Chronicles of Sha'Lazar

The Red Hamada is an island off the continent of Sha'Lazar’s easternmost coast.

The island of Hamadat Alhamra’, known in the common tongue as Red Hamada, rises from the seething gray waters east of Sha’Lazar like the fossilized spine of some long-dead beast. It is a land ancient and untamed … a crimson-streaked wilderness of towering escarpments and howling ridgelines, its stone flanks scarred by forgotten wars, its forests dense with secrets. The very earth bleeds memory; ochre clay and rusted hillsides mark the trails of countless battles waged between clans, gods, and beasts.

The people of Red Hamada are no less fierce than the island they call home … flame-haired and weather-carved, bound by feud and fury. Their ancestors arrived by ship or fire, the old sagas disagree, but none deny their descent from wanderers and warriors, their souls etched with runes and bloodlines tracing back to the seafaring clans of ancient Battai and storm-wreathed Norge. These are men and women who wrestled their gods into submission, or else were devoured by them.

Red Hamada is a land where memory has weight, where myth is currency, and where blood cries out from the ground. Its people do not forget. Its gods do not forgive.


The island is divided into Enclaves, city-states in name, but kin-clans in spirit … each carved from stone, fire, or sea, each ruled by its own traditions, totems, and old ways.

❖ -- Adiene (Ah-Dén, lit. "high fort")
At the far northern cliffs, where the sea crashes white against basalt and the skies are never silent, stands Adienne, a wind-scoured realm of brochs and standing stones. The people here are storm-born — tattooed in sea-runes, robed in sealskin, and known to vanish into the mists upon their longships. Their Ríg, chosen by vision and strength, holds audience in a salt-worn hall overlooking the ever-boiling deep.

Here, the worship of sea-monsters is religion and madness alike. Sailors speak of immrama, dream-voyages into realms beyond the veil, returning with eyes too pale and tales too terrible to utter in daylight. Some do not return at all.


❖ -- Dva, The Horse-Lords of Esk

To the west, nestled where the Esk Fjord cuts into the island like a wound, is Dva, the most ordered of the enclaves. The Eorl’s halls are ringed by stone-walled pastures and gold-roofed barns, and the land beyond bristles with cairns, training fields, and hawk-posts. The sons of the cattle-lords train for war from the time they can hold a spear. Each spring, the fyrd... an army of free-men and nobles... rides out under hawk-banners and stamped-leather shields, the thunder of hooves echoing through the highlands. Dva’s silver mint gives them sway, but not control; the clans fight for honor here, not currency. The horse and the hawk are greatly revered by the Dvans.


❖ -- Chi'tadre — The Crooked Boglands

Far south, in the sacred stillness of Chi’tadre, the world grows strange. Crannogs rise on stilts over black waters, and in the marshes, great stones lean like drunken kings, their surfaces inscribed in blood and bone-dust. The Galdraoí, cloaked conjurers and rune-spellers, govern with visions and fear. Men and women alike bow to their prophecies.

Their god, Crom of the Crooked Bog, is a bent thing of mist and hunger. At four points of the year, screams echo across the moors as offerings are made — not beasts, but men — their eyes hollow with the knowledge of doom.

The Spaewives, revered and reviled, whisper truth from entrails and bog-bubbles, their hair crusted in dried heather and ichor. None dare trespass Chi’tadre without permission, lest they disappear beneath the peat forever.


❖ -- Tre, lit. "homestead",

At the mouth of the Imbar River, where driftwood and souls alike wash ashore, lies Tre, a crooked-toothed village of sails, smoke, and sin. Here, a man may buy a dagger, a map, or a lover ... and none will ask your clan or claim. Tre is ruled, if such a word fits, by a Reeve, though most power lies in blades and coin.

Its inhabitants are mongrels of Red Hamada — bastards, wanderers, outlaws. Born without inheritance, they carve new fortunes from seafoam and blood. Some become pirates. Others merchants. All are survivors.

Skirmishes with Dvans and hillmen of the Fells are common — but Tre’s people revel in the chaos, sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued. They sell what others fear to touch.


❖ -- Kar-Ness (Karnes Castle, lit. "upland stronghold")

The Kar-Ness mountain range, called simply, The Fells is Red Hamada’s spine — a place of jagged peaks, silvered frost, and forgotten echoes. Its highest pass is always snow-bound, and its deepest glens echo with the drums of the Thurses, monstrous giant-men said to be kin to the very mountains.

Few venture into their domain. Fewer still return.

Yet they are not aimless beasts. The Thurses’ fortress, built into the cliffs between the Esk and Imbar Rivers, defies siege and time. It is said the Thurses keep their own laws, their own gods, and their own kind of wisdom ... old as the bedrock. No one rules them. No one dares.

The Thurses, a violent race of giant men, inhabit these Fells and keep a fortress between the springs of the Esk and the Imbar. Rivers However, the city-state is somehow self-sufficient.


❖ -- Hamadan, or Hame-Adâna, lit. "Adâna's home" - The Sylvan East


In the eastern woods of Hamadan, the world softens ... and deepens. Here, the red bark of bloodwood trees mingles with ivy, and the canopy hums with quiet sorcery. This is the realm of the Áelfar, the Faer Folk, who long ago whispered men into forming the wood-clans.
• Fer Îw, warriors and carvers of bone.
• Hy Aldar, fire-priests and lore-keepers.
• Twath Adâna, the half-Faer, who rule from the ancient tree-fortress of Old Duir, a place made of living wood and humming stone.

These forests are sacred, yet deadly. Trees speak to those who listen. Shadows stretch longer than they should. Those who break the forest's ancient laws are not killed — they are forgotten.

The Government of Red Hamadais a decentralized, tribal confederation with a mix of theocratic, feudal, and independent elements. Each enclave or region operates semi-autonomously, with power shared between local chieftains, warrior lords, and religious leaders. Some regions are more feudal and organized, such as Dva, while others, like Tre, are independent and commerce-driven. Occasional gatherings, either ritualistic or practical, enable dialogue and temporary alliances among the clans, but overall, the government remains highly localized and dependent on personal loyalty, spiritual reverence, and military strength rather than centralized authority.

Chieftain and Ríg Leadership:
Each enclave or region is ruled by a local chieftain or Ríg (chief) who leads based on their status, wealth (mainly through cattle or land), and personal warrior prowess. These leaders hold considerable power within their own territories, enforcing local laws and maintaining order among their people. For example, Adiene is ruled by a Ríg, who combines warrior leadership with religious reverence for the sea, while Dva has a more established hierarchy under the Eorl, who commands a small, organized army.

Council of Elders and Clans:
Smaller enclaves or communities might be governed by a council of clan elders, particularly in areas like Chi'tadre, where the Galdraoí (mystics and shamans) hold sway. In more mystical or isolated areas, the government would lean heavily on the wisdom and decisions of these councils, often guided by spiritual leaders rather than purely secular chiefs.

The Galdraoí:
In Chi'tadre, governance is influenced by a theocratic structure, where the Galdraoí (priests and shamans) lead, conducting religious rituals, sacrificial ceremonies, and maintaining sacred sites.

The Galdraoí, especially the Spaewives, hold significant authority, guiding local decision-making, and serving as intermediaries with the gods, especially during festivals or times of crisis. Their control might be more spiritual than direct, but their influence affects social and judicial matters.

Eorl and Vassals: In the more organized city of Dva, the government structure resembles an early feudal system, with an Eorl at the top and loyal vassals below. This hierarchy includes cattle-lords who control land and contribute to the Eorl’s army (fyrd), creating a rudimentary feudal structure that centers around military allegiance and land ownership.

Fyrd and Cattle Lords: Each region or enclave is expected to muster its warriors (or fyrd) in times of conflict, especially against external threats or in internal feuds. The Eorl’s personal fyrd, made up of able-bodied lords and their sons, is akin to a feudal levy system, but loyalty is clan-based rather than centralized under a singular monarch.

Autonomous Market Village in Tre:
Tre represents a semi-anarchic, trade-driven society, where governance is minimal, and authority largely falls to a Reeve who oversees the market. Tre’s residents generally disregard the Eorl of Dva’s authority, reflecting the Norse concept of independent “things” (community assemblies), where the town operates by its own loosely governed rules, with frequent skirmishes against neighboring clans. This area values freedom, commerce, and personal reputation over allegiance to a particular ruler, making it a hub for outlaws, traders, and seafarers.

Gatherings and Moots:
An annual council or “moot” exist, where the major clan leaders and religious figures meet to discuss island-wide issues, mediate feuds, or resolve pressing matters like food shortages, external threats, or disputes. These gatherings, possibly taking place during sacred festivals led by the Galdraoí, would be semi-ritualistic but also practical, facilitating dialogue and temporary cooperation among the independent enclaves.

Faer Folk and Clans:
In Hamadan, the Faer Folk or Áelfar hold a legendary status, where itinerant wood-clans pledge fealty to them or the mystical Twath Adâna. This structure is unique to Hamadan, where the Áelfar serve as quasi-divine rulers who are not involved in day-to-day governance but command respect and loyalty due to their mythical heritage and semi-mystical leadership.

Tre, lit. "homestead" is the autonomous market Port ~ at the mouth of the Imbar, with an inn, a smithy, and a variety of merchants offering jewels, textiles, furs, and leathers. Loosely governed by a Reeve, but otherwise lawless, the Tre traders and seafarers do not recognize the authority of the Eorl. Frequently, they have skirmishes with Dva cattle-lords and hill people of the Karnes. The men and women of Tre generally come from other parts of the island, usually second- or third-borns not entitled to inherit who have no desire to work for their older brothers. As such, they turn to viking, trade, and prostitution.

Tre represents a semi-anarchic, trade-driven society, where governance is minimal, and authority largely falls to a Reeve who oversees the market. Tre’s residents generally disregard the Eorl of Dva’s authority, reflecting the Norse concept of independent “things” (community assemblies), where the town operates by its own loosely governed rules, with frequent skirmishes against neighboring clans. This area values freedom, commerce, and personal reputation over allegiance to a particular ruler, making it a hub for outlaws, traders, and seafarers.

Hamadan, or Hame-Adâna, lit. "Adâna's home" is a city-state within treacherous woodland along the eastern edge of the island. A rich source of wood for longships, the sylvan East is where the Áelfar make their homes.

These Faer Folk long ago organized itinerant men into wood-clans, the most prominent being Fer Îw, Hy Aldar, and the half-Faer Twath Adâna, who rule from their fortress of Old Duir, or simply Hamadan.