The Untamed Heart of Anarkand


Baraniendemor is a land of extremes. Its mountain range is the largest in all of Anarkand, with jagged peaks reaching heights of over 9,000 metres (29,527 ft), dwarfing the ranges of other nations. These mountains dominate the horizon, capped in snow year-round, and filled with treacherous passes, sheer cliffs, and glacial valleys that claim countless lives.


Yet it is not only mountains that define Baraniendemor. Vast forests, lush flatlands, thundering waterfalls, and winding stone-carved rivers make it one of the most breathtaking natural realms on the planet. Much of the land remains untouched, sacred to those who dwell there.



The People

Baraniendemor has no central government, no census, and no unifying state. Instead, its people live as tribes, clans, and families, deeply bound to the land and fiercely protective of it. Outsiders speak of them as savages, but those who know them recognise a culture built on strength, honour, and survival in one of the harshest, yet most beautiful environments imaginable.

Amongst the most famed are:


The Onaghga were once the soul of western Baraniendemor, towering, gentle giants who lived in harmony with the land. At over fifteen feet tall, covered in thick hides of hair, they tended the forests and valleys with quiet wisdom. Their deep, resonant voices carried songs said to heal the land and bring balance to the wilds.


For centuries, the tribes revered them as guardians, protectors, and teachers. Rituals and songs were dedicated to them; their presence was a living covenant between humankind and nature.


But as Anarkian civilisations expanded, greed consumed reverence. Tales of the Onaghga’s flesh, strength, and durability spread across the continents. What began as isolated hunts spiralled into organised campaigns of slaughter and enslavement. Their meat became a delicacy for the powerful, their bones and hides turned into prized armour and weapons. Those spared from death were shackled and forced into brutal labour, building monuments, mining, and other tasks no human could.


The Onaghga dwindled to extinction. All but one: Garret, the Last of the Onaghga, who wanders the mountains still, a living ghost of a betrayed people. To the tribes, his survival is a sacred reminder of the greed of outsiders, and a symbol of endurance in the face of annihilation.


Where the Onaghga embodied peace, the Kahns embody strength, blood, and iron. The Kahns are a warrior race, known the world over for their ferocity, size, and barbarity. Larger and stronger than even the famed Pescarans, they are brutal in battle, feared for their savagery yet respected for their loyalty and unity.


Their society is tribal yet egalitarian: women and men fight, lead, and rule as equals. Families form the heart of Kahn culture, and honour is their lifeblood. To betray one’s tribe, family, or homeland is unthinkable. Any Kahn who abandons their people is disavowed, and if they ever return, they are subjected to a public death by one of five infamous torture rituals. The corpse is displayed in the birthplace of the traitor as a warning - a grim but powerful reaffirmation of loyalty.


Kahn children are raised to fight, to endure pain, and to understand that death in dishonour is worse than death in battle. Their empire is less a nation than a vast, unyielding brotherhood, bound together by blood, pride, and fearsome loyalty.


The Being at the Summit

What draws so many to attempt the deadly ascent of Baraniendemor’s highest peak is the legend of the Being at the Summit. No two accounts agree on what it truly is. Some claim it is a forgotten Precursor, others a celestial guardian. One thing that can be confirmed though, is the fact that not a single being that has reached the summit has ever returned.



Nature’s Dominion

Baraniendemor is home to more species of flora and fauna than anywhere else on Anarkand, save the seas. Beasts of every shape prowl the forests, soar above the mountains, and hunt across the plains. Many species are unique to the region, unknown to outsiders save in whispered stories.


This abundance reinforces the tribal respect for nature. Every hunt is sacred, every tree felled honoured, and every river crossing approached with ritual. To the Baraniendemor tribes, the land is not a resource but a living kin, demanding both reverence and ferocity in its defence.



Reputation Beyond Its Borders

Other nations regard Baraniendemor with a mix of awe and caution. The land has never been conquered, never truly mapped, and never brought under external control. Traders skirt its borders, mercenaries and adventurers seek its warriors, but no army has ever succeeded in taming its mountains.

To many, Baraniendemor is the last untamed realm of Anarkand, a place where legend breathes, where nature reigns supreme, and where humanity lives in its rawest, fiercest form.