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What exactly are these places, and how do they fit into the bigger picture of what's going on here? A simple introduction is in order, starting with the one which looks over all the rest.

The Umbrous Steppes, colloquially known as the Steppes of Dubh, or the Black Steppes, are so named because of their unusual tendency to host a great variety of forested environments despite their relatively high altitude and frigid climate. The foliage casts a shadow on the slopes of this place more often than not, and so have gone so far as to seemingly determine its name.

Some consider this an awkward or unfitting moniker, especially when concerned with the actual colors of the flora and fauna living therewithin. The shadows here may not yet hide the beauty and vibrancy of some, including the stout, blossoming bushes and trees of berries, or the beds of mountain flowers so chromatically stark one might think they'd just stepped into a fairy ring and joined the fair folks' chronic celebrations. Similarly, so, the fungi which straddle ancient oak and rise from the deadfall and glow in the dimmest forest floor cannot be blamed for the land's namesake. Nor does shadow hide the flash of white on the tail of highland deer while they spring from danger, or the dappled coats of endemic wolves, wargs, and wildcats which also call this place their home. Perhaps the reason the shadows are what lingers in the minds of those who name these lands is because of how it all looks at night. Though the stars, moon, and whirling spectacle of auroral lights dance evermore to illuminate the earth here, not a spot of that light can be found by the few bold enough to brave this wilderness after sunset.

Or, as others have pointed out, perhaps it is the orcen-kind, of complexions ranging from ashen grey to coal-black, that are responsible for the name. Yes, the mountain orcs of the Umbrous Steppes, with many a ferocious tribe-name and an even more ferocious reputation; perhaps they are the reason these steppes are named so! There are many accounts of travelers finding friendly clans in the hills, willing to shelter or guide them in harrowing times. However, more commonly, stories of brutal attacks by merciless warriors on the backs of rabid wargs are what fill the taverns of men that live nearby. As such, these steppes are treated with wariness and respect; after all, it is difficult for even the keenest of eyes to determine the intentions of a distant orcish band when a blizzard or dense fog has rolled in.

Whatever the reality may be, a history of warfare between the tribes and the lowland human kingdom of Ruis has tainted the former's reputation in the eyes of humans and their allies.

The Weeping Gully is a geographical barrier between the Umbrous Steppes and the Forest of Ruis. Although there are no formal borders recognized by the human realm and orcish tribes, one might almost acknowledge the gully as an unofficial one. It sits at the western base of the Steppes, where mountainous streams pour themselves out into it. The collection of mountain water has eaten away at the area over millennia, eventually forming a mighty river that courses south, far beyond the reaches of either environment or territory. Many peoples will visit either side of the river for fishing, riverside hunting, and drinking water. In times of plenty there is often peace; when the highland rains fail and the waters grow shallow, however... war is often the result. This isn't to say that no war taints the river in times of plenty, for kings and chieftains alike will pursue their own selfish agendas, but it is much harder to cross the river when it has glutted itself on rainfall. Nevermind the notion of transporting entire armies over its breadth.

There are some bridges that have been built in recent years, of nothing less than the sturdiest of stones, which serve as a relatively safe passage for wanderers to go as they please. Their existence will nonetheless be imperiled when the waters once again run too high-- or too low, for it is not unheard of for defensive warlords to destroy them in times of tension and conflict. They have survived for at least ten years, however, as the lands surrounding them have long since settled into peace.

The Forest of Ruis (within the Kingdom of Ruis) is what men call the lowlands just west of the Weeping Gully. Similarly to the eastern slopes, some consider this name a misnomer. Surely, there are many woodlands to be found here, alive with beautifully verdant flora and lively colonies of animals such as squirrels, deer, bears, wolves, foxes, lynxes, polecats, and others. However, there are also many clearings; some are formed naturally by rockier soils which tree roots struggle to permeate, while others are man-made, for the sake of gathering lumber and creating farmlands. In the more natural of these meadows, one may still find a variety of creatures such as wild horses, burrowing rodents, birds of prey, more foxes and wolves, badgers, wild dogs, and many more species. During spring, the wealth of plants that dot the landscape rival or exceed those found in the highlands. If it were not for the telltale signs of dirt roads and plowed land, where humble serfs eke out their own modest living, these territories would be ideal for settling. Some clans of non-humans nonetheless travel throughout the woods or settle in the meadowy hills, where either they defend themselves from human interference or coexist with them on friendlier terms.

Do not take these exceptions as any example of who claims these lands, however; for in the heart of the lowland forests there stands a mighty castle, surrounded by a city in the late stages of repair and expansion. This city, the capital of Ruis and the epicenter of local human power, is known as Caerbryn. Here live the humans that rule over this kingdom, and they are historically inclined to stamp out potential rivals regardless of the latter's ken.

The humans that call Ruis their home are a sturdy lot, of short stature and broad shoulders. Scholars attest these traits to their agricultural livelihoods, or to their weapons of choice; the bow and spear, respectively. Renowned for their husbandry of a unique collection of horse breeds, and for their love of living in villages sheltered by ancient trees, Ruis-men and women are friendly to most travelers, so long as they are not of the eastern Steppes or loyal to rival kingdoms. Therefore, it is not the most unusual thing to find humans of other lands settled in these ones, or humanoids for that matter. The forests are a home to many, and all but the most remote of villages welcome guests.


The answer is straightforward. About twenty years prior, the last Highland War came to a tragic conclusion. Led by a doomsaying prophet known as Mael'o Inifernach, several large tribes of the Steppes traveled to the lowlands, laying waste to the human territories between them and Caerbryn. The prophet attested that, through visions and confluences with the ancient spirits, the blame for a recent famine fell on the shoulders of the human royalty. After forty days of brutal siege and failed assaults, the invaders managed to breach their enemies' defenses. What a bloody day it was, filled with deeds inhumane from either side. The day and another yet passed before the fighting was through; the human defenders had just barely grasped victory from their attackers, at no small cost in life and limb. The king of the humans, Cathal the Blue, lost his life in the process. Just as well, Mael'o Inifernach was found among the fallen attackers, struck down by arrows during a most peculiar ritual. Most of the city was in ruins by the time the siege was broken. The surviving human warriors ventured forth to ensure that no orcen-kind would tarry on their way home, and in the process they reclaimed the lands that were conquered earlier in the war. Prisoners were taken by either side, and some still live in conditions directly resulting from the war twenty years prior.

This would have been the end of the tale, save for one crucial detail. On the way back home, one of Mael'o's most loyal followers, called Dubh'cu, would attempt to complete the rites his leader had left undone back in Caerbryn. Whether or not the rite he performed was successfully the same as Mael'o's has been hotly debated since then, but the consequences cannot be ignored.

Something was released into the land that day. The exact nature of it is elusive, but it left its mark on the forests for years to come. It is like a cockroach-- difficult to kill, and inclined to hide right beneath the noses of those that still reside in the hills and meadows nearby the Weeping Gully. The thing found a home in the wilderness and relished in its relative solitude, gathering all it needed to unleash its own thoughtless cruelty upon the realm, and perhaps beyond...