Tumung
POPULATION: 300K
CAPITAL: Sewca
CITIES: Orday
TOWNS: Marsa, Aiwthe, Perstru, (Estrenya: Lüg, Tempar)
VILLAGES: Gosleered, Valpugh, Amcole, Liocer, Novindy
Notable Features: Dzaynora's Fury
In the shadow of Mador's northern ranges lies the craggy expanse of Tumung, a province where hidden secrets and uneasy alliances cast long shadows over its rough-hewn landscapes. A perpetual shroud of mist clings to its lofty peaks, and the sound of incessant rain echoes through its valleys, echoing the tumultuous struggle unfolding beneath. Tumung's capital, Sewca, sits nestled within a cradle of stone, the rugged peaks forming a natural fortress against the elements. But within this austere bastion of stone, life thrives. The city has traditionally been a picture of resilience, its Hil:u residents as hardy and enduring as the granite that surrounds them. The streets are filled with the echoes of ancient tales, whispered secrets passed down generations, hinting at enigmas buried deep beneath the rocky surface. Yet, these remain but whispers in the wind to the untrained ear. And more disturbing, the incursion of the Sau tribes, from Sau-Hezib in the south, has suppressed these locals and denied them rights to the mines, newly discovered, which have attracted some very lucrative Relan and Tyrilan interests. From Sewca, the province unfolds across a diverse landscape. Orday, the only other city, thrives in the hard, mountainous terrain, much like a solitary gem in a rocky crown. Its heartbeat is mining, and its veins are the subterranean labyrinths that teem with an untold wealth of metal. The prospect of this untapped treasure trove fuels the ambitions of the encroaching Sau Tribe of Chidzegù, a fact that stirs the waters of Tumung's already turbulent political landscape. In the shadow of Orday, quaint towns and villages eke out their existence. In Marsa, the rugged inhabitants have carved out a life amidst the boulders and crags, their homes a testament to their adaptability and resolve. Aiwthe's townsfolk, meanwhile, thrive by harnessing the power of the rivers that cut through Tumung's rocky heart. Even in Perstru, where the land is least forgiving, the Hil:u make a home, their connection to the hills around them deep and unshakeable. Yet not all of Tumung's people are native. Along its northern shore, near the maelstrom known as Dzaynora's Fury, a community of Wostarchyh has established a firm foothold. Migrants from far-off Rajan and Sakxa, their lighter skin a stark contrast to the native populace. They live off the bounty of the sea, their homes hugging the shore, their lives intimately tied to the ebb and flow of the tides. Tumung, though besieged by rain and riven by power struggles, is a land of mystique. The people hold their ground, nurturing their land and weathering the storms that life throws their way. Hidden beneath its rocky crags and steep hills are stories yet to be told, secrets yet to be uncovered, adding to the province's enigmatic allure. And so, Tumung remains, a rugged jewel in the heart of Mador, a province where magic and mystery dance in the drizzle, where the past and present intertwine in an endless ballet, set to the ceaseless symphony of rain.
In the shadow of Mador's northern ranges lies the craggy expanse of Tumung, a province where hidden secrets and uneasy alliances cast long shadows over its rough-hewn landscapes. A perpetual shroud of mist clings to its lofty peaks, and the sound of incessant rain echoes through its valleys, echoing the tumultuous struggle unfolding beneath. Tumung's capital, Sewca, sits nestled within a cradle of stone, the rugged peaks forming a natural fortress against the elements. But within this austere bastion of stone, life thrives. The city has traditionally been a picture of resilience, its Hil:u residents as hardy and enduring as the granite that surrounds them. The streets are filled with the echoes of ancient tales, whispered secrets passed down generations, hinting at enigmas buried deep beneath the rocky surface. Yet, these remain but whispers in the wind to the untrained ear. And more disturbing, the incursion of the Sau tribes, from Sau-Hezib in the south, has suppressed these locals and denied them rights to the mines, newly discovered, which have attracted some very lucrative Relan and Tyrilan interests. From Sewca, the province unfolds across a diverse landscape. Orday, the only other city, thrives in the hard, mountainous terrain, much like a solitary gem in a rocky crown. Its heartbeat is mining, and its veins are the subterranean labyrinths that teem with an untold wealth of metal. The prospect of this untapped treasure trove fuels the ambitions of the encroaching Sau Tribe of Chidzegù, a fact that stirs the waters of Tumung's already turbulent political landscape. In the shadow of Orday, quaint towns and villages eke out their existence. In Marsa, the rugged inhabitants have carved out a life amidst the boulders and crags, their homes a testament to their adaptability and resolve. Aiwthe's townsfolk, meanwhile, thrive by harnessing the power of the rivers that cut through Tumung's rocky heart. Even in Perstru, where the land is least forgiving, the Hil:u make a home, their connection to the hills around them deep and unshakeable. Yet not all of Tumung's people are native. Along its northern shore, near the maelstrom known as Dzaynora's Fury, a community of Wostarchyh has established a firm foothold. Migrants from far-off Rajan and Sakxa, their lighter skin a stark contrast to the native populace. They live off the bounty of the sea, their homes hugging the shore, their lives intimately tied to the ebb and flow of the tides. Tumung, though besieged by rain and riven by power struggles, is a land of mystique. The people hold their ground, nurturing their land and weathering the storms that life throws their way. Hidden beneath its rocky crags and steep hills are stories yet to be told, secrets yet to be uncovered, adding to the province's enigmatic allure. And so, Tumung remains, a rugged jewel in the heart of Mador, a province where magic and mystery dance in the drizzle, where the past and present intertwine in an endless ballet, set to the ceaseless symphony of rain.
Blazon of the Tribe Chidzegù
Type
Region
Comments