Bloodhorn
Bloodhorn, one of the 8 Nations
Though the Morvaren quietly concluded that the Virborne had failed to achieve their purpose, they did not seek their destruction. With characteristic detachment, the Raven Wardens simply abandoned the project, allowing the transformed peoples to leave their laboratories and make whatever lives they could beyond civilization. The experiment, they believed, had reached its end. The rest of the world reached a far harsher conclusion.
The Virborne were stronger, hardier, and far more aggressive than ordinary peoples. Tribes clashed with settlements, raids became commonplace, and fear spread fast. To most of the Empire, the green-skinned peoples were not just mysterious new races but a plague with unknown origins.
The Ravens watched with new interest in how their experiment would fare.
Hunts became campaigns. Campaigns became wars of extermination. Entire tribes were enslaved, scattered, or driven ever deeper into the wastelands that lay beyond the reach of civilization.
Generations passed beneath persecution. The Virborne came to know the Empire not as the cradle of their ancestors, but as the hand that hunted them.
The Fire Wardens from inside the Naja saw what the Morvaren had overlooked. Before them stood not failed experiments, but a vast people hardened by suffering and united by a common enemy. The Empire had spent generations teaching the Virborne whom to hate. They needed only to give that hatred purpose.
Zurn, the chief fire warden, entered the wastes not as a conqueror with the fire wardens, but as patrons. They claimed the Virborne as their own, offering leadership where there had been only scattered tribes and a cause greater than mere survival. They knit the virborne into their society of already savage frontier raiders. The Bull banner rose over the wastelands, forging countless clans of orcs, goblins and even trolls into a single people. Their rage was turned toward the Empire that had sought their extinction united behind their new queen.
To the Cobra, the Bloodhorn were more than allies. They were proof.
If the Empire judged worth by inheritance, then the rejected would overthrow the chosen. If civilization called them monsters, then monsters would lay siege to civilization itself.
The Great Siege had become inevitable long before the first army marched
The Bull
The Bull are the heart of Bloodhorn civilization and the undisputed masters of the Ash Wastes. Vast nomadic clans of orcs, trolls, and other great beasts roam the open plains beneath towering crimson banners, following migrating herds and the endless promise of glorious battle. Their settlements are temporary gatherings of immense hide tents, bone fortresses, and massive war camps that can appear and vanish within days. Strength is law, and every chief must continually prove their right to lead through conquest, courage, and personal might. Their armies are terrifying spectacles of raw aggression—endless waves of heavily armed orc warriors charging beside towering trolls while drums shake the earth beneath their feet. Veteran warlords ride armored triceratops into battle as living battering rams, packs of snarling wargs race ahead to tear apart enemy lines, and handlers release frenzied hunting raptors moments before the main assault, throwing defenders into chaos before the horde crashes upon them. To the Bull, war is not merely survival—it is the purest expression of strength, honor, and freedom.
The Hyena
Where the Bull rule the surface, the Hyena rule everything beneath it. Their civilization stretches through a labyrinth of immense caverns, forgotten ruins, volcanic tunnels, and winding passages hidden beneath the cracked wastes. Entire goblin cities thrive underground, connected by tunnels known only to their riders. The Hyena are masters of ambush, raiding, and disappearance, striking with terrifying speed before melting back into the earth long before retaliation can arrive. Nearly every warrior fights from the back of a swift warg, allowing entire warbands to cover impossible distances across the wastes before vanishing into hidden sinkholes and narrow crevices too small for larger foes to pursue. They rarely seek fair battles, preferring to exhaust, isolate, and overwhelm vulnerable enemies through relentless harassment. Caravans disappear overnight, frontier forts wake to find their supplies stolen, and entire armies have marched confidently into the wastes only to slowly vanish one regiment at a time. Their banners inspire unease rather than fear—for wherever the Hyena are seen, countless more are almost certainly watching from below.
The Shark
The Shark command the oceans with unmatched brutality, transforming the Bloodhorn into a threat far beyond the wastes. Their black-hulled fleets descend upon coastlines with little warning, their ram-prowed quadriremes smashing through enemy ships before boarding parties erupt into savage close-quarters combat. Every voyage is a hunt, every coastline an opportunity for plunder, slaves, and glory. Their floating strongholds and pirate havens are built upon hidden islands, sea caves, and volcanic harbors where countless captured vessels are stripped, repaired, or added to ever-growing fleets. Discipline aboard a Shark vessel is absolute, for hesitation means death, but every captain earns command only through fearless aggression and successful raids. While the Bull break kingdoms from the front and the Hyena bleed them from within, the Shark strangle trade, burn ports, seize merchant fleets, and remind every coastal people that nowhere beyond the horizon is safe. To them, the sea belongs only to those strong enough to take it.
