Oria

The icy wind bites at you through four layers of wool. An expanse of gray mountains and white snow frame the aurora’s colorful ripples in the night sky. The lodge house ahead offers the promise of comfort and good company, safe from the mournful wind’s howling. 

Welcome to Oria. 

The Mantle’s frigid peaks stretch across the northern horizon of Allemance, a natural border spanning hundreds of miles. The houses of the alpine Beast World lie beyond these imposing cliffs. Harsh winters make for a hard life in the homeland of elk and bears. Comfort requires ingenuity and cooperation, but delvers who brave the snow will see a batko’s silhouette inviting them into the lodge. 

Three and a half million beasts and brethren call themselves Orians. It’s a tough place with tougher inhabitants. 240,000 square miles lie north of the Mantle, but much of the terrain is impassable mountains. Only the Oric people have conquered these peaks, even digging a sixty-mile tunnel through the central Grensa mountains. 

The Lodge House 

Centuries ago, multiple families began living under one roof to conserve firewood and minimize time outside during the colder half of the year. This practice evolved into the lodge house, an entire settlement of northerners contained under a single roof. These structures now stand everywhere in the north as an enduring symbol of its people’s ingenuity and harmony. Some of their walls contain hundreds of Orians. A few contain thousands. 

Each lodge house is a tight-knit, independent community with its own identity. Most are self-sufficient, but they send merchants to trade goods that are unique to their region. Their physical size is determined by population; the largest and oldest are meandering collections of additions performed whenever their newlyweds needed a home. 

The largest lodge is Oria’s capital city. The Gatehouse of Jegervalt is made of dark wood and stone against the side of Mount Roet and runs deep into the mountain’s tunnels. Jegervalt houses thousands of beasts and brethren within the towers flanking Grensa Tunnel, which connects the two main regions of the homeland. 

Stubborn, Mutual Endurance 

When winter descends on Oria, the lodge walls are the difference between life and death. Poor harvests, failed hunts, or too little firewood would spell doom for a community. The Oric work ethic is centered on stubborn, inventive survival. 

An Orian’s labors must be in harmony: individual with family and family with house. Lodge houses are a marvel of invention and cooperation. Northerners see the ideal home as one where everyone does the job they’re best-suited for, and looks to improve their methods each time. 

Other homelands perceive Orians as stoic walls of pragmatism. They have a reputation for being slow to join with outsiders. Most wear their northern identity as a badge of honor, and a few wear it as a sign of superiority. Some call them cold, but all an Orian needs is to figure out where they fit in best. 

Oric Social Class 

Species plays some part in Oric social order. As the most common beast, cervine elk are the homeland’s symbolic heads. Theirs are the oldest unbroken family lines with the most political power. Oria’s ruler is an elk, and it has been so for major events throughout its history. 

While they hold fewer positions, ursines are still the leaders of many lodge houses. Bear families are capable farmers and the ruling elk’s hunting partners. Their sharp memories are a blessing, but some are wary of their love of fierce competition. 

Most ligonine moles in the Beast World are members of a lodge house, but they aren’t typically drawn to politics. Instead, their passions dwell beneath the batko’s feet. Moles are sociable and cooperative with fellow northerners. However, the true home of the Oric ligonine is their Loamlink, tunnels connecting Oria and beyond. The network extends south into Allemance and through every homeland, connecting moles with their eastern sloth and armadillo cousins. 

Among the less common Oric species, adaptable and cunning rats have also found an esteemed place within the houses of Oria—it helps that they don’t take up much space. In fact, their Oric population rivals bears’. Beasts other than elk and bears rarely become batkos, but stodgy traditionalism is the only thing keeping a sharp, strong minority from leading their house. 

The human brethren are latecomers, but the survival skills they brought from their former home drove them up the pecking order. Orians value those who can make a contributions to their house; many previously obscure lodges have also risen in status thanks to the foraging and shelter techniques of the Broken World. 

Winter Huddle 

At the end of autumn, an Orian’s life moves entirely within the walls of the lodge house. A community ushers its livestock inside to survive the cold, and hunters rest after the herds’ migration. They spend these months educating children, researching new agricultural techniques, and creating art. Travel during this period is rare. A winter visitor is usually desperate or a foreigner. 

A home in the lodge house is always crowded with extended family eating and working sideby-side. Families sleep huddled together for warmth in a single enormous bed. This tradition sometimes makes for awkward interactions for a traveling Orian. Sleeping close isn’t intimate for them, it’s practical. 

Orians have little privacy in winter, but they make the best of it with the other families in their lodge. Oric friendship is a hard-earned bond forged in the trials of survival. Even after years away from home, most northerners would drop everything for a childhood friend. This loyalty makes them ideal leaders of delving crews. 

Summerstone 

One expression of nature’s magic only exists deep in the heart of northern mountains. Summerstone is a dazzling mineral that shines with the summer sun’s warmth and intensity. Flora thrives in its radiance, which is even bright enough to give brethren a sunburn. Most lodge houses rely on year-round farms and ranches that are only possible with underground sunlight. 

The magic of Summerstone is tied to the mountains. It only casts light in its original surroundings; if a chunk is broken off its mountain, it fades forever. Surveyors spend years of work meticulously exposing a vein under a lodge house. The largest Oric communities are built on top of expansive channels shining above miles of underground farms. 

Summerstone is sacred to Orians. Basking in its renewing warmth makes the stir-crazy indoor months bearable. Without it, the winters would be freezing and dreary. The stone is also precious for its rarity—some miners search for a decade or more before uncovering a single cluster. 

There are extreme penalties in Oria for intentionally destroying Summerstone. The specific punishment is up to the lodge house, but the most shocking violators have faced death sentences for the crime. Crystals snapped from their original stone are profane to Orians and distasteful emblems of waste to everyone else. 

Spring Open

When ice breaks in spring, cooped-up Orians burst from their lodge houses. Families while away winter hours making travel plans, then scatter across the mountains when the weather warms. A father teaching his son the hunt sometimes won’t return once before autumn. Farmers sleep in the field, working from morning to dusk preparing for the next harvest. 

Oric grandparents joke that babies are born with a need to conquer everything tall in the world by putting it under their feet. Orians climb. In winter, children play in the rafters of their homes, running along the wooden beams. This urge never dies, it only transforms. The young scale trees and up to their own ceilings, while adults scale mountain peaks with the same childlike enthusiasm. 

The Oric Mammoth 

The largest land animal in the Beast World is the Oric mammoth, a Gargantuan beast 20 feet tall at the shoulder and weighing 30 tons. Its body is covered in long wool that ranges in color from deep chestnut brown to stark white. Other colors have also been observed in the wild, albeit rarely. 

A single Oric mammoth eats 1,600 pounds of grass a day. They forage for it almost constantly, excavating plant matter from snow and ice with their tusks. They supplement their diet with the large, nutritious rime-fruit, which grows high on a tree common along the southern edge of the Nattefrost. Rime-fruit is inedible to most beasts and brethren, but a mammoth can clear an entire tree with surprising efficiency. 

Between ten and twenty Oric mammoths make up a herd, comprised of a dominant cow, several smaller females, and their calves. Herding cows are rarely aggressive if unprovoked, but are cautious around unfamiliar creatures. A pregnant mammoth gestates for 36 months before giving birth. 

Adult males are larger than females. They travel alone, remaining isolated for most of the year and breeding when the herds move south at the end of summer. A bull mammoth won’t migrate as far as the rest of the herd, except for the first season after impregnating a cow. Bulls are prone to attack other creatures on sight and their aggression makes them an important threat for Orians to track when hunting a herd. 

Giant Hunters 

Ten hunters from different houses, their teenaged children, and twenty ox-pulled sleds depart in time to meet the herds as they migrate south from the Nattefrost. Lodges farther north make a shorter journey, but face a harsher winter for it. They travel 10 miles per day toward the hunting grounds beyond the Lisvenn Mountains, aiming to intercept a herd before any bulls join them after breeding. A single bull is a risk, and the danger increases the longer it takes for hunters to discover the migration. 

Before the fight, a mage attempts to confuse the herd. They use precise illusion magic to send wolf howls into the ears of a single cow. She runs in a panic, confusing and agitating the others. The Orians keep a careful distance as they draw one away from the rest and wait for her to calm. 

The hunters prepare a trap along the mammoth’s trail. It’s baited with rime-fruit and a bundle of grass among a net of reinforced rope covered in snow. When the mammoth drags her tusks through it, the snare tangles and prevents her head from moving. This buys the hunters precious time as they close with longbows, spears, and lassos to fell the raging beast. 

Once they bring down a mammoth, the northerners spend two days or more dressing the carcass. A single hunt rears 10,000 pounds of meat, the same as twenty cattle. The hunters haul everything from the mammoth’s body for later use by their house. Of course, they also pack away every bit of precious ivory. They load the sleds and oxen drag the spoils back home. 

Tusk Snare

Family, Morality, Legacy 

The bedrock of Oric society is legacy. Passing one’s understanding and wisdom to the next generation is the highest virtue in northern culture. A harsh climate and lean harvests demand that parents educate their children in how to survive. This ethos runs deep in all Oric families; it’s strong enough that brethren newcomers have adopted it in the short time they’ve lived in the north. 

Childbirth is a celebrated occasion for everyone in a lodge house, and rearing a child is when an Orian reaches adulthood. Respected Orians treat their children well. They work to leave the next generation an easier life than they were born into. 

In Oria, endowment is a spiritual concept; even the heart beats with an inherited rhythm. If one lives an honorable life, their descendents’ hearts will continue in that same tempo. Moral integrity is the same as physical might, so honesty bestows strength to one’s offspring. Orians may seem cold and surly to an outsider, but they are rarely guilty of lying.

An Orian keeps their children at their side at all times until puberty. Adults appearing often in public without their kids risk a bad reputation; leaving them to fend for themselves sets a poor example. Oric parents look to demonstrate lessons in everyday life, and the most flattering compliment one can pay a northern parent is to tell them they have a smart kid. 

Orians are suspicious of childless adults. Without inheritors, why live a noble life? Childless northerners are seen as prone to frivolity and more likely to become criminals. However, those unable to conceive aren’t destined to be shunned. Adopting an orphan earns both parent and child great respect. These special families are a fulfillment of Pirhoua’s will, and parents teach that adopted children live charmed lives. 

Miners and Crafters 

All northerners regard smithing as a noble profession and a fundamental part of their identity. Oria produces the world’s finest steel, and their folklore reflects love for the forge. Children hear stories about the first mole, whose crafty tunneling unearthed a treasured ore. The first bear used his powerful arms to fell a great tree to ignite the furnace. Then, the first elk hammered the whitehot stone into the materials to build their lodge. 

Orians brought steel to other beasts in early days, and their ingenuity persisted. They went on to build the original Covenant Forge. This colossal arcane device imbues objects with magic manifested by ghosts from the Netherworld. The Covenant Forge is the most common and efficient magic item creation method in the Beast World. 

Inherited Mastery 

Oric craftsmen consider their work a lifelong apprenticeship. The smith inherits the skills of their forefathers, just as they inherit their hammer. They toil all their lives to unearth some new truth in the steel’s essence. When they lay down their tools for the last time, they pass that treasured knowledge to their own progeny. 

Young adults are traveling from Oria more often these days, but they face losing the wisdom of their loved ones in exchange for this adventure. However, most parents refuse to see ambition as a tragedy. Ever-adaptive Oric elders are learning to read and write at the fastest rate in the world. A young Orian who leaves for the Delve or any other pursuit receives a steady stream of letters from their parents and grandparents. They’re filled with their parents’ love for them and outline lessons they would have learned in person. 

As literacy becomes ubiquitous in modern Oria, an intellectual revolution is waiting just under the surface. If old wisdom is recorded, it can be compared. And if it can be compared, the very best methods can be standardized. 

The Oenin 

The northern lovers’ holiday is a passionate affair… in an Oric way. Autumn arrives, the hunt returns, and the lodge finishes stockpiling food. Tradition goes that as the doors close for winter, unmarried young Orians slip out. Their parents yell through the door, playing as if angry at this deception. “Don’t come back until you’ve found a wife!” It’s all for show, of course; they ensure that their restless youths are well-packed before their “sneaking out.” 

The travelers hike into freezing, rarefied air to find lovers and spouses. Braving treacherous mountain passes and the ice sheet of the Nattefrost, they journey to the northernmost tip of the homeland. While the crowd is mostly Oric, even an Alley wolf with the fortitude to sit under the aurora earns respect. Once they prove their strength by enduring the trip, they hold the Oenin (WAYnin). 

Single young Orians celebrate all winter, dancing around bonfires tall enough to defeat the cold. Some romantic hopefuls carve scrimshaw jewelry from ivory won in the hunt. They offer it to the one they wish to marry (or at least, the one they wish to spend the next few weeks with). Elders in the house say with a grin that an eligible and attractive northerner is “wearing more ivory every year.” Lovers enjoy private time together under the aurora, eating sweet, buttery foods they brought from home. They eat honeycombs and drink the mead they tucked away all summer for the occasion. 

On the festival’s last day, everyone buries candied fruit in the permafrost. Only unmarried people can attend, so the previous year’s supply is eaten “in memory” of newlyweds who have observed their last Oenin. Couples who got engaged during the party take their plans home for their family’s approval. The rest will return next year. 

Lodge House Leadership 

A batko leads a lodge house. Once appointed, they are its absolute authority; the batko is the monarch within the house’s walls and their presence commands respect. Not even the berendey, Oria’s ruler, can command a batko in their own home. The majority of batkos are elk and most of the rest are bears. However, brethren are worthy up-and-comers in northern politics. 

Batkos are the gatekeepers of their houses. Visitors meet directly with them before doing anything else. This lets the batko decide if the strangers are welcome and show off what makes them proud of their house. The leaders of smaller houses give a tour, introducing visitors to each family. If the batko is unavailable, they designate a proxy from their immediate family. Guests stay at the batko’s pleasure, when and where they deem fit. 

Choosing the Worthy 

The position of batko is held for life. When they die, one person from each family gathers to choose a new ruler. Mammoth hunters are most commonly chosen, but occasionally a breakthrough in engineering or architecture will impress the elders enough to win one the title. The selection is a public spectacle where prospects and supporters present why their contribution to the house is most noteworthy. The principle is to choose the one who makes the most compelling case, but politics are an important factor, of course. 

Once the candidates finish making their arguments, a War Mage oversees a vote. Each family living in the lodge house contribute a vote, which are weighted based on how many members spent the last winter within its walls. 

Recall and Exodus 

If a batko embarrasses or endangers their house, they are recalled. It happens infrequently, but if the berendey hears enough pleas from the house, they call a War Mage to oversee another election. The batko must make their case for remaining, while opposed by new candidates. A batko challenged this way is already humiliated, and even moreso if they cannot win the vote. 

When a lodge house has grown too large to function properly, it requires an exodus. Family elders gather before a War Mage like any other election, except that the chosen prospect becomes the ruler of a newly formed lodge. The two batkos meet to divide the families, and the new one departs with necessary supplies to form their house. 

An exodus can be a joyous occasion. Most people celebrate sending some of a younger generation to find their own path. However, it’s also a loss of power for the sitting batko, as rulers from Oria and other homelands respect a large house. Headstrong batkos resist attempts at exodus and shrewd ones even watch for excess stockpiling thatprecedes a call for an exodus vote. 

The Berendey  

The berendey of Oria is the head of all its houses, holding authority over matters affecting the entire homeland. They resolve disputes and conflict between houses, which is why the title of berendey carries the honorific “Father of Fathers.” They sit at the Seat of the Hunt in the largest of the lodge houses, Jegervalt. 

The berendey is chosen the same as an individual lodge’s ruler. When one dies, the batko of every house in Oria is duty-bound to gather in Jegervalt. One can nominate anyone they believe is the worthiest to become the new berendey. They make their case, then they all vote under the watch of every senior War Mage. 

Oria’s military is structured according to the wishes of its berendey. The ranks answer directly to the ruler, who reshapes them as they see fit. Its structure is an expression of the berendey’s ingenuity and wisdom, inherited from their forebears. Orians believe this flexible structure makes them a fluid and adaptable force, and prevents bloodthirsty officers from entrenching in military politics. 

This law has stood since the first berendey was chosen to command Oria at the start of the Mantle War. The ursine Yelizaveta is a legendary figure beloved for her prowess on the battlefield and leadership in uniting the lodge houses against invasion. 

The War Mages 

There is a single enduring military tradition in Oria, which has stood for over a century: the Oric War Mages. This secretive order oversees the peaceful signing of every new berendey’s military charter, and executes the transition of power. Every berendey has retained the War Mage order in their own vision of the military. They serve the Oric people directly, rather than answering to the berendey or batkos. 

Most believe the War Mages are among the most powerful students of the Arcana and masters of martial discipline. Their headquarters is the Suurin Forge, a Covenant Forge filled with legendary Oric relics. Many of the most popular and efficient evocation theses were written by wizards revealed to have been War Mages after their deaths. 

The War Mages are brash, headstrong hunters: a perfect union of meat and mind. Yet, the organization is shrouded in such mystery that even their exact number is a secret. Some believe there’s one in every crowd keeping a watchful eye for the good of the Oric people. Others see them as conniving knives in the dark, a shadow government in Oria. This is an especially popular opinion among Alley nobility. 

What everyone knows is that when a War Mage publicly reveals themselves, it’s a portent of grave consequences. They last appeared in force during the final conflict of the Invader War, the Battle of Bluebell Valley. The battle occurred the week after the Invader Army assassinated Berendey Alexander to destabilize the Oric army. A hundred War Mages responded with an explosive appearance, and their actions helped to turn the battle’s tide in the beasts’ favor. 

The head of the War Mages during the Invader War was a cervine named Torsten. Oria chose him as the new berendey after Bluebell Valley in recognition for avenging their fallen ruler and helping to free the Beast World. He sits in the Seat of the Hunt today, having overseen the human Pilgrimage and reconstruction after the war. 

The Delve in Oria 

Lodges are enamored with the new visitors the Delve has brought, as many of their families have never traveled beyond Oria. They ensure the colorful, unfamiliar newcomers in a caravan are well-served. Batkos ask caravans to tell neighbors about the great food and comfort offered in their own houses. However, crews who take advantage of Oric hospitality risk the batko’s wrath. And a sudden need to find other accommodations. Or a splint for their broken limbs. 

Just after a caravan passes the Mantle, it usually sees shops offering a service new to lower Oria: wagon ski re-fits. A crew ignores this assistance at their own risk. “Snow is quiet,” warns the mole ranger Gitli, “it sneaks out of the sky and around wheels when you least expect it.” The high mountain roads offer breathtaking vistas, but crews should take care to keep the outer ski on solid rock. Rolling down the side of the Grensa mountains isn’t as much fun as it sounds. 

For the Dungeon, hidden caverns along well-traveled passes are free real estate. The jagged rocks towering over both sides of Oric trade routes conceal a thousand opportunities for its appearance. Merchants have learned to keep their heads tilted upward while heading through narrow canyons. 

The first reports of giant worms were dismissed as exaggerations and tall tales. This wishful thinking came to an end last summer. A wagon rolled into a caravan with its crew holding up one side, bitten clean in half. The purple worms of Oria are timid and sleep for months at a time. However, if a hungry “purp” comes knocking on a wagon’s undercarriage, only prepared delvers will roll away from the encounter. 

Pirhouanism in Oria

Every lodge house’s bethel room is known by its forge, which remains lit day and night to shape steel from the ore deep in Pirhoua’s earth. The bethelkeeper instructs youths in keeping these flames, demonstrating the virtues of craftsmanship.

In the north, Pirhoua is the goddess of creation, learning, and the forge. They take her command to build communities more literally than other sects. Clerics teach Oric Pirhouans from childhood that a neighbor who can help put a roof over one’s head is a precious friend indeed. 

The First Divine Charge: Masterwork

Orians believe that mercy blossoms from the gift of a wellmade tool. Forge fire represents Pirhoua’s love for her children and steel is the promise that it will remain steadfast. Hard work and cooperation shape divine grace into life-giving protection. 

If a Pirhouan from the Houses of Oria sees an ill-equipped friend suffering, they won’t rest until the matter is resolved. They take it as a charge to practice their craft and present their friend the gift of better kit. A unique flash of pride and divine gratitude fills an Oric Pirhouan delver’s eyes when their wagon withstands a harsh windstorm. To make is to love. 

The Second Divine Charge: Scholarship

Mastercraft requires a master’s understanding. Orians rest on the day they’re born; on day two, the lessons begin. Devout northerners are eager for wisdom waiting to be gleaned from past generations. Well-understood knowledge is strength of spirit. 

Oric clerics are always carrying at least three books. They consider language and communication to be Pirhoua’s greatest magic, allowing the divine power of knowledge to flow. More than wellread, they also pay special attention to sources. The name of every useful book’s author is like a password to more precious knowledge. 

The Third Divine Charge: Legacy

A northern Pirhouan believes their knowledge is wasted if not passed on. One must receive the lessons in ancient texts, then impart them to their children. 

Orians interpret Pirhoua’s message as a commandment to give their children enjoyable lives. The most devout northerners commit themselves to showing their offspring the pleasures of life, and multiply them for all the family by doing so. Adults believe that joyful experiences shared with a son or daughter echo through the family forever. Thus, part of them goes on living too. 

Dramphinian Distrust 

Oria is deeply suspicious of Dramphine and her followers, an attitude unique to the north. Members of the Moon Wolf’s paladin order have difficulty earning any batko’s blessing to stay within the walls of a lodge house. A batko will virtually never honor a judgment passed by a Dramphinian paladin; even if they wanted to, it would devastate the house’s reputation. Any Oric Dramphinian is sure to have a fascinating life story leading to such a rare combination of homeland and position. 

This animosity comes from several directions at once. First, paladins are a foreign authority entering a batko’s sovereign house. They demand automatic respect and jurisdiction by right of an invisible, universal force of justice. Another cause is the lack of Orians among their order. It’s the unfortunate sort of truth that makes itself more true over time. It also certainly doesn’t help that the avatar of Dramphine is the Moon Wolf, a symbolic species that brings a scowl to many Orians’ faces. 

The strongest case for Oria’s rejection of Dramphinism is on the Elkbrother Islands. This brutally cold region was settled centuries ago by a small lodge house called Doloretsk. Its batko devised an unorthodox way to survive on the islands; one that a Dramphinian would certainly call Unnatural. 

Using reanimated corpses to perform farm work, the people of Doloretsk live and even thrive in the Elkbrother Islands’ inhospitable wasteland. The danger of using Veronette’s necromancy crushed the original batko’s hopes of revolutionizing life in Oria. However, the sovereignty and self-determination of a lodge house is held sacrosanct. 

In a word, the Dramphinians were pissed. When they first learned of Doloretsk’s “clever idea”, they stormed north to the fields immediately. They destroyed the bodies of the Orians’ ancestors with the blazing white fire of their lady’s Lantern. Oria saw this as blatant desecration of inheritance and an outright invasion. Even the most diplomatic paladins were unable to earn forgiveness for such a glaring crime, as they couldn’t denounce Dramphine’s will. Orians never forgot that.