The Tuskanuld


In the grand scheme of things, the Tuskanuld were the second major group of Gods to come into being, and they came into being as great warriors, adventurers and a fierce if somewhat desperate gambit against the Old Things. It was their heroic sacrifice, a good many details of which having been lost in the mists of time, the tales of which also differ depending on which Clan you speak to, and ultimately the inspiration their act of selfless sacrifice and bravery ensured, that had them raised to a Pantheon of Gods. Gods who in life had drunk, fought, hunted and raised their Clans to great status. As their power grew, so did the apparent envy and hatred of the Old Things, their hate for man and the warmth of their homes, the love of each family and the succor the Clans ensured riled them to action. It is said that homesteads were torn asunder, families massacred, their were no survivors, just death and destruction. But from each of the Clans, the Jarls gathered and discussed what was to be done against this unknown and fierce foe. All to no avail. Nights grew colder, longer, darker, storms were more fierce and windows and doors were soon barred and the people did fear the night and tremble. The fear and the gloom spread, some sought to head south, though they were never seen again, others set out to face the evil and they too were never seen again.

A rather ragtag group of adventurers rose from amidst the panic and the desperation, they drank too much, they loved just as much, and they tired of this foulness. They had often sought it out, yet never succeeded, until a Seer joined their ranks and had a vision of a nearby hill lined with fallen stones. Though the journey was hard, the storms growing ever more powerful, the group pressed on fortified by mead and knowledge and the belief that whatever their fate, it was already written. And there upon the hill, with their great weapons, the adventurers and the seer did battle with the Old Things, lightning shattered the very skies, the ground did roar and rumble, and the waters churned with such fury. The fight lasted throughout the night, those homesteads nearby boarded their windows and curled under their beds.

As dawn broke, the last crack of thunder erupted and all was silent, if anything the day was brighter and a certain ominous weight almost seemed lifted, and the Jarls gathered and rode out to witness this terrible battlefield. And there at the site of this great battle the fallen stones were shattered, and great scars marred the very earth. But of the Old Things and those adventurers, there was nothing. The adventurers had done great battle as a bulwark against such a great evil, coming together to drive the old evil back. Though they fell one by one, and with their last breaths they drove the evil away and they ascended and took their place as rightfully worshipped Gods of the Tuskanuld. Gods that inspired, encourage and work as one. Gods whose touch could still be felt, whose prowess in battle and heroic deeds would be sung and spoken of for generations to come. And even now, some Clans claim a kinship with the Gods who once walked the land, and sometimes still do if rumour is to be believed, wander the same lands as them, if they aren't carousing in the Great Hall with the glorious fallen.


The Tuskanuld are for all intents and purposes, a group of hardy White Haller adventurers who joined together in a fellowship against evil, and in death found themselves raised to Godhood. A raucous bunch of Gods if ever there was one.

Baldur - The High King – By all accounts, Balder was an old and grizzled veteran of many an adventure and many a fight. Having lost an arm and an eye to his battles, he was revered by those who gazed upon his scars. Though his bravery was fuelled as much by mead as the strength of those about him, it was Balder who lead that glorious charge amongst the fallen stones. With his advanced years, he was as wise as he was brave. Grey haired, lushly bearded, a single eye and one arm. Yet stout and hardy despite his ancient wounds. The leader and father of the Tuskanuld.


The faith finds itself nestled neatly between the Many, which prizes self-sufficiency and the One Faith, which encourages the faith amongst many, for the good of all. The Tuskanuld religion and the culture of White Hall value the skill of the individual, especially when it comes to combat and sailing. Yet alongside that the good of the Clan is also prized. The success of each clan is down to its members and certainly there may be rivalries and arguments, but despite the fights that inevitably occur, the good of the clan comes above all else, even if a little blood is spilt. Seeing that clan makes it through each year, well fed and well supplied with all it could want is paramount, and the Gods and Goddesses of the Tuskanuld gives the strength the White Hall clans need to come through each year. Even with the rivalries between clans proving bloodier at times, they will always band together come a greater threat. For that is their way. The faith itself is hardly ever found outside of White Hall, with one small expection being the Galenthian village of Dorling, sprawling farmlands farmed by White Hallers loyal to Galenthia, and their Galenthian counterparts. Though the faith remains worshipped, the White Hallers who have been given permission to stay, are slowly converting to the One Faith, more than any are converting to the Tuskanuld. One such reason for the religion not taking root on the soil of Galenthia or Aequor is the fervant rooting out of any White Hall colonies, burning them to ash and ensuring the religion and those who follow it, don't take hold. Though in some parts, should one know where to look, there is the occasional shrine to the Tuskanuld, the docks at Four Corners for instance, a place in which a great many of all religions gather and pass on through.

The Gods and Goddesses of the Tuskanuld are offering many prayers and indeed given many offerings, anything from weapons and armour, to trinkets, to part of a bountiful harvest. As a desire for success and greatness, or thanks for the bounty they have received. The Tuskanuld are worshipped and praised and blessed in many ways. The Tuskanuld have four main celebrations throughout the year, each marking one of the solstices, while marriages and deaths and great victories, and even great deaths are good reason to celebrate and praise the Tuskanuld. All warriors hope for a good death, for then they will enter the Golden Hall to feast alongside the Tuskanuld and fight alongside them when required. While those who have lead little more than a good life will spend an eternity with Gerd, being looked after in some measure of comfort, but never knowing the greatness of the Great Hall. Those who have performed evil however, they are banished by Gerd and forever their souls wander, lost and unclaimed, slowly driven mad by the nothingness they inhabit, becoming wailing and tormented souls and little else.

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