On the northernmost coast of Vornair in the frozen expanse of Elyria lies a bustling city, inhabited as one might expect by the hulking Brudvir and the staid Hrothi. Yet rather than a local Clan it is governed by the Raven-Head banner of one Clan Kjal, an odd conglomeration of Kypiq families that had wandered the world beyond the Forestholme for centuries for reasons either lost to history, or closely guarded by those who know them. This unusual arrangement came about when the nomadic caravan of Kypiq found themselves in the north during the Xeilian invasion. Having grown close with some of the natives the wanderers faced a choice of leaving their newfound friends to face slavery and death or to help them in their rebellion. In the end, after much internal debate with their Keeper and the Elders, their wagons turned south alongside the Brudvir and Hrothi to help in their liberation. Their guile and stealth served the northerners well against the legions of the Mad King with their scouts feeding information, their saboteurs poisoning and setting fire to what food their enemies had hidden away, and their blades wetted with blood in the night. When the Clans were freed, they rewarded their allies well, and the Kypiq of Clan Kjal were granted land to settle upon within the frozen taiga of Erzhalden. They were joined by the very Clans that convinced them to fight so many years ago on their way north, and thus they transitioned from a nomadic people to that of settled nobility in their newly christened home of Kjalstead.
So it was that three generations after the war ended that the Keepers of the Kypiq served as the Freyrs and Freyas of Kjalstead, fostering relations with a people who often had only heard of their tribe in passing, and turning what was once the small hamlet of Elkrest into a center of commerce and trade with contacts gathered across the north throughout entire lifetimes. The squat buildings of the Brudvir sat aside large tower-like domiciles favored by the Kypiq, while the Hrothi dug into the earth as is their want. Bisecting the city is its river that feeds directly into the ocean just beyond Kjalstead’s walls, while crossing it are numerous decoratively carved bridges and, with the influence of Clan Kjal, an abundance of ziplines that see nearly constant use from its Kypiq, be they civilians or the lightfooted guards that travel across the rooftops and ledges of the colorful city. The sound of music over the constant hum of chatter, the brightly colored Alesian silk hanging and draped across the streets and walls, the smell of such an delightful variety of food and herbs rarely seen in the north, all of these things cover Kjalstead. This Jewel of the North is filled with the rare and the unusual, for the people that walk its streets, for the joyous union of the tribes found within its walls, for the footsteps that skitter on its rooftops, the doors, the streets, and everything of all variety of shapes and sizes, and that one can find nearly anything to suit their hearts content with plenty willing to search for what little cannot be found.
And yet with it all, the joy and the wonder, those who consider Kjalstead their home wait for those who may do them harm. So sits the black headed raven on green shields across the walls. So flies their banner on their ships. So stamps the swords and the spears and the axes. And so too do the yellow eyes pear out from the darkness above with steel glinting from bows, the grinning white teeth of the Brudvir who charges through the streets in their wolf-packs, and the solid wall of determination that is the Hrothi when defending what is theirs. For this is the north, and such luxuries provided in their homes is rare. Blood was spilled to earn their lives, by their ancestors, by their families, themselves, and most often of all those who would threaten their way of life. When the singing turns into the chanting of war do the Kjalfolk march, and when the Many-Banners do call Kjalstead finds itself ready to pay their weregild. Their laughter comes at the cost of vigilance, and survival is worth nearly any cost…
