Orcs are the scourge of Otraxis. Even goblins, widely seen as brutish barbarians, despise orcs. They are able to survive on nothing more than rocks, lichen and dirt, although they prefer more nutritious fare, especially fresh meat. They breed prodigiously, often whelping litters of 12 or more. They produce almost nothing; orc craftsmanship is limited to badly tanned hides and weapons. Everything they need, they acquire through raiding, theft or the actions of slaves.

Orcs live in clans, often with names chosen to inspire fear in their enemies: Fleshtearers, Blooddrinkers, Worldeaters, Speartongues, Cleftskulls, and so on. Social standing is linked solely to how many orcs you can cow, through force of arms, magic or treachery. Only the strong survive; they have no patience or sympathy for weakness of any kind.

Orcs belive the gods are malevolent spirits, who hate the orcs (after all, everyone else does). After creating the orcs, the gods were so terrified of them they made the other (weaker) races to try to eradicate them, at which they have never succeeded. They therefore live their lives in spite of the gods, nihilistically destroying the handiwork of the gods to prove their own mastery. While orcs have clerics and other divine spellcasters, they see prayer as more a means of extortion than piety: orc clerics “steal” magic from the gods to power their spells.

 Although brutish, orcs are intelligent enough to realise that half-orcs often possess talents they themselves do not, like reduced sensitivity to light and increased magical abilities. They therefore rape their slaves in an attempt to breed spies, day guards and spellcasters. The half-orcs are treated appallingly until they can wrench some standing in the tribe, and then are treated according to the fear they inspire (i.e. as orcs). New half-orcs are often bred at the behest of the older generation of half-orcs. 

Current news:

High in the Palir Mountains, a great orc barbarian is welding the tribes into the greatest raiding party ever seen. They intend to sack the city of Otraxis. Buoyed by excitement, even the lowlander tribes are becoming rowdier: raiders have already attacked some of Otraxis’ satellite towns, raizing the town of Arenburg, kidnapping several villagers and stealing livestock and valuable goods.

The Order of the Dragon – The oldest knightly order on the continent, formed by the grandson of King Hugh the Pious, Hugh III, in memoriam of the remarkable circumstances that led to Hugh the Pious’ ascention to the throne. Inspired by the dragon Salizarr’s commitment to its keeping its word following its defeat, knights of the Order of Dragon are charged with loyalty before all else: loyalty to their allies, their word and their society. In Salizarr and Hugh’s home region of Otraxis, this Order has remained strong; stronger than its waning fortunes elsewhere would suggest.

The Order of the Lion – Also formed by King Hugh III, shortly following the foundation of the Order of the Dragon. Hugh’s personal order took its livery from his mother’s family’s coat of arms, and again was founded on the principal of loyalty. This time, however, instead of swearing loyalty generally upon vague principals of honour, the knights swore loyalty to the king personally. Sworn to protect the king and expand and protect his realm, the Order rapidly came to be one of the richest and most powerful Orders (largely due to the support of generations of kings and nobles currying favour with the monarch). In the traditionally independent city of Otraxis, however, it has struggled for influence.

The Order of the Star – Formed a century later, the Order of the Star was founded under a petition from the Grand Templar Palatine to support and protect the church of the gods. King Edward I, a weak king, was forced to grant the petition to win the support of the church to his rule. The fortunes of the Order have waxed and waned over the years as monarchs have tried to support or suppress the Order based on their attitudes to the church and its independence. The Paladins take their name from the title of their founder, the Grand Templar Palatine.

The Twin Orders (the Order of the Sword and the Order of the Shield) – Founded during the upheavals of King Edward VIII’s reign, the Twin Orders claim repsonsibility for restoring order to the realm. The Order of the Sword was founded to uphold the noble virtues of chivalry, living lives of honour, virtue and valor. The Order of the Shield was founded to represent the smallfolk and protect those without the power to protect themselves. Remarkably, the Orders were founded in a calculated attempt to appeal to both nobles and smallfolk, and so bring the realm back to stability from the brink of civil war. The Order of the Sword has always been the stronger or more influential of the two, again due mostly to its appeal to the rich and powerful. However, Knights of the Shield are still welcome in villages and crofts throughout the land.

The Order of the Cockatrice – The newest Order, founded in Otraxis little more than a century ago by a blackguard named Sir Petyr Lucard. The cockatrice was chosen as their symbol in part as a sly insult to the city and its ancient dragon benefactor: a cocktrice being a combination of dragon and cockerel. The Order was founded as a crusading order, driving knight errants into the goblin lands north of Otraxis, and also into the dwarven and elven lands (although the Order has always denied this occurred). Almost parodying the other knightly orders, Knights of the Cockatrice are fierce warriors from their crusading origins, but utterly mercenary. They have a not underserved reputation as braggarts, drunkards, brawlers and mercenaries.

Knights of any order generally start as squires to annointed knights. Squires are promoted to knights aspirant upon earning the support of a priest or fellow knight. After questing for some time, the knight aspirant who has proven himself is annointed as a full knight. Annointed knights are divided between knights errant (who quest for their Order) and knights ecouter (who are sworn to a particular houshold).

Amidst all the dukes and duchesses of Otraxis, no reign was as brief or as tragic as that of Lady Mary Fitzroy, who was crowned 200 years before the present and whose reign lasted only nine days. Although she was never ranked higher than a Duchess (as befits the ruler of Otraxis), her sad ending passed into history and the hearts of peasants throughout the duchy, and she is remembered as the Nine Day Queen.

 Mary was a bookish child, the eldest of three daughters of William, Duke Orsay, a cousin of Duke Otto the Fat of Otraxis. When Otto reached his own celebrated end (described elsewhere in these histories), the crown passed to Otto II, called “the Posthumous”, because his lord father died during his young wife’s pregnancy. The child was born four months after the duke’s death, and Atreus, the Lord Chamberlain of Otto the Fat became regent.

 Orsay was a much more powerful town in those days than currently, and William saw an opportunity to expand his power further. His claim to the throne of Otraxis through Salic Law was weak but evidenced, and he felt that Salizar (who was more active in those days still) would, if not support his claim, would not oppose it. Of course, there were other ways to strengthen his claim.

 Orsay and his retinue travelled to Otraxis and claimed access to the ducal seat. Atreus, although regent, was weak, primarily due to a lack of support from the guild masters, but also due to his inability to take the throne under Salic law. One did not risk extending one’s power if one thought an angry dragon would protect its ancient promise to preserve the throne for the descendants of Hugh the Pious.

 In any event, Atreus dared not turn Orsay away, and this was his downfall. With what has become known as an “Orsay greeting” or “Orsay welcome” (although the latter is strictly speaking historically incorrect), William slew Atreus at their first meeting, and kidnapped the babe Otto, his lady mother Flora, and his wet nurse, whose name is not recorded. The party returned to Orsay before the Otraxis guards could respond.

 Exactly what happened to Lady Flora is unknown. For certain, she was not publically received in Orsay, and was never heard from again. Some say William slaughtered her as well on the way back to Orsay, and her ghost still haunts the moors south east of Otraxis, caught between trying to escape and trying to save her baby. Others say she escaped, and the house of Orsay is still sometimes bothered by those claiming descent from Lady Flora.

 Upon reaching Orsay, William immediately roused his daughters, and his house cleric. Before the gods, Mary and Otto were wed that very night. What the girl, who was 16 at the time, thought is also lost to history, although it is recorded that she at first refused to speak her wedding vows. Her father spoke to her privately, and upon re-emerging, Mary seemed cowed. Two servants were present at the ceremony to round the numbers out to the 8 required to represent the gods. Her younger sisters were wed to other lords in the area to cement support for the Orsay coup over the next week, and it is recorded that Jane, the youngest, wept throughout the ceremony.

 Orsay returned to Otraxis with the Duke and Duchess in tow, and claimed the seat as regent. Thousands of people turned out to watch the procession. No one cheered. No one waved. No one even moved. It was as if someone had placed 10,000 statues along the roads. One can only imagine how tense the scene had seemed to the new Duchess and the regent. Mary herself stood proudly at the head. Several contemporary records comment on how regal she seemed, despite her unhappiness and her inexperience. Her coronation speech was simple, and surprisingly brave for a young woman: “I am a most unwilling and unexpected ruler of this city, but if I am to be Duchess, then I shall act as one.” The role of her father was not commented on.

 Unfortunately for Mary, Peter, soon to be called “the Black,” another cousin of Otto, was mustering his forces. His claim was much stronger than Orsay’s, at least before the marriage of Mary and Otto, and Orsay’s murder of Atreus had increased Peter’s popularity with the people of Otraxis. When Peter’s army, 30,000 men strong rode on Otraxis, Orsay could only muster a force of 6,000 to face him.

 William fled towards Orsay. He hid in a forest for a week, but was betrayed by a servant, recaptured and executed for treason.

 The bewildered and abandoned Mary was led from the throne. “Come down from there, child,” Peter is recorded to have said. “That is no place for you.”

 “May I go home now?” she asked in return.

 Her question was greeted with a terrible silence. With great dignity, she removed the crown from her head. “Take this crown of shame,” she said. “It never did belong to me.”

 Mary was imprisoned for 15 months, awaiting her execution. Peter ruthlessly strengthened his grasp on Otraxis; anyone who spoke against him, or for Orsay, or even for Otto, was crushed. It became obvious Peter intended to rule in his own right. The baby Duke was said to have died of a chill some 6 months into Mary’s imprisonment.

 Like all royalty under sentence of death, Mary was allowed to address the crowd before her execution. She did not protest her innocence or berate her successor. Instead, she asked the crowd to join her in prayer.

 After she was blindfolded with lace, she asked the executioner to dispatch her quickly. She then reached down for the block. In her blindness however she stumbled and missed it, her hands groping empty air. For a moment her composure crumpled, and Duchess Mary of Otraxis was revealed to be a frightened girl, barely 16, lost, bewildered and terribly alone.

 “Where is it?” she cried. “What shall I do?”

 An elderly onlooker quickly mounted the platform and gently guided her hands to the block, before disappearing totally from the scene. Mary, who was never to know the identity of the man who had comforted her, then laid her head upon the block and said, “Molkai, into your hands I commend my spirit.”

 And so she died.

After his exploits, Hugh Kade became his father’s heir. All agreed, except perhaps his brothers, that it was fair that the youth who had saved the Duchy should one day rule it.

The youth himself only expressed hope that that day would be far off.

The elder brother, who had fled to the south and never returned, began to spread lies about his brother into the ear of Alarak the Cruel. He told the king that Hugh had made an evil bargain with the dragon, that he was poisoning his father, that he had designs on the Leyiran throne. At first, the king paid no mind to these slanders.

In good time, the old Duke was taken by Emesh and Hugh became the new duke of Otraxis. His rule was wise and fair, and under his guiding hand, the city flourished. The dwarves were thankful he had defeated Salizarr, and showered him with gifts and offers of trade. The moutain orcs were scattered, first by the dragon, then by the dragon’s disappearance, so an uncommon peace fell upon the duchy.

Alarak’s cold eyes saw the Jewel of the North begin to shine, and his cold heart became filled with desire for it. First, he raised the tithes the duchy paid him, then raised them again. He began to tax the merchants who traded with the city harshly. Finally, falling back on the old lies of Hugh’s brother, he declared that Hugh was guilty of treason and patricide, abhorred by the gods, and raised his banners against him.

Hugh himself was horrified at both the slanders and the foul acts of the king. At first, he intended to journey south to plead his case, but his advisors counselled against it: the king would simply seize him, and demand a ransom from the city for his return, if he let Hugh return at all. Alarak may have been king, but he had turned his back on Eurus’ justice. They pointed out the king’s many cruelties.

Finally, Hugh held vigil in the temple for a day and a night. When he emerged the next day, he said that Molkai had granted him a vision: Alarak no longer deserved to be king.

The people of Otraxis rallied to their young duke. The dwarves rallied with them to repay their debt. The army marched south, dwarfed by Alarak’s army, but carrying the will of the gods with them.

Hugh  led his small army in a long game of cat and mouse, striking Alarak here, ambushing him there, scoring victory after victory but forced to always retreat before the king’s superior forces without fully engaging in battle. People began to whisper that Hugh no longer beleived the gods were with him, that Enlil would win the day for them if only Hugh would turn and fight, but Hugh never did.

Finally, having retreated back to the very fields before Otraxis, having won every skirmish but now, finally, in danger of losing the war, Hugh turned and faced the king. Before his city, the armies clashed, Hugh’s tiny force swallowed almost completely by Alarak’s army. The brave soldiers faced wave after wave of attacks, but all knew that Hugh’s Rebellion, the War of Shrinking Swords (as Alarak’s men sneeringly called it), had finally come to an end.

At the very blackest hour of the battle, a great roar like rolling thunder was heard. Stormheads sprang from nowhere. Lightning pounded the ground. All men but Hugh cowered before what seemed the very wrath of Branchala.

Salizarr appeared from the heart of the storm. Every breath brought death to waves of Alarak’s men. Every blow unhorsed a knight or destroyed a war engine. Every roar struck terror into the hearts of the king’s men. Unable to face the dragon or its storm, the army broke, and fled.

Salizarr snatched Hugh up in one clawed hand, and Alarak in the other. Faster than the fastest birds, the old dragon flew south to the King’s palace. Alarak screamed and begged and pleaded. Hugh was silent, knowing his life was in the hands of the gods.

Salizarr crashed through the dome of the palace, into the throne room. With booming voice, the dragon said, “This man has waged war upon a man to whom I owe a debt of honour. This is his punishment!” Alarak screamed once, then Salizarr swallow him whole.

“This man shall now by king!” thundered Salizarr. “And as long and he rules, and his sons rule, and his sons’ sons rule, they shall have my protection!”

And that is how the Severan dynasty ended, and the Kadian dynasty, our own, began, with the wise rule of King Hugh the Pious, the first of his name. It is how the Kadian family came to take the blue dragon and gold chain for their arms. It is how the Salic Law–that a Kadian should rule–was spoken. It is why the Kadian Kings send a gift to the mountains on their coronations, and it is why that is a gift, not a tribute. And it is how Salizarr first revealed how seriously he took his oath to Hugh, six hundred years ago.

Approximately 600 years ago, in the twilight of the Severan dynasty, during the reign of King Alarak the Cruel, a great blue wyrm settled in the barren Palir Mountains above what was then the fledgeling town of Otraxis. The dragon was already old beyond measure; longer than a river galley, with a head the size of an aurochs and scales the colour of the deepest oceans.

The people of Otraxis were terrified and fled. The Dwarves closed the gateways to their mountain homes and cut off all trade. All living things waited to see what cruelty the great dragon would perform.

Its first target was the Dwarven mines. With claws of adamantium and a breath of lightning, the dragon began to dig deep into the mountain rock, hunting out the precious stones and metals the dwarves had hoarded. Many lives were lost; many mines and sacred crypts were looted and destroyed, the treasures lifted back to the dragon’s lair on leathery wings.

In desperation, the Dwarves begged the dragon for mercy. It agreed to spare their lives and homes in return for crippling annual tribute. The Dwarves paid, and gave the dragon the name “Salizarr”, which means “The Burrowing Death” in their language.

The mountain orcs were unable to resist the Dwarven tribute caravans, and raided them–the Dwarves perhaps less ardent defenders than they would have been under other circumstances. Enraged, Salizarr tracked the orcs back to their lairs, took back his treasure, and breathed death into the orc lairs. He killed their leaders, laughed off the hexes of their witches, and broke the spirits of the tribes. They, too, agreed to serve Salizarr.

Salizarr turned his greedy eye southwards, towards Otraxis. At this time, the Duke of Otraxis had three sons, the youngest of which was Hugh Kade. In desperation, the Duke sent his eldest son south, to the rulers of the Kingdom, to beg for help. He sent his second son west, to seek aid from the magic users of the broken lands. He sent his youngest son east, to the lands of the elves.

Hugh was a pious boy, and every night prayed to the gods to save his home and the good people of Otraxis. He did so one night on the very borders of the elf lands, and fell into a deep slumber. He dreamed of a beautiful woman in white, who gave him eight strands of her hair.

When he awoke, a beautiful golden chain was laid across his chest.

Hugh rode back to Otraxis as quickly as his horse could bear him. He gathered what paltry tribute remained to the people of Otraxis in an ox cart and drove it into the mountains in search of Salizarr.

Salizarr of course found the boy and his cart soon enough. The dragon took the gold and was about to leave when Hugh told him that the ox was tribute from Otraxis as well. Pleased with the fine looking animal and its golden harness, Salizarr devoured the ox in a single gulp.

As soon as it touch his tongue, the ox’s gold harness unravelled into the golden chain, and wrapped itself around Salizarr’s mouth, then head, then neck, then body. Tighter and tighter flexed the chains, until the dragon was trussed like a goose and whimpering in pain. He tried to breath lightning. The chain ignored it. He tried to break free. The chain would not break. Finally, he begged for help from the boy.

“Torment the young races of this area no more,” said Hugh. “Know that I could slay thee now, for I have thee at my mercy. I choose not to, for truly you are creature of surpassing nobility and power, and I would not strike such a splendid child of the gods. Give me your word of honour to trouble us no more, and we shall part as friends.”

Touched by the youth’s nobility, piety and of course flattery, Salizarr gave his word and the chain melted away. True to his word, he returned to his lair, and bothered the younger races no more. Hugh returned to his father’s castle and was hailed as a hero.