Rugged, storm-lashed, and unforgiving, the Highlands stretch across the northwestern edge of the known world — untamed lands of jagged mountains, windswept moors, and deep glens. For centuries, these high peaks and cold valleys were home to dozens of rival clans, each with their own warlords, gods, and grudges. Their feuds were legendary, their blood feuds older than any crown in Midrasil.
Yet, the highlanders are not without a claim to greatness. Ancient texts from early scholars suggest that the first humans to walk the soil of Midrasil came from these very lands. Proud and fiercely independent, the clans have always viewed the other kingdoms as soft, bloated with gold and diplomacy. Where Midrasil has law, the Highlands have honour. Where others talk, the clans take action.
For generations, raids and piracy were as much a tradition as survival. Black-sailed ships slipping out of hidden coves to burn and plunder coastal towns, and berserker warriors thundering down mountain passes to test the strength of their neighbors. Many such raids were suffered by House Briarthorne, House Corven, and House Blackmore.
But last winter, something changed.
The blood wars that had raged for centuries — some say since the age of myth — suddenly ceased. A new figure rose from the ashes of endless battle: a war-chosen known only as the Immortal King, a scarred chieftain claiming to have defeated death itself. He united the great clans through oath, fire, and challenge. For the first time in living memory, the Highlands fly a single banner.
Whether this unity is a threat or a chance for peace is uncertain. Some in Midrasil hope for trade and alliance. Others warn that a united Highlands might be more dangerous than their fractured past ever was. Whatever the case, one truth remains: the mountains no longer echo with clan war cries. They are watching the lowlands now.