Primal Blood

No cities, no borders, no boundaries of any kind. The tribes of the Primal Blood roam the lands of Paxos but do not call it home. They do not, in fact, call any land their home. Although the other nations of Selejia tend to assign Paxos as the dominion of the “blood clans”, they do not recognize it as a true nation, for the clans don’t have a recognizable governmental structure and war amongst themselves as often as they do with others, if not more. Nevertheless, when dealing with any of the “savages”, the Conclave, the Legion, or any of the independent city-states tends to find it best to assign these wild, dangerous lands to the Primal Blood. In doing so, they frame the clans of the Primal Blood in a context they can understand and also impart a sense of “justice” to whatever deal they are trying to make. All of these are laughable notions to any child of the Warrior-Prophet if you can even explain the ideas to them at all.

Contrary to the beliefs of many who have dealt with them, the members of this faction are not “too savage” to understand the notion of nations, borders, or private property. The Primal Blood simply exists in defiance of all of these concepts. They do not restrain themselves to Paxos, but roam all of Selejia like a tidal wave, following nothing but the flow of nature and the Will of Octna. They take what they need or desire because they are capable of it. If it was not to be so, then the currents of fate would have taken them elsewhere or their enemies would have bested them. It is inconceivable to them to say that something belongs to a person if that person is incapable of protecting it. To claim ownership over something is to invite challenge to that claim. The Primal Blood does not claim any place in Selejia as their home, for much the same reasons. A common saying within the clans is: “A tharok beast can hold no more land than the ground it stands on. And then it takes a step.”

Although considered a “Faction”, the several clans of the Primal Blood are divided and have been since the departure of Octna, the Warrior-Prophet that freed them from servitude and saved them from the Fall. The nations of the world of today are particularly grateful for that, because the Primal Blood is, by far, the most numerous faction on the continent. No one knows their exact numbers, but whenever they tire of infighting and turn their gaze north toward Dynas or east toward any of the other civilized territories, the ground rumbles as the warbands charge through. The unification of the Primal Blood is at the core of their central myth but is now considered nothing more than a distant dream by many. The same philosophy of might over right that grants the blood clans their strength prevents them from unifying. They are a willful people who will only follow into battle the most powerful among them, the Takra of Stone. Each clan will have its own Takra of Stone, and only when one of them has the will and power to conquer and subsume other clans can a great warband form. Unfortunately, every great leader is by definition a target to their own followers, as all warriors must strive to become the mightiest. Many of the great Takra have fallen to the blades of their sons, as have died under the wall shadows of Astaris, trying to force their way north.

The clans of the Primal Blood did once march under a single banner, with a singular purpose. Before the Fall, many different people toiled under the rule of the Astarian Paradux. They had all been brought here by the command of the rulers of Osterath when their kingdoms were defeated in war. The rulers of the Golden Empire had expanded their borders many times over, proving their superiority through military force. Some of these ancient kingdoms joined the Astarian Paradux, like brothers and sisters, but others had so offended them by resisting that they were utterly destroyed, living on only in the memories of the few survivors. These are the people that were brought to Osterath, to serve there for seven generations and so pay for the crimes of their ancestors. The orcs were the most numerous of them and also the only ones who had never forgotten their homeland. They kept it alive through the stories the old ones told around the fire, tales that were passed down from father to daughter and from mother to son. They were tales of the many accomplishments of their people, of the heroes who had conquered the skies and wrestled the mountains into submission, forcing them to spill out the deep flame for their forges. The Astarians had made efforts to make the people forget where they had come from, so that the ones who had defied them so vehemently would submit to their rule. They outlawed their language and destroyed their belongings, trying to erase any trace of who they once were. Much was lost during this time, but try as they might, a story is a powerful living thing, like a great beast that cannot be easily killed. In the years preceding the Fall, Octna would give these stories the sharpest of fangs and set them loose upon the Astarians.

Octna had once been a servant in the temple that guarded the Heart of Avakra, an Everlasting Relic that the stories told had belonged to his people in a time before the Astarians, before the orcs had their original name stripped from them. Osterath had used the power of its stolen Relics for centuries, growing ever more powerful, and ever more covetous. Octna had grown on the half-remembered stories of a lost homeland and dreamed of the day his people’s punishment would end, but very early on he learned this freedom would never come to pass. They had been so humiliated, so stripped of their culture and heritage that even with the many tales still remembered, the orcs, the Blood of Avakra, were fading into the mire of the Astarian Paradux. Many had so assimilated that they would not know what to do with themselves when freedom came. As legend tells, he approached the Heart one night, the last remnant of the Oerikan kingdom that had birthed his kind, and beseeched it for guidance. That night, the Relic, which had been mostly silent under the rule of Osterath, reverberated as it had done in the old stories. Octna didn’t hear it speak, as much as he felt it in his very blood. The Heart of Avakra revealed to him the true story of his people, the heights their society had reached, and how the Astarians had struck them down. It revealed to him the ancient laws of his people, the Balance of the Blade. It also revealed to him a great tragedy that was to come. Armed with this knowledge, Octna would lead his people in a rebellion against Osterath, at its lowest moment, when it was sieged at the end of the Age of Relics. In the time Osterath most needed their help, most of the orcs had absconded away from the city, their ancestral birthright, the Heart of Avakra, vanishing with them.   

When Octna marched away from Osterath that day, he not only took with him the orcs but also people of any other ancestry that had been subjugated by the Astarians. These people were initiated in the path of the Primal Blood, making vows that they, their children, and their children’s children would follow the Balance of the Blade. Knowing in his blood that a cataclysm approached, he also ordered that the young of Osterath, who had lost their parents in battle, be adopted into the clans, for they had no fault in the suffering of his people. To this day, the clans of the Primal Blood continue this tradition of taking in strays and outcasts left by their raids. As long as they prove themselves, they are accepted into the fold just like any blood relative would be. This is why today, the Primal Blood presents the most diverse ancestry, and the group contains mostly orcs, but also humans, elves, dwarves, and many other people in a lesser quantity. With how prone to battle they are and how harshly they live their lives, this is also a way to keep up their immense numbers.

Although they do not consider Paxos their realm, this is the place where they can most readily be found. Almost no place on the continent is safe from incursion by their hunting parties, but Paxos is considered somewhat sacred ground. Somewhere within the forests of Paxos sits the only permanent settlement the Primal Blood can boast of. There, the various Takra of Spirit of the clans gather to commune with the Heart of Avakra. By doing this they learn of things that have happened and of things that are yet to be. They also attune themselves to the elements and the spirits of the land, so that their will can be made manifest. While Octna still walked among his people, he had the heart secreted away so that it could never be stolen again, and there are members of the clans who still dedicate themselves to the protection of this secret. In over a thousand years since the Fall, no outsider has ever seen the Heart and lived to tell about it.

Outsiders who are practitioners of the magic arts may find themselves baffled by how the Vision Shamans and other members of the Primal Blood deal with magic. The Order sees magic as a Sacred thing, bestowed by the Everlasting, and that must be used in a particular way, or risk the same corruption that the Legion incurs and that the Conclave flirts with. The Conclave has an almost scientific approach to magic, seeking to understand its roots so that they can reproduce it. To them, predictability is everything as they use spell formulae, magical items, and Liastrum to manifest spells that have been thoroughly tested. The Primal Blood treats magic like a battle, and they thrive in the chaos. For a lot of them, it comes naturally. A battle cry may manifest an effect that bolsters allies or frightens enemies, while a ground stomp may shatter the landscape with the force of an earthquake. For the Vision Shamans, the power of magic comes from the stories they know. The tale of an ancestor wrestling lightning from a storm to strike down a great beast can be invoked as if the Shaman is telling that story to the very skies and having the universe perform it. For a common warrior blessed with natural talent or a Vision Shaman who spent years learning the tales left behind by Octna, magic is a struggle between the living soul and the material world. They attune themselves to nature, at the Heart of Avakra, not to better follow its whims but to command it to bow before their might. Submit or be destroyed is a common theme for the clans.

Octna departed almost a millennia ago, promising to find the path to the ancient Oerikan kingdom, the fabled land of the old stories. The location had been lost to time, and only a vague sense of direction could be gleaned from the stories. North. Their homeland lies somewhere north of the Dynas region, the last enclave of the Astarians on the continent. Octna knew that to break through there would require the sacrifice of many of his people, and so decided to find another path. Although he prophesied his return, he would never be seen again, and the people lost hope over the years. Eventually, the clans broke away from each other due to infighting, as the mightiest warriors and most powerful shamans battled for the place that Octna had left vacant. To this day, none have been able to unite all the clans as he once had, although many have tried. Every single great chieftain that has united the clans since Octna has done so by promising to do what the Warrior-Prophet could not. They each defeated a number of other clan leaders and then declared a great march north, through the great wall of Astaris and the land of Dynas. The false prophets, as they would later be known, have clashed against the walls of their former oppressors time and time again, and have been proven too weak to carry on the mantle of leadership. More often than not they are killed by their own subordinates when the losses of the armies become so great that the folly that was clear to Octna, becomes clear to the young ones who didn’t heed the old stories. 

Their combined efforts against the Order may be misguided and doomed to failure, but the individual clans actually have a long and bloody history of success. While the Order excels at organized war, dominating the logistics necessary to field tens of thousands of soldiers, the Primal Blood excels at the chaos of war. A single raiding group is extremely mobile and brutal in its attacks, and a single clan may have various hunting or raiding parties ready to strike. The Order and even other factions may beat the Primal Blood in conventional warfare, but the clan’s methods have nothing conventional about them. The Primal Blood will raid caravans that travel the Golden Road that leads to Dynas, and they will also attack settlements great and small. They will attack several different sites at the same time, knowing that no matter how strong their enemies’ defenses may be, they cannot be everywhere at once. They do so with reckless abandon that is difficult for conventionally trained soldiers to even fathom. The Primal Blood strikes fast and viciously, and when caught in a bad position they behave like a wolf caught in a trap, willing to sacrifice a leg so that the fangs may yet strike again. A warrior who has been bested and has no way out will fight to the death rather than risk the humiliation of capture. This often leads to the deaths of at least half a dozen enemies. Until the last drop of blood has been shed, a warrior of the clans will still have some fight inside.

Largely uninterested in Relics other than the Heart of Avakra, things have shifted within the Primal Blood recently. After centuries of infighting, the shamans have all at once started to read the signs. In the bones and entrails of their prey, the Primal Blood finds a new prophecy and a new path forward. Over the millennia many have claimed to be Octna reborn, in a vain attempt of uniting the clans. Their falsehood was proved by their quick and bloody death, but there are those in recent times who have defied death time and time again. There is one who cannot be killed and one who has faced death and returned. There may yet be others, but the shamans say that the truth can only be revealed in the cursed lands of their servitude. Only inside the Malediction, where Octna first led the people, can his true heir be revealed. Only by journeying to the heart of the place they fled from, can the Primal Blood find a path forward. As the rush for the Relics starts, the entire continent watches as the children of Octna march as one and remembers that the last time this happened an empire fell.