Outcasts
Primitives
Degenerates
Degenerates
The men time itself has forgotten. Broken, dwindling, and unfit for the world their ancestors built, they are the bridge that connects man to his primordial past. Even Picts are highly advanced by comparison—these men roam the far reaches away from even the barest hint of civilisation; running with beasts, hunting mammoth, and trying with decreasing success to replenish or even maintain their numbers.
Their gods have long since died, and they find themselves alone in a hostile world. More common to find their remains entombed in blocks of ice than to come across their encampments, they nevertheless stubbornly cling to the world which should have been their birthright. Having little knowledge of tools or architecture, they build with stone and wood and bone, occasionally stealing what they cannot make with their own hands. Large, heavily muscled, with sharp tusks protruding from their lower jaws, they are equipped far beyond their smaller cousins to survive even the harshest of climates. They are strength, and force, and raw physical power, making up for the lack of development with sheer force of will and brawn.
Degenerates
Degenerates
Degenerates
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It is still believed that some trails and paths in more remote areas within the Border Kingdom are haunted because people keep disappearing without a trace quite so often. Ordinary villagers often notice these disappearances but are normally ignored due to superstition and the easier approach to avoid these areas altogether. Occasional human body-parts are washed up on shores from lakes or creek unaware of who is responsible for these hideous acts.
In truth the culprits are often not beasts, but hungry Degenerates that seize and kill travelers or smugglers in order to feed their inbred brood. The often small and isolated population that are found within hamlets and remote areas of the Border Kingdom often lead to inbreeding beyond what was thought possible. Degenerates are the result of centuries of inbreeding among escaped criminals hiding in the moor that has lived in the same hovel for the past forty generations.
