Duchy of Hrive`Liuothol

Far in the northern waters of Arethane lies the island Duchy of Hrive`Liuothol, a land wrapped in glacial beauty and solemn endurance. There are no mountains here, only sweeping glacial plains, jagged coastal cliffs, and quiet pine forests wrapped in eternal mist. It is a place where silence reigns and the land seems suspended in ancient slumber. This frigid duchy stands as a bastion of elven tenacity against nature's cruelty, and the encroachments of ancient enemies. For millennia, the Snow Elves lived here in tight-knit clans, bound by survival and ancestral ostracism. Amid famine, storms, and the aftermath of a devastating Drow ambush known as the White Scourge, they built a fiercely independent culture, forming villages of dome-shaped huts made from woven wood and packed snow, draped in furs and hides.

The legacy of the Drow's surprise attack haunts them still. That brutal raid nearly extinguished the Snow Elves, leaving behind songs of sorrow and a resolve as cold and sharp as their environment. Ever since, the Snow Elves have lived in isolation, standoffish and proud. This would remain unchanged until the War of Unification, when the elven king Rhysanus Ariquis sought to consolidate the fractured elven nations under one banner. He knew that unifying the mainland was not enough, he would need the northern isles, too. And so his gaze turned to Hrive`Liuothol.

In the past, no envoy could pierce the silence of the Snow Elves. No noble, however refined, could gain their respect. The Snow Elves refused envoys, laughed at armies, and barred their shores. Rhysanus intended to offer something unexpected. He arrived, not with armies but with offerings, oaths, and weapons and knowledge to fight their enemies. He also offered his son to guide and lead them into a prosperity they had never known. Saerevon crossed the icy straits and spent a full year walking the island, clan to clan, sleeping in snow caves and faerie glades, speaking the old tongue and enduring the rites of wind and ice. In time, he was accepted, not as a conqueror, but as a brother and a leader.

Ruling from the frost-hewn citadel of Virelin`Tor, in the capital city of Jeallyrae, Saerevon Caer`Thalarin, is now Duke. His people, mostly Ice Elves, along with a significant population of Moon Elves and hardy Wood Elves and some Grey Elves, have adapted their culture, crafts, and magic to the rhythm of the tundra and the howl of the winter wolves.

Though remote, Hrive`Liuothol is far from forgotten. Its glacial mines yield veins of star-ice and moon-silver, rare minerals that hum with arcane potential. The duchy is also home to mysterious snow-temples, where wind-chanters and frost-seers weave magic from the auroras that ripple across the skies. These relics of a long forgotten era remain largely unexplored, some sealed by runes even the eldest mages dare not unbind. Though no peaks crown the island, Hrive`Liuothol's power lies in its vast forests, frozen inland lakes, mystic ice plains, and coastal cliffs veiled in storm. Its weather is as much an enemy as any invader. The duchy is infamous for white squalls, sudden sleet tempests, and aurora storms, fey-charged northern lights that cause spell surges and ghostly phenomena.

The Snow Elves still dwell in clan villages, each fiercely self-governing, spread across the interior in areas sacred to the elements. They are master trappers, beast tamers, and spiritualists, favoring druids, rangers, and thieves over wizards and warmagic. Most distrust fire and metal, and instead wear white dragonhide armor crafted only in the island's holy shrines.

More than any other Elven domain, Hrive`Liuothol is intertwined with the Fae. Its glacial forests and frostglens are home to an uncountable host of faeries, both beautiful and terrifying. The Winter Court is rumored to walk the shores of Lake Jeall, seen only by moonlight. It is said that the island is ruled not just by its Duke, but by ancient pacts signed in frost and sealed with song. Some believe the Fae allow the elves to remain, so long as they do not forget who truly owns the land. Estimates place the Fae population at three to five times the elven one, though no census has ever succeeded in counting them.

But all is not serene beneath the ice. Hrive`Liuothol is a land in near-constant conflict. Beyond the howling glaciers roam the savage Iceborn Ork raiders, twisted creatures birthed of ancient curses and cold sorcery. They descend in moonless nights upon border outposts and mining camps, their frost-blades singing murder through the snow. The duchy also suffers from the remnants of the Frostbound, a cursed legion of undead elves once banished here during the Age of Fracture. These spectral warriors rise with the blizzards, seeking vengeance and warmth long denied.

Despite its dangers, Hrive`Liuothol has endured. Its people are stoic and suspicious of outsiders, but bound by deep loyalty to one another. Feasts are rare but sacred, built around solstice rituals, storytelling, and songs sung in harmony with the winter winds. Duels are fought not over pride, but survival, and those who cheat fate earn both reverence and fear.

The Duchy remains one of the most martial in all of Arethane. Its Winterguard, clad in shimmering white mithral and wielding spears tipped with frozen starlight, are among the finest skirmishers in the realm. They patrol the icy wilderness tirelessly, eyes always to the mountains, ever watching for the return of what frost buries but never truly forgets.

Though few choose to travel to Hrive`Liuothol, fewer still ever forget it. It is a land of old blood, colder truths, and glories locked beneath the snow.

Ruler: Saerevon Caer`Thalarin, Duke of Hrive`Liuotho and Son of T`Sharra and Daerythia Caer`Thalarin, Duchess of Hrive`Liuotho, Wife of Saerevon Capital: Jeallyrae:

Population of Hrive`Liuothol: 7,800,000