|Continent||located on::Far East|
|Region Type||is regiontype::Rural|
- Countess : Cataryna
A historical battleground in every age since the dawn of man, murderous scars are emblazoned upon Hutael's landscape, as if a flaming sword had come down from the heavens and torn unnatural wounds in the countryside. Many times her rivers have overflown their beds with the blood of man and beast, spilling out as crimson tidal wave into the bay, and washing up on the southern shores, bathing the merchants' docks in Zonasa and Batesaor in the deepest red. Often the news of battle reaches the cities by the color of the river much sooner than any courier, scribe's note... or General's head.
To the North the land darkens under the shadow of the mountains of Razrpot; an unsettling gloom is cast over the land. At night, pairs of large yellow and piercing red eyes can be spotted on the far side of the river, staring unblinkingly towards the fertile, rich lands of Hutael's lush interior. At the full moon you can hear the howl of the ravenous wolves drown out the terrified screams of their hopeless prey. You will not find a soul in this region if they do not want to be found, for they are a hidden race, descendants of the mountains and know its every secret. It is said that the tribe was born from the rock itself. Only the bravest of souls live under the shadow of the mountains, and seemingly from birth they bear the scars to prove their mettle. It is from this tribe along the northern border that the famed Shadow Knights are chosen and trained. Hard as iron, powerful as oxen, and resourceful beyond imagination, these men are the ghost warriors that bring swift and decisive victory on the field of battle.
In the North the river winds slowly and carefully, picking it's way through the treacherous cliffs as if danger lurked around every corner. But as the river nears the edge of the mountains, it suddenly bursts with a renewed through a series of treacherous rapids, as if it could taste its freedom. Finally the river calms, as if exhausted, and merrily flows through the fertile lands of Hutael's interior. The great fields of Paplarmi to the east and the equally bountiful fields of Hutael to the west, the riverbanks are dotted with merry little towns and villages. The local tunes drift along the breeze and the laugh of children can be heard as the river flows by, seemingly ignorant of the dangers to the north. Farmers here are strong and stout, but have no knowledge of warfare, hence their brutal bashing nature in combat.
Hutael's inland was once covered in a wall of dark green ferns and towering trees, lush with vegetation and wildlife. This great forest once covered the entire southern peninsula. A hunter's paradise, was once filled with deer, fox, elk, bear, rabbit, moose, and wild boar. However, over the years this great forest has been ravaged by war and merchant alike -- providing the raw materials for the glorious docks of the pirate haven, Batesaor; feeding siege engines for murderous armies in their greedy conquests of Batesaor and Masahakon. Now only the western half of Hutael's great forest remains. Hidden in these forests, a tribe of expert marksmen is believe to reside. However, they are but ghosts, appearing for but an instant, before vanishing into the depths. It will perhaps take a great leader to delve into the deep forest and bring them out from their hiding.
There are two great bridges in Hutael, built long ago by a civilization long forgotten, which have stood the test of time. The same race is rumored to have built the great outer walls of Masahakon, upon which not a single scratch is visible. Their white stone perfectly set, unblemished by the forces of nature and man. The northern serves as a beacon of light leading away from the darkness of the mountains; the southern a warm welcome to the peaceful fields of flowers and grain.