I am Ironsworn. My name is Jane, 19-years-old, youngest of six children, and a noble of the House of Kormack in a settlement known as Wolfspire the Tempest Hills of the Ironlands. I am a bit taller than average height with a slender build, fair skin and dark hair. I keep my clothing modest, my hair closely cropped in defiance of strict noble customs, and my disposition stern. I often get petulant and my temper sometimes runs away with me, but I try to maintain poise when appropriate.

Two generations ago, my family was driven to the Ironlands from their homes in the Old World. My grandfather is now dead, and my grandmother does not wish to relive the memories, so my knowledge of this forced emigration is based in conjecture. From what my own parents know from hearsay, corroborated by the few elders still alive in the village, a terrible sickness left the land stricken with death. From the ones that fled, most succumbed aboard the ships and were thrown overboard to keep the disease from spreading further. The very few that survived made their home on the Ironlands. Settlements are small; pockmarked across the land. No major cities exist, but we all hope that someday the Ironlands will thrive with teeming metropolises and industry beyond anything we can currently fathom. I don’t expect that this will occur in even my children’s children’s lifetimes.

The Ironlands are not without their mysteries. Occasionally, during long travels, one will come across a bewildering metal pillar sticking out of ground to heights as tall as four men stacked upon each other’s shoulders. Not one person in the village of Wolfspire knows their purpose. There is much, much speculation. Some say they have existed many thousands of generations, placed there by the firstborn giants for barbaric rituals. Some say they are altars to the Old Gods. Some of the more imaginative believe that they are artifacts from space travelers used to mark locations as if pins on a board for unknown purposes. The pillars do not tarnish, they cannot be etched with blades, and they can not be toppled. Many have tried digging under the pillar to find no bottom. The pillars have been a preoccupation for most of my childhood, hearing from Grandmother every single legend there is to tell, including a particularly interesting yarn about people even older than the firstborn who placed pillars as guidance markers for landmarks that have long become mostly unexplored, dangerous ruins. Someday I would like to uncover the mysteries of the pillars, but I often find that to be a childish fantasy.

Our village seat, which we call a circle. is made up of many homes built modestly out of wood, stone, and thatch, although the modest castle grounds are more ornately designed out of the finest stone carved out of the Tempest Hills themselves. The commonfolk and minor houses sworn to the House of Kormack deal in trade with other noble villages, specifically iron, coal, and wood. Our village is very communal, and we all know each other very well. We stick together, help each other out, and throw the best festivals this side of the Hinterlands! However, while we are friendly with most of the local noble villages, we are wary of many circles that we consider hostile. One circle in particular, Great Bear Ford, is a massive circle comprised of many settlements. As far as the House of Kormack is concerned, Great Bear Ford is an unfriendly circle that have been feuding with other local settlements as long as Grandmother and Grandfather have been in the Ironlands. I suspect that Great Bear Ford harbors a storied history with many local settlements back in the Old World. As a result, the House of Kormack neither interacts with nor participates in trade with with the likes of Great Bear Ford. They return the favor, or lack thereof. This uneasy truce has persisted and has not been broken by either party.

The House of Kormack is lead by a man named Chief Hennion, a sturdy, hardened leader of 78 years who was democratically voted into leadership shortly after my circle’s displacement from the Old World. Some settlements like ours have single leaders we look to for guidance, hard decisions, diplomacy, and bolstering our spirits when necessary. Some settlements are theocracies governed by the High Priests. Some are true democracies with no leaders whatsoever. Some settlements are even barbaric where disputes are settled with violence. The House of Kormack does not interact with such circles.

Our circle is protected by wardens. The wardens are our soldiers, guards, and militia. They serve our communities by standing sentry, patrolling surrounding lands, and organizing defenses in times of crisis. Wardens in the House of Kormack are appointed personally by Chief Hennion. Sometimes they are residents in the circle trained for defense. Sometimes they are wanderers hired on in exchange for goods. In either case, our wardens are indispensable, and we all sleep easier at night knowing that they are working tirelessly.

I mentioned the firstborn giants in passing, but it’s important to understand that the lore of the firstborn is just that: lore. Elves, goblins, giants, pixies, loup-garous, all manner of terrifying otherworldly creatures are legendarily depicted as the original inhabitants of the Ironlands. Any old ruins are purported to be remnants of dwellings, places of worship, cemeteries, mines, and impossible artifacts of the firstborn. It’s the only way we can explain their existence in a land that was all but abandoned when we arrived from the Old World. Some say the firstborn still exist in remote areas of the land, but there have been no records of contact.

Magic? Once waved off as lunacy, it is now believed that the Ironlands flow with a mysterious power that only some are gifted enough to wield. Whether these gifts existed in the Old World, or they are manifested within a lucky few here on the Ironlands, those who can wield the power are highly respected as scholars of the arcane arts, healers, mages, and sorcerers. If your circle is lucky enough to have even one of these individuals, you might find yourself with even more reason to sleep better at night even with the wardens.

As for supernatural horrors that plague the Ironlands? Nothing but stories to frighten children… we all hope…

As for me, I pride myself on my wits and my cunning, having had abilities at a young age to be observant of my surroundings, to quickly learn skills and information, and, dare I say, to be slightly manipulative with my older siblings. I also pride myself on my loyalty and empathy. My family and my house always comes first before anything else, and, to a fault, I often let my heart get in the way of logical decision-making. I may have mischievously tormented my brothers and sisters (and I still do, to an extent), but I would never betray, dishonor, or hurt any of them. As a noble, I’ve had the opportunity to sharpen my skills at both close and ranged combat, but I’m unfortunately not as agile or swift as I’d like to be. My brothers have always told me to “stop fighting like a girl”, which always angered me for two reasons: a) I never felt like much of a girl, and b) they’re not wrong. As a result, my prowess with a spear or a bow, while fair, leaves a lot to be desired. However, what I lack in combat skills and strength I make up for in health, spirit, industriousness, courage, intelligence, and, yes, sneakiness. I really make up for everything in sneakiness.

Unbeknownst to me, I’ll soon be embarking upon an epic journey. Adventure and hardship await, but am I truly ready to undertake such a destiny? Only time will tell.

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