storm. The Old Ones fled and the skies became blackened and shrouded in storm, barring the Skogi from looking up to the cosmos as they had done so long ago. Thus rose a new god among them, a prophetess who was destined to shed her mortal coils in response to the invasion of Chaos. She led her people into the wastes which burned with the bale energies of the adjacent dimension, pruning her flock of the weak and affirming those members who were strong. They would remain here for a time, fighting and dying until finally, their prophetess laid gestate long enough within that realm of bloodshed and horror in order to become a proper deity. She took on the name of Cay-Hirig, and led her people from the realms of Chaos, emerging from the wastes as a war-queen now destined to retake the homeland of her kin from the likes of foolish warmbloods. =================================================================================================================== Edit: Will be soon working on another post for the rest of the Saurians, alongside a general summary Upcoming Cultures: Taipanpama Yau-Kuai Mogoibaser Nyokabinad Azremite Nagaraja Kapahito Zumahas Nanahesa Sugelandra Tliyisht Tapotobo
Now that I feel somewhat sufficient in our current roster, I will most likely take the weekend off to begin editing and expanding the (supposedly) brief summaries I wrote for our current Saurians. The pain of a writer is you'll rarely feel satisfied with your work
Yay! I did it, I finalized the current roster summaries! Now it's time to continue on with the rest of the newer Saurians... Wippee