Basicinformation | The Verdant Dynasty

"A culture's teachings, and most importantly, the essence of its identity, attains definition via conflict. They either find themselves or discover themselves lacking."

Valerna Jorgenskull

Full Name: Valerna Jorgenskull (real name, Cicilly Del'Henberheim.)

Nicknames: Vally girl, the boobarian (A joke name amongst close friends.)

Titles: Breaker of wills, Scriber of flesh, Queen of the Verdant Dynasty, The Venust Spider.

Race: The giants of the verdant dynasty view the world as a vast carcass from which all life emerges and returns in an eternal cycle. Their faith, known as the Undying Tree, symbolizes this belief, with roots reaching deep into the underworld, a trunk representing the material plane, and branches piercing through the heavens. They see all life as coursing up and down this tree, with each cycle culminating in a new beginning when the world ends, leaving behind a seedling to start existence anew.

Death Rituals and Flesh Magic

The giants seek guidance from their ancestors by examining their remains, believing organs, bones, and blood hold the keys to unlocking their potential. They tattoo their cremated remains onto their skin as symbols of battle accomplishments. Rumors abound of their ability to alter body size and parts—a skill mastered by influential giants, functioning as a prestigious status symbol.

Weaponry and Architecture

For giants, a weapon is an extension of will. They use carcasses to construct elaborate bone structures and armaments. Skin is tanned into leather linings for dwellings adorned with roofs shaped like crab shells and walls resembling skeletal structures, with protruding ribs serving as columns. The Jorgenskull tribe's unification under a single banner, symbolized by the spider and skull, holds deep cultural significance.

Leadership and Succession

The giants revere their Matron for wisdom. When a ruler dies, their skeletal remains enhance the throne, symbolizing the passing of knowledge and power. Those deemed unworthy are left outside to be consumed by carrion. Giants celebrate sexuality and use narcotics freely, adorning themselves with piercings, split tongues, and colorful garbs of plumage and furs.

Nature Veneration and Arachnid Reverence

Giants venerate the natural order with respect and prudence, offering prayers of appreciation for fallen quarry. They wear spider silk as under armor, and Arachnoids serve as companions, considered holy symbols and servants of their arachnid queen. The slaughter of Araneae is deemed profane, reflecting the giants' deep reverence for nature and its inhabitants.

Faith and the Undying Tree

The Giants of Hextor revere the world as an endless cycle of death, rebirth, and transformation, represented through their faith in the Undying Tree. With roots stretching deep into the underworld, its trunk represents the physical plane, and its branches ascend toward the heavens. Life flows between these realms, with each cycle’s end nourishing the birth of the next. This deeply sacred connection sees giants honor death as an integral part of life, with their ancestors' remains tattooed onto their bodies, symbolizing wisdom, battle prowess, and continuity. Their reverence for the dead and their ability to draw strength from the decayed flesh of their forebears allows them to reshape their physical forms, symbolizing both power and devotion.

The Schism: House of the Red Sap and Florentina’s Rise

Once united under the ancient tenets of the House of the Red Sap, the Giants of Hextor have since splintered, divided between loyalty to the old ways and the brutal doctrine of Florentina Jorgenskull. The House of the Red Sap, an elite force rooted in the mystical ichor drawn from the flesh trees of the swamp, cultivated mastery over mental manipulation, alchemical power, and domination through sacred rites. Giants adhering to the House still uphold these secretive rituals, using the ichor to dominate their enemies in the shadows.

Florentina, however, leads her followers with brute strength, casting aside secrecy in favor of sheer power and conquest. Her faction, symbolized by the spider and skull, has eschewed the reliance on ritualistic sorcery in favor of war and domination, seeking to forge a new empire.

The Cycle of Life, Death, and Flesh Magic

For these giants, life is but a carcass—an endless body that they shape, transform, and consume in both life and death. Flesh magic courses through their society, with the manipulation of body size and the augmentation of limbs as symbols of prestige. Their culture is bound to the flesh trees, whose red sap serves as both spiritual sustenance and practical resource, reinforcing their deep connection to the Great Serpent, a divine representation of chaos and renewal. Their flesh is consumed or returned to the land upon death, merging once more with the Undying Tree in an eternal cycle of life, decay, and rebirth.

Weaponry, Architecture, and the Path of Power

The giants build their cities from bones and sinew, towering monuments of conquest and death. Their structures, ribbed and towering like the skeletons of ancient beasts, stand as testament to their strength. Weaponry, too, is an extension of the body, with each blade and spear imbued with the essence of the beasts they have slain. The rise of Florentina Jorgenskull has brought new symbols of power—her throne forged from the bones of former rulers, her armies clad in spider silk under armor, walking with the authority of conquest. Power is their currency, with death and rebirth driving their dominance.

Reverence for Nature and Arachnids

The giants hold nature in deep veneration, offering prayers and sacrifices for every hunt, honoring the balance of life and death. The Araneae, revered as sacred, are symbols of the cycle, their webs mimicking the intricate interplay between life’s fragility and strength. To harm an arachnid is sacrilege, for they represent the sacred weavers of the world’s cosmic web, and the giants walk in harmony with these creatures. Spider silk is worn as a protective veil, and those who defile these holy creatures face the wrath of their people. Their queen, worshiped as the embodiment of the Great Serpent, is a symbol of both life’s vitality and death’s inevitability.

Schism and the New Path

The schism between the House of the Red Sap and Florentina’s followers is one of secrecy versus strength. The Red Sap clings to the ancient ways, wielding ichor, manipulation, and alchemical mastery, while Florentina and her supporters embrace raw power and direct conquest. These factions now live in an uneasy tension, with the future of the giants of Hextor hanging in the balance. Will they return to the ancient cycle of the Red Sap or forge a new future through strength and domination? Only time will tell, for the giants of Hextor are, like the Undying Tree, rooted in the past but always growing toward the future.

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Day of Birth: unknown

Age: 2070(Estimated)

Hair: Her hair is a flowing river of deep burgundy, cascading down like a midnight waterfall kissed by moonlight. Each strand seems to possess a life of its own, reflecting a satin sheen that mirrors the mysterious allure of dusk. It tumbles in wild yet deliberate waves, like the tempestuous winds of an untouched wilderness, framed by the elegance of her posture, as if the very forest bends to her will. The rich, earthy hues of her locks invoke the spirit of twilight, as if the day itself melts into the mystery of the night.

In the faintest glimmer of light, her hair reveals secrets, hidden embers flickering within the strands, reminiscent of dying coals in a hearth. These fiery highlights dance beneath the surface, casting illusions of warmth amidst the darkness. Her hair seems to embody the essence of nature itself—a force that is both untamable and controlled, balanced between wild abandon and poised grace, making her not only a vision but a manifestation of the untamed elements.

As she moves, her tresses shift and sway with a graceful autonomy, as though the very air around her is enchanted, coaxing the tendrils to dance with each step. They ripple like waves beneath a crimson sunset, capturing the essence of wildfires on the horizon, blazing softly against the quiet night. This hair is not just an adornment but an extension of her essence—wild, elegant, and unfathomably deep, a perfect metaphor for the duality she embodies: a woman of untamed nature and unshakable control.

Skin: Her pulchritudinous skin, rich with the hue of polished mahogany, carries the essence of centuries of life, as if the very forests whispered their secrets to her birth. It exudes a warmth that feels ancient and untouchable, like the oldest of woods, still standing proud after centuries of growth. Each facet of her complexion seems kissed by a muted glow, a subtle radiance that does not reflect the light but absorbs it, much like the fertile earth after the rains. This deep, earthly tone suggests an inner vitality, perhaps even a magic coursing through her veins, binding her to the world beneath her feet.

Her flesh is not just a surface, but a canvas painted by the hands of time itself, embodying the strength and resilience of the earth. It is a complexion that does not boast or demand attention but quietly commands respect, much like a mountain rising in the distance, its presence undeniable and eternal. Her skin, smooth yet rich in texture, carries the depth of the earth after a thunderstorm, absorbing all light into its being as though to protect its secrets from the eyes of the unworthy. There is a subtle sheen to it, like embers hidden beneath the ash, glowing with a barely contained power.

There is a grace in the way her skin captures shadows and light, as though the universe itself was her sculptor, using the finest of chisels to craft her form. Her high cheekbones carry a faint flush, not unlike the warmth of a hearth deep in the heart of winter, subtle but full of life. It is the hue of survival, the color of one who has weathered storms and emerged unscathed.

Valerna stands as a figure of strength and quiet might, her skin a testament to the natural forces that have shaped her. It carries within it the stories of countless generations, the weight of soil and stone, yet it glows with an almost ethereal beauty.

Eyes: The formosity of her eyes, like ponds of liquid twilight, draw you in with their depth and mystery, as though the very essence of night itself had been entwined into their being. They shimmer with the hue of storm clouds gathering on the horizon, full of unspoken promises and the quiet chaos of nature. Flecks of silver dance within the stormy gray, catching the light like distant flashes of lightning, fleeting but powerful. These shimmering fragments seem to hold the energy of the storm, waiting to be unleashed. Her gaze carries the weight of an approaching tempest, and in it, one can sense both the calm and the fury that lie just beneath the surface.

Framed by dark, luscious lashes, her eyes are a gateway into a realm of untold secrets and hidden desires. Each lash casts a delicate shadow, further deepening the enigma they present, as though they guard the boundaries of a world known only to her. These lashes curl naturally, drawing attention to the vibrant glow within her gaze—a glow that contrasts sharply with the rich, rusty tone of her skin, making her eyes stand out all the more. It is as if they are illuminated from within, casting a soft light that seems almost otherworldly. There is an intensity in her eyes that cannot be ignored, a silent invitation and challenge, daring you to peer deeper, to uncover what lies hidden within the stormy depths.

To look into her eyes is to feel both the allure and the danger of the unknown. They’re enchanting in their vibrancy, captivating anyone who dares meet them, yet there is an edge to her gaze that holds you in place, as though she could see through the very layers of your soul. The contrast between her twilight gaze and her dusky, earth-toned complexion makes her eyes all the more mesmerizing—portals that seem to glow with an inner pyre, both seductive and unreadable. In her gaze, you can sense the weight of a thousand stories untold, secrets she guards with quiet intensity, revealing only to those who can endure the storm and the stillness within her soul.

Height: 13' (Can be 7-19 ft pending if she uses her powers.)

Weight: 2300 Lbs

Place of Residence: At the very heart of the Verdant Dynasty lies its resplendent capital, an imposing and enigmatic city where the raw power of nature melds with the ingenuity of its inhabitants. This capital, a cluster of communal pyramid-like towers, rises from the jungle floor, their structures fused with the skeletal remains of their brethren, victims, or prey. These towers, both majestic and macabre, are surrounded by fortified walls that blend seamlessly with the verdant foliage, creating a natural fortress at the jungle's edge.

The city is a labyrinthine marvel, connected by a network of marrow and cartilage roads that pulse like veins through the heart of the jungle. These roads, both resilient and flexible, wind through the alien-like buildings, creating a sense of organic unity that defies conventional architecture. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and exotic flora, the sounds of the jungle mingling with the hum of urban life.

At the core of this thriving metropolis lies the military academy, a bastion of discipline and training where the jungle's finest warriors hone their skills. The academy, housed within the tallest of the pyramid towers, is a place of rigorous education and physical training. Here, recruits are taught the art of war, survival, and the mystical traditions of the Verdant Dynasty. The walls of the academy are adorned with trophies from past victories, a testament to the prowess of the jungle's defenders.

Adjacent to the academy is a bustling bazaar, a vibrant marketplace where the wealth of the jungle is on full display. Merchants from across the empire and beyond converge here, their stalls brimming with exotic goods, rare spices, and fantastical artifacts. The bazaar is a cacophony of sights, sounds, and scents, a place where commerce and culture collide. Foreign traders bring wonderments from distant lands, their wares adding to the rich tapestry of life in the capital.

The secrets of the Verdant Dynasty's craft are guarded within hidden workshops and laboratories scattered throughout the city. These clandestine chambers are the birthplace of the dynasty's most potent creations, from alchemical potions to enchanted weaponry. Master craftsmen and mystics work tirelessly, their efforts shrouded in secrecy and protected by powerful wards. The fruits of their labor are distributed as needed, ensuring the dynasty remains at the forefront of magical and technological innovation.

Within the walls of the capital, the jungle forces meet as equals in a grand council chamber, a place where policies are debated, grievances expressed, and theoretical magical applications witnessed. This chamber, a vast hall within the central pyramid, is adorned with intricate carvings and illuminated by bioluminescent fungi. Representatives from every faction of the Verdant Dynasty gather here, their voices echoing through the chamber as they shape the future of their empire.

Offerings from the various factions are brought into the city, their distribution managed with meticulous care to ensure the prosperity and stability of the dynasty. These offerings, ranging from precious metals and gemstones to medicinal herbs and enchanted items, are stored within secure vaults and allocated according to need. The efficient management of these resources is a testament to the governance and unity of the Verdant Dynasty.

The capital of the Verdant Dynasty is a place where the untamed beauty of the jungle meets the ingenuity of its people. It is a city of contrasts, where ancient traditions and cutting-edge innovations coexist in harmony. This capital, a beacon of power and unity, stands as a testament to the enduring strength and vision of the jungle empire. Here, amidst the towering pyramids and bustling streets, the heart of the Verdant Dynasty beats strong, a symbol of resilience and hope for all who dwell within its borders.

Place of Birth: The Verdant realm is an overgrown province filled with myth and mystery. A heartland where these two things intersect, twist and mingle. A place that is defined by their universal tongue and cultural pillars. Unity presented the jungle's people with a golden age. The belief in the spider delivered them security and prosperity unparalleled when contrasted with the other nations. Faith that they stand stronger when unified than squabbling over superficial details like race, tribe, or creed.

Their unwavering devotion to this belief allowed the Verdant Dynasty to transcend and evolve into the world power it is today. The filigree of the spider is far-reaching, rendering both progress and security to the inhabitants who call the jungle home. Giant structures of bone and web blend marvelously with the towers of lumber that reach the heavens. The thick leaves supply shade as the massive fungus, kaleidoscopic flowers, plentiful ferns, and nutritious roots provide health to the land.

The southern providence (Skeletal Highway) is a buffer, a massive savannah wedged between the white desert and the maze of trees. Toward the southernmost points, its people dwell within structures of fungus. While along the coasts, one might notice the region's architecture shifting from mushroom towers to abodes composed of bone to look like the hollowed carcasses of crustaceans. If one should trek north to the border of the jungle. The dwellings will alter to that of wood, with intricate engravings documenting the region's history.

Rivers, springs, and lakes provide the land with sufficient water to support its population. While its tunnels and caves are used to raise arthropods whose eggs are harvested for food. And the volcanic ash is imported from the south to supply much-needed nutrients to their soil. As one travels, one might hear the calls of giant birds and dinosaurs and the chirping of outlandish insects. All of which call this savannah home.

North of the Skeletal Highway lies the beating heart of the dynasty. A thick expanse of unnaturally large trees whose branches seemingly pierce the sky. Nested within its branches are towns known as the Ironbark Towers, and underneath its shades are hamlets.

To the west lies the Hearth of the Earth, a metropolis carved into the mountain ripe with technological wonderment. A city filled with artificial fixtures of light that use crystals to pierce the darkness. Affixed to the walls are pipes of bronze propelling energy to its citizens' workshops, factories, and residences. A port on the other side of the mountain ensures that naval bombardment or siege would prove ineffective while allowing it to function as a port hub for the western seas

The Heart of the Earth is the epicenter of advancement, both militarily and tech aimed to enhance the daily lives of the nation's people. The Goatkin who founded this marvel is industrious, leading others to anoint it "The city that never hushes" due to the steady running of its installations.

Next door lies the Lunar veil, the domain of the Mothkela. The capital of medical and alchemical advancement. Its people live within massive pyramid structures that are buried into the earth. The exterior is covered in farms, and the shepherds can be seen herding their giant sloths amidst the thicket. The Urk-til River provides fish. Ships ferrying goods and smaller vessels to gather the bounty of its waters can be spotted voyaging across its surface.

The locals use crafts of lumber or giant turtles to traverse the river. The lunar veil appropriates it to operate as the middleman between the Hearth of the Earth and the Boneyard.

There, within the center of the dynasty, is the Boneyard. An intricate labyrinth of monumental towers of bone with web bridges linking them. The city persists as the drumming core of the superpower; within its borders, all political affairs are settled. It stands as the center of education and mercantile. Its vast streets are roved by armed guards with arachnids as helpers to assist with upholding order. And overlooking the entirety of this engineering achievement is a massive skull that is the palace of the world, with a spinal bridge uniting it with the rest of the city.

Birthplace of the Dynasty, the metropolis is populated by a diverse assemblage of the motherland's citizens. To the east, one will happen across the massive graveyard known only as the outer rim. This outpost is a military installation where secret weapons are evaluated for field use. The maze of remains also works as the training depot for the Red Sap, the Verdant Dynasty's special task force. Here, those who enlist, hone their crafts while studying alchemy and science. At the core of this enigmatic region, is a wilderness composed of carcasses where the Red Sap harvests the ichor that gives them their name.

The Bader'kekrhan have recently moved in to aid with the production of armaments via their undead labor force. It is a portion shrouded in mystery where the "dark arts'' are studied to bolster their military prowess. A legion of shambling dead and spiders patrol its exterior, where traps abound to ensnare any who might be foolish enough to pry.

North of the great river and to the east resides the Necrotic swamplands. Within the quagmire, one can discover Kilk-Mire, the largest northern city. The bog is home to large dragonflies, misquotes, corpse flies, Quetzalcoatlus, and roving predatory dinosaurs.

The hearty people are bred for war and are comprised of Toadfolk and Turtlefolk. They serve the warden of the north, who is the second in command, should the current administration fall prey to an attack. They exist to operate as the tip of the spear, their tenacity only overshadowed by their conquest of an otherwise inhospitable patch of silt.

Here, the priestess of the old order dwells, fusing the ancient traditions with modern culture. The school of flesh magic and anatomy overseen by the Red Sap to propel the Giant's amplitude for such fields to new zeniths.

The Verdant Dynasty is an umbrella state. It forms a parliament where each species is given a platform to air their problems. The local leaders of the races assemble within various cities to discuss policies. In short, the positions of power are held by representatives. The diverse nation-states will have two to four mediators specializing in different fields to ensure their viewpoints are heard and entertained. A voting system keeps all proceedings and decisions to guarantee a favorable outcome.

This has encouraged the extension of olive branches to gain favor among the vastly distinct races. They're all Jorgenskull, proceeded by their heritage within their minds. A camaraderie that has trickled down to even the lowliest of social classes, aiding a more serene integration. Adopting one another's holidays, language, and culture gives way to a unity that transcends their stark visual differences. The continued prosperity of the Dynasty supersedes their territories.

Cultural pollination has resulted from such dealings, furthering a sense of fellowship. The Matron is called to break such standstills if a dispute leads to a tie. Within their system, the role of the "Queen" holds little power. The monarch's influence is kept at a minimum to prevent corruption within the Senate. And while she can make proposals, the chieftain is beholden to the committee's determinations. The rationale behind such a unique leadership structure is that power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely. And it's less likely that a collective of ambassadors will fall prey to such taints and that wisdom can be found within a multitude over a singular person.

A hearing will be called if a member presents themselves as a threat. Should such allegations be substantiated, they will be executed for endeavoring to disrupt the equilibrium of the Verdant Dynasty.

The individual cultures of the races live alongside a predominant one. They are all Jorgenskull first and their respective races second. Such a custom has facilitated a concord across the diverse range of species and their perspectives. The jungle's inhabitants adorn themselves in colorful and complex threading, embellishing themselves with a kaleidoscopic array of peacock feathers and gold jewelry. Additionally, they can be seen sporting the furs and scales of local wildlife as a symbol of tribute to the natural order.

The expected greeting is a bow when a lesser meets a more prominent figure in social standing—youngsters to their elders and lower class to the upper echelon of society. Those within the court and military bash their dominant hand against their bosom as a gesture of respect. The act represents giving one's heart and thus allegiance to those governing over them. Those at the top reciprocate such reverence, and puffing one's breast with pride is considered unsightly. The affluent often hand out food to the lower class or alms to those who've suffered a recent tragedy.

The people share a common language. However, each species has its own dialect. They carry "ax money" around to pay for goods made of bone with a gold coating. On the front side are various skulls or spiders depending on the currency's value, and the back is always the tree of life.

Provincial “Chiefs “oversee each province, representing their local tribe (Government.) However, the law of the Dynasty supersedes any legislation passed on a local level. The belief structure of each culture is respected when dealing with other groups. (For Example) If an area outlaws necromancy, that ruling won't apply to Bader'kerkhan due to their religious institutions and beliefs. Across all regions, the guards are regarded as an extension of the Dynasty. Therefore, any act of aggression or defiance is seen as an affront to the spirit of the empire.

Education across tribal (State) lines is permitted regardless of the species of the applicant. Despite their internal forbearance, the same rights and luxuries do not apply to outlanders. The rights of the people transcend any immigrants unless they're given a writ. Foreigners are seen universally with a degree of distrust. Open aggression isn't legal, but they will be wary until said nonnative demonstrates themselves. The universities are open to the public as long as they serve the state for eight years following the completion of their degree.

The structures of the Verdant Dynasty are either stone, wood, or, most commonly, Bone with spider webbings. The Jorgenskulls enhance the bone plating to be akin to steel. Their homes are sturdy and nearly fireproof, and the web system allows them to take them down and rebuild them to relocate in the event of a disaster.

Alignment: Morality, in its simplest form, is often reduced to a shallow dichotomy, a binary of light and shadow, as if the human condition could be constrained to mere opposites. But for Valerna, such trivial categorization feels laughable, like attempting to contain the vastness of the sea within the confines of a fragile cup. She, who has traversed the endless dunes of time and space, understands that moral compasses, too, are not rigid, but fluid, constantly shifting and turning as one weaves through the canvas of life. To judge someone by a mere color or shade is to deny the depth of their existence.

Morality is not a linear spectrum but a web—a labyrinthine nexus of choices, intentions, and consequences, each strand quivering with the vibrations of decisions made and paths not taken. The threads of this web cross and intersect. One may tread lightly on a strand of altruism only to inadvertently pull upon a thread of selfishness.

The question of morality is ultimately determined by the wake left in her passage—the echoes and ripples that reverberate long after she has moved on. She understands that morality is not the responsibility of the self but the perception of others, shaped by those affected by her actions. In the end, the moral identity one bears is often a reflection in the eyes of others, not a self-constructed mantle. One's virtue or vice may be seen differently through the eyes of the many, and it is in their whispers that one’s true moral compass is constructed.

In the grand span of her sojourn through existence, Valerna has come to view such judgments as transient as the flickering stars above. One may be seen as a hero one day and a villain the next, depending on whose story is being told and whose interests are being served. Morality, then, becomes a mere narrative device, wielded to craft tales that soothe or terrify, to justify or condemn. Like the ancient philosophers whose names are long forgotten, she knows that the pursuit of a singular, righteous path is a fool's errand.

To believe in rigid moral structures is to deny the complexity of existence, to cage the infinite within the boundaries of human thought. In this vast, cosmic play of life, where stars are born and die without judgment, how can any creature's actions be measured on such a flimsy scale? Valerna’s life is too expansive, her experiences too myriad, to be captured by the morality of mortals. She dances to a rhythm that is neither right nor wrong, good nor evil, but simply is. Hers is a morality of the void, where every action is both necessary and insignificant in the grand expanse of time.

She acknowledges that her "morality" is not for her to decide. It is not her place to declare herself a saint or sinner. Instead, it is the echoes of her passage, the aftershocks of her presence, that will determine how she is remembered, how she is judged. And even then, she knows, such judgments will fade, like dust on the wind. For in the endless river of time, all moralities are but short-lived ripples, soon forgotten, as the macrocosm marches on.

Relationship: Single

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Economic status: Upper Class

Wealth: Valerna’s wealth, accrued over millennia, is vast beyond mortal comprehension. Her estates, sprawling throughout the heart of the jungle, are unparalleled in their beauty and abundance. Verdant groves yield coffee and sugar, precious commodities traded across realms. Her libraries, hidden among the thick canopies, are grand citadels of knowledge, each tome within chronicling the rise and fall of empires, the intricacies of lost technologies, and the secrets of forgotten magics. The energy crystals that power much of her dynasty’s infrastructure are mined from the deepest veins of the earth, humming with ancient power. This natural bounty, combined with the fruits of the jungle—rich spices, exotic fruits, and medicinal plants—make her realm a hub of wealth and trade.

Her immortality has afforded her a unique advantage in the accumulation of this immense fortune. Where mortal rulers live and die by the short whims of time, Valerna’s wealth has steadily grown over countless lifetimes, each century seeing new expansions of her assets. She has witnessed economic cycles rise and fall, and with each shift, she has adapted, securing new resources and investments while others floundered. This undying wisdom has made her a master of resource management, a strategist in both the battlefield and in the world of commerce. Her understanding of trade, politics, and human (and non-human) behavior has been honed to a point, allowing her to navigate the complexities of an ever-changing world with an unmatched foresight.

Yet, for all this wealth and power, it weighs upon her like a chain. Valerna knows all too well that material riches are meaningless if they do not serve the needs of her people. As a reluctant leader, she harbors a deep-seated fear of failure—a fear that she might let down the very souls she has sworn to protect. Despite her monumental wealth, she has no personal indulgence in it; her concern lies with the long-term prosperity of her people. Every estate, every library, every field of energy crystals is a reminder of the responsibility that binds her to her role. Should she falter, everything could be lost, and the jungle would descend into chaos.

She has seen this pattern repeated throughout history. Mortal leaders, no matter how benevolent or ambitious, often fall short. Their failures are chronicled in the very history books she has penned—pages filled with wars, betrayals, greed, and ambition gone awry. Valerna, with her eons of experience, understands that the burden of leadership cannot be left in the hands of the fallible. Time and again, others have taken the reins, only to let hubris or short-sightedness erode what should have been carefully protected. Thus, reluctantly, she takes on the mantle of a benevolent dictator, convinced that she is the only one capable of steering her people toward a stable future.

Her wealth and power, amassed through centuries, may seem to outsiders as the ultimate prize. To her, it is a curse as much as it is a blessing. She remains vigilant, always looking ahead to the next challenge or threat that could destabilize the delicate equilibrium she has maintained for so long. The energy crystals that light her cities, the coffee and sugar that sustain her economy, the knowledge locked within her vast libraries—all of it can be undone in a single moment of complacency or miscalculation. For Valerna, the cost of failure is too great to bear.

The position of chieftain, while granting her immense power, has only isolated her further. She walks a lonely path, knowing that others will never truly understand the weight of the decisions she must make. To lead is to be burdened, and to lead immortally is to be burdened forever. Her vast fortune only heightens the stakes; her wealth must be wielded with precision and care, for any misstep could ripple into catastrophe for her people. And in that constant state of vigilance, she finds little comfort in her riches.

Valerna sees herself as the guardian of a legacy that transcends her own lifespan, as well as those of her people. Her libraries, filled with the failures and lessons of history, serve as a testament to her desire to safeguard future generations from repeating the same mistakes. The bounty of the jungle, from the sugar and coffee to the energy crystals, is not hers to hoard but to manage for the continued survival of her realm. The responsibility, the wealth, and the knowledge are a heavy crown to bear, but she bears it because she must. There is no one else capable, no one else she trusts to get it right. History has already proven this truth many times over.

Vocation: Valerna, as the Chieftain and Savant of the Verdant Dynasty, is the embodiment of the paradoxical role of a benevolent dictator—an existence where mastery and morality intertwine with the burden of absolute power. She did not seize the crown for mere ambition; she took it because the mantle of leadership had been sullied by those who had failed before her. Their folly was palpable in every misguided decision, every compromise that eroded the essence of what the Verdant Dynasty could have been. Valerna, seeing this corruption, stepped forward not as a tyrant but as a guardian of order, wielding her iron will with a velvet touch, ensuring that her people could thrive under her reign.

Her rule is one that balances compassion with stern discipline. To lead is to understand that kindness, unchecked, becomes weakness. Valerna holds the reins of power tightly, aware that if they slip, chaos will reign. She has embraced a master morality, one born from experience and wisdom, rather than the subservient morality of the weak. In her, Nietzsche’s concept of the Übermensch finds a living form. She molds the Dynasty in her image—not out of cruelty, but because she knows that the strong must lead, and in strength lies the path to prosperity for all. Her decisions, though sometimes harsh, are never unjust; they are forged in the fires of a long-lived mind, tempered by the weight of centuries.

Yet, the crown is heavy. The weight of rulership presses down upon her, a burden that isolates her from those she governs. Her station is one of profound loneliness, for in her elevation, she has distanced herself from the very people she serves. The masses look upon her with reverence, but few dare to approach her as an equal. She sits at the pinnacle of the Verdant Dynasty, a towering figure among her people, and yet there is no one to stand at her side. Her throne is a solitary peak, and the winds of time erode the connections she once held dear. Friends fall, allies fade, but she remains, unaging and unyielding.

Her reign is one of great clarity and yet tremendous sorrow. Valerna understands that to lead is to sacrifice—her joy, her companionship, and sometimes her soul. The crown is not just a symbol of authority but a shackle, binding her to a destiny where she must be the pillar upon which all else rests. Others might falter under the immense pressure, but Valerna endures, for she knows that the Verdant Dynasty would collapse without her guiding hand. She does not shy away from this role, but it is a bitter knowledge that with every decision, she carves away a part of herself for the sake of her people.

She has found strength in this solitude, though it does not lessen the pain. The burden of leadership is one she bears with grace, knowing that the responsibility she shoulders is too great for any other. Hers is not the arrogance of a despot but the confidence of a savant who has seen the world in all its shades. She governs not with an iron fist but with a hand that knows when to be firm and when to be gentle. The Verdant Dynasty flourishes under her rule, but at a cost known only to her. And in the quiet moments, when the affairs of the Dynasty fall silent, she feels the weight of the crown most acutely, a constant reminder of the isolation that comes with true power.

Valerna’s reign is a reflection of the paradox of leadership: to guide is to isolate, to protect is to sacrifice, and to rule is to stand alone atop the world, ever watchful, ever weary. She understands the price of power and pays it willingly, knowing that she is the only one who can, but it is a lonely vigil, a solitary dance upon the precipice of greatness. In her, the Verdant Dynasty has found its guardian, but she, in turn, has found the heavy toll of leadership—a toll that weighs more than any crown. In truth, Valerna has never changed. She is still a slave, albeit the chains this time aren’t physical and of her own making.

Factional: The House of the Spider/ Bark

The House of the Spider reigns as a bastion of tradition and order; its members are revered as virtuous warriors clad in armor forged from bone mold and spider silk. These gallant defenders constitute the backbone of the military and police forces within the dynasty's borders, standing as vanguards against the encroaching forces of entropy and chaos domestically and abroad.

Those who pledge their allegiance to the House of the Spider enter into a lifetime of service, regarded as willing sacrifices upon the tabernacle of security. Their commitment to upholding the equilibrium and prosperity of the realm is unwavering, their dedication to duty transcending personal ambition or desire.

The House of the Spider is steeped in tradition, holding fast to the old ways and customs that have guided the dynasty for generations. Their uniforms are ornate and symbolic, each piece carrying the legacy of the branch of service to which it belongs. From the intricate filigree of the weavers to the sturdy craftsmanship of the hunters, every aspect of their attire reflects the honor and prestige of their noble calling.

Within their ranks, three distinct wings operate as the pillars of strength and unity: the Weavers, the Hunters, and the Spinners.

The Weavers are masters of intelligence and surveillance, their keen eyes and cunning minds able to discern even the subtlest of whispers. Through their intricate web of informants and operatives, they gather information and maintain a watchful vigil over the realm, ensuring that no threat goes unnoticed or unaddressed.

The Hunters, on the other hand, are the boots on the ground, the guardians of the province who patrol its borders and streets with unwavering resolve. They serve as the first line of defense against external threats and internal unrest, pursuing targets and eliminating them swiftly and decisively in the name of stability and security.

Lastly, the Spinners are charged with delving into the arcane mysteries of the universe, unraveling the threads of fate, and uncovering the secrets of the past. Through their tireless efforts, they seek to unlock the hidden knowledge buried within the annals of history, hoarding their discoveries within their webbing and protecting them at all costs from those seeking to exploit or misuse them.

Together, these three wings work in harmony under the banner of the House, their collective efforts directed towards a single goal: the continued prosperity and well-being of the Verdant Dynasty. With their persistent dedication and steadfast resolve, they stand as watchdogs of order in a world threatened by uncertainty, their legacy enduring as a testament to the long-lasting influence of tradition and unity.

Founded upon lodestars of empathy, munificence, and service to the needy, the House of the Bark is a beacon of hope and sanctuary for all seeking comfort within its embrace.

Led by the gracious guidance of Valerna Jorgenskull, the House of the Bark specializes in aiding the sick, the disabled, and the destitute. Through her munificent patronage, Valerna guarantees that the faction is well-funded and equipped to assist those in need, regardless of their station or circumstance.

In times of disaster or strife, the House of the Bark marshals its resources to deliver aid and relief to areas afflicted by calamity. Whether it be floods, fires, or other natural disasters, the faction's speedy and efficient response helps to minimize suffering and rekindle hope to those affected.

Its temples are central to its mission; they function as both zones of worship and havens for wayfarers in need. These temples, constructed from the sturdy bark of ancient trees and adorned with symbols of healing and protection, offer exhausted travelers a respite from their journeys.

Within the walls of these temples, travelers are greeted with open arms and provided with food, shelter, and medical care free of charge. Here, they can rest and convalesce, engage in commerce with local merchants, or find relief in the tranquil surroundings of the jungle.

Guarding each temple with staunch devotion are the Salticide, an elite group of soldiers who serve as the keepers of the House of the Bark and its followers. Named after the mighty spiders that dwell within the jungle, the Salticide are ferocious warriors who ensure that the will of the Araneae mother is carried out and her subjects are kept safe from harm.

In addition to their role as guardians, the Salticides are also tasked with aiding in monster slaying and the purging of bandits from the roads. With their unparalleled combat prowess and indefatigable devotion to justice, they stand as dauntless defenders of the Verdant Dynasty and its people.

Through their selfless acts of kindness and resolute adherence to the welfare of others, the House of the Bark and its devoted followers embody the virtues of compassion and solidarity that define the spirit of the Jungle. In their tenacious efforts to ameliorate despair and bring hope to the indigent, they stand as a shining example of the enduring power of empathy and charity in a world fraught with tribulation.

Language: Rooted in the melodic cadences of Old Germanic and with the lyrical nuances of Mesoamerican dialects, the tongue of the Verdant Dynasty is a living affidavit to the balanced coexistence of disparate worlds.

At its core, the language of the Verdant Dynasty is a symphony of sounds, each word sailing seamlessly into the next with a rhythmic cadence that echoes the pulse of the jungle itself. It is a vocabulary rich in poetic allegory, where every phrase is imbued with meaning and symbolism drawn from the natural world surrounding them.

Common sayings and proverbs in the Verdant Dynasty language often pay homage to the beasts of the jungle, with spiders holding a particularly revered place in their lexicon. To speak of forbearance and assiduousness, one might invoke the image of a spider spinning its intricate web, weaving the threads of destiny with meticulous care. Similarly, references to the jungle abound, with phrases evoking the untamed beauty and relentless vitality of their lush surroundings.

In the complex webbing of their dialect, every word is a brushstroke, painting a vivid portrait of their world and its inhabitants. Through the cadence of their speech and the ode of their allegory, the dynasty's people pay homage to the timeless rhythms of nature, weaving a tapestry of words that echo the spirit of the jungle itself.

Artistic skills: Valerna’s harp is no ordinary instrument; it is a creation born from her essence, both physical and spiritual. She crafted the frame from the bones of a mighty, long-extinct creature, using her own magical lactation to shape and bind the marrow, giving the structure an almost divine strength. But it is the strings that truly sing of her nature—spider silk spun from her very being, delicate yet unbreakable, capable of producing hauntingly beautiful melodies that weave themselves into the air like webs catching morning dew.

When she plays, her long, dexterous fingers glide over the threads of her creation, coaxing music that is at once ancient and timeless. Each note is a whisper from the ages, a conversation between the past and the present. Her songs are often accompanied by lyrics she pens herself—poetry woven from the threads of her vast experiences. Her muses range from the philosophical to the whimsical, contemplations of mortality, love, and the unseen forces that guide fate. Writing for her is not merely a pastime but a necessary form of expression, where thoughts too heavy for words alone take flight in the ephemeral dance of verse.

Cooking and baking are Valerna’s other great loves, art forms as sacred to her as music and poetry. In her kitchen, she brings together ancient traditions with the bounties of her extraordinary life. She prepares tamales with tender dinosaur meat wrapped in corn husks and spiced with a blend of herbs and roots from forgotten realms. Her tortillas are soft, made from maize she grinds by hand, and her empanadas are filled with sweetened fruits grown from magical trees she tends herself. Each dish is a story, and speaks of one’s culture.

For Valerna, knitting is no mere idle task—it is a meditative practice where each loop and stitch forms a web that captures not just yarn. Whether spinning intricate, magical patterns into cloaks or knitting warm shawls for her companions, her work is imbued with intent and care, each piece an artifact of her creative soul. She considers knitting a tactile form of magic, much like her harp playing, something that binds the threads of existence into tangible form.

Together, these passions make Valerna a singular artist in every sense of the word. Music, poetry, cooking, and knitting are not disparate hobbies but interconnected art forms that allow her to convey the world around her. In everything she does, whether weaving melodies from spider silk or kneading dough, she exerts her amplitude over creation.

Appearance: Her face is a delicate balance of sharp edges and soft allure, the perfect balance of striking beauty and sensual mystique. High, regal cheekbones rise with an almost predatory grace, lending her an air of fierce confidence, as if she could cut through stone with nothing more than her gaze. Yet, the soft curve of her full, inviting lips tempers this sharpness, adding a layer of sensuality that is impossible to ignore. Each feature seems carefully crafted by the hands of the gods themselves, from her finely sculpted nose to the strong yet feminine jawline that tapers gracefully to her pointed chin. There’s a wicked playfulness in the slight curve of her lips, an enigmatic smile that suggests she is forever lost in thoughts both dangerous and delicious.

Her beauty is more than skin-deep; it carries with it the weight of ancient knowledge and untold secrets. Tiny geometric markings, like mystical freckles, adorn her cheeks and brow, as if some forgotten language had been etched into her very being. These facial paintings shimmer faintly under certain light, giving her an otherworldly charm, a visual poetry that hints at magic woven into her essence. Each line and dot of these markings speaks to a life touched by realms beyond the ordinary, casting her as a creature of both this world and one far beyond. Her face, with its perfect symmetry and subtle signs of power, tells the account of someone who is not just pulchritudinous but domineering.

Beneath this youthful face lies a body crafted from unadulterated femininity and raw strength. Every curve of her physique sings the song of sexual empowerment, an inebriating harmony of buxom grace and formidable muscle. Her chest, full and shapely, rises in perfect balance with the generous curve of her hips, while the narrow, graceful line of her waist draws the eye in, as though inviting a deeper study of her form. Her movements, even in stillness, convey a kind of coiled energy, as though her body is always ready to pounce, always ready to enthrall, a weapon hidden beneath layers of soft skin. She is both the storm and the calm, a paradox of strength and softness that draws in those around her.

Her muscles, subtly defined beneath her smooth, flawless skin, speak to a lifetime of strength and control. Unlike the overt bulk of a warrior, her power is quiet, hidden just beneath the surface, like the tension of a bowstring ready to release. Her limbs move with the precision of a predator, each gesticulation is deliberate and graceful, while her endowment suggests a perilous pizzaz. From the gentle rise of her shoulders to the proud arc of her hips, there is a symmetry in her figure that captivates the senses, an amalgamation of beauty and strength as ancient as the foundations of the earth. Like a force of nature, she has been worn smooth by time and power, shaped into a masterpiece..

Each facet of her being, from the curve of her lips to the strength hidden in her form, communicated the duality of her nature. She is the soft invitation of a lover and the sharp edge of a blade, a paradox that is as mesmerizing as it is terrifying, producing an atmosphere of trepidation that seems perpetually caught in her orbit. Her body, a temple, tells the tale of a living embodiment of beauty tempered by the weight of power. In her presence, one feels the pull of both the earth and the stars, as though she exists in the space between worlds, where only the brave dare to traipse.

Distinctive Marks: The most striking and eerie feature that sets her apart from mere mortals are the spider-like limbs sprouting from her back. These eight appendages, dark as night and sleek as polished obsidian, arc from her form with an eerie grace, as though they have a life and will of their own. Each limb is long, segmented, and disturbingly agile, ending in sharp, claw-like tips. The joints move in a disquieting, fluid manner, their every shift silent yet powerful, like the creeping approach of a predator. When not in use, they curl around her like a protective shroud, but with the slightest intention, they stretch outward, ready to strike or assist. These limbs possess a hypnotic beauty, blending the organic and the terrifying in one graceful, alien form.

In addition to the spider limbs, her body language often shifts in a way that seems not entirely human. There’s a sinuous, almost predatory fluidity in her movements, as though she is always aware of her surroundings, always calculating. She stands with the quiet dominance of a hunter, her presence filling the space with an air of both danger and allure. Her smile, when it appears, is knowing—teasing at something more, something deeper, and always out of reach.

Her presence evokes not just beauty but power—a natural, raw energy that transcends her mortal appearance. The spider-like limbs are a constant reminder that while her form may be that of a woman, her essence is something much darker, much older, and far more deadly than mere flesh and blood.

Traits: Her tactical mind is like the spinning of her own silk, intricate and unseen until the moment of capture. She thrives in the art of planning, each decision meticulously mapped out as though it were part of a living, breathing entity. Her strategies are not brute force but a dance of entrapment and manipulation, ensuring that her foes fall into her webs with little effort. Her deep understanding of the battlefield—both literal and metaphorical—makes her a master tactician, weaving complex layers of offense and defense as effortlessly as a spider spins its web in the night.

Her honor, however, is the bedrock upon which her intellect rests. It is an unwavering code, a towering monument to discipline and respect. In every move she makes, Valerna ensures that her actions are not tainted by petty cruelty or betrayal. She believes that strength should be tempered with dignity, that true power lies not in tyranny but in earning loyalty and respect. Like the ancient warriors who fought not just for conquest but for the preservation of their gods and ancestors, Valerna stands tall in her honor, allowing it to guide her every step.

Despite her calculated nature, a romantic soul stirs beneath the surface. Valerna harbors a deep appreciation for beauty, whether it is the elegance of a perfect trap or the silent grace of a moonlit night. Her affections are expressed not in soft, sentimental gestures but in the grand, sweeping motions of someone who understands that love, like war, requires both passion and precision. To her, the pursuit of love is not dissimilar to the pursuit of victory—it demands planning, loyalty, and a deep connection to the rhythm of the heart.

As a well-read individual, Valerna devours knowledge as ravenously as she does her prey. She is a scholar of history, philosophy, and ancient lore, constantly seeking to enrich her mind with the wisdom of ages. Her library is as vast as her webs, filled with texts that span across worlds, from the ancient codices of her own homeland to the esoteric scrolls of faraway realms. Each piece of literature, each philosophical musing, is a thread she weaves into the ever-expanding tapestry of her understanding, allowing her to see the world not just as it is but as it could be.

Yet, Valerna's domineering nature cannot be ignored. She commands with a presence that demands submission, her towering form and piercing gaze leaving no room for dissent. To her, control is not a luxury but a necessity—an extension of her desire for order and mastery. She does not simply lead; she orchestrates, bending others to her will as easily as she bends the threads of her webs. Like an ancient queen presiding over her domain, she rules with both grace and iron, understanding that power is best wielded when it is unquestionable.

Faults: Her stern demeanor is like a stone wall—unflinching, immovable, and often devoid of warmth. Her rigid sense of order and unyielding expectations make her a force to be reckoned with, but they also distance her from those around her. She bears the weight of leadership like an ancient idol carved from stone, impossible to break yet just as impossible to reach. This sternness, while a strength in moments of command, often leaves her isolated, her sharp edges cutting through connections she might otherwise cultivate.

Beneath her commanding exterior lies a soul weighed down by the heavy chains of depression. Like a sun obscured by endless storm clouds, Valerna carries an inner darkness that refuses to dissipate. She wears her sorrow quietly, a mantle as silent as the night, but it permeates every aspect of her life. Even in victory, she cannot escape the melancholy that shadows her every step, a constant reminder of losses past and futures uncertain. Her battles are not only fought in the external world but within the labyrinth of her own mind.

Her paranoia, though mild, acts as a slow poison, tainting her thoughts with suspicion. Every interaction, every decision is scrutinized as though hidden threats lurk in every shadow. This lingering distrust makes her careful, methodical, but also keeps her from fully trusting those she should lean on. Like a spider always wary of its web being disturbed, Valerna's paranoia leaves her perpetually vigilant, but at the cost of peace, as she watches for dangers that may never come.

Senses: Racial Abilities

Equipment/ Martial Style: Valerna's weapon of choice, the macuahuitl, is not adorned with traditional obsidian but forged from the bone-like substance lactated from her own bosom. This is no ordinary weapon; it is a visceral extension of her very essence, evidence of her connection with her primordial nature. Each strike from this macuahuitl is as if the earth itself retaliates through her. It is hard, unyielding, and yet strangely organic—a reflection of Valerna’s own duality as both creator and destroyer.

Forged from the deep, unspoken well of her body’s sustenance, the macuahuitl is imbued with a power that transcends the mundane. Every ridge, every curve in the bone is sculpted with purpose, the weapon radiating with an ancient, bone-deep knowledge. Its grip is smooth but firm, crafted to accommodate the fierce swings of a warrior who commands both elegance and ferocity in battle. There are no jagged edges here; instead, the macuahuitl moves through air and flesh alike as smoothly as silk—a deadly and seamless part of her martial grace.

Though she wields axes with equal proficiency, Valerna's affinity for her macuahuitl speaks of a deeper connection, a bond that goes beyond mere weaponry. This bone-crafted blade is a reflection of her power to birth and destroy, a symbol of her dominion over life and death. With each swing, it sings in a silent hymn of violence and rebirth, the essence of her lactated creation echoing through every strike. The macuahuitl is not just a weapon—it is her legacy, a crafted narrative of bone and blood, of creation intertwined with destruction.

Valerna's armor is a marvel of grotesque elegance, a fusion of eldritch design and arachnid essence. Forged from her own bone, hardened by magical forces to twice the tensile strength of steel, it gleams in a deep crimson hue like blood congealed under a moonless night. Each segment of the armor reflects the sinewy curvature of a spider’s exoskeleton, a natural symmetry blended with chilling artifice. The carapace’s surface is etched with intricate patterns reminiscent of webbing, their delicate tracery both decorative and disquieting, an ominous reminder of the predatory precision it embodies.

Her helmet, crafted from the skull of a colossal arachnid, frames her face with the cold beauty of a death mask. The multiple black, empty eyes of the spider peer out from the crown, as if gazing into countless realms, watching both seen and unseen forces. These dead orbs seem to shift with her movement, a spectral vision of her mastery over life and death. The eerie stillness of the skull, juxtaposed with the pulse of life beneath the armor, lends her presence a terrifying grace, as if she embodies the very duality of predator and protector.

The armor’s crimson hue deepens in shadow, giving it an ever-shifting appearance, like blood flowing just beneath the surface. The ridges along her joints mimic the segmented limbs of her arachnid kin, adding both flexibility and a nightmarish semblance of natural armor. With each step she takes, her figure seems to blur into her surroundings, becoming an enigma of bone and shadow. It is not simply protection but a statement of dominance—an unsettling fusion of the monstrous and the regal, designed to intimidate and mesmerize in equal measure.

Her mastery of Muay Thai further complements her hybrid nature. The artistry of knees, elbows, and fists becomes even deadlier when Valerna incorporates her spider silk into the rhythm of her strikes. Her silk, spun from her own essence, binds, entangles, and disorients her opponents, leaving them vulnerable to the crushing power of her hand-to-hand blows. The web is her stage, and every movement is a practiced strike, each blow calculated and executed with the same deftness she uses to weave her silk.

The macuahuitl becomes an extension of her formidable strength, wielded with the elegance of a creature in command of her nature. The fact that it was borne from her own body makes every strike deeply personal—a declaration of dominance that echoes through the battlefield. As her enemies fall before her, they are not just struck down by mere weaponry but by the very essence of Valerna herself, a force of nature who has mastered both the art of creation and destruction.

Her spider silk and bone armor are the final layers of her predatory prowess, allowing her to control the terrain and her opponents with unmatched precision. With the fluidity of a spider spinning its web, she manipulates her environment, ensnaring enemies and using her Muay Thai strikes with enhanced reach and control. In this lethal dance, the macuahuitl serves as the fatal flourish, a bone blade birthed from her own essence, cleaving through foes as easily as she spins her web, a testament to her strength and artistry in battle.

Hobbies: Reading, Web harpist, Singer, Poet, Sunbathing, knitting, baking, hunting, making clothes with her webs and what she hunts.

Habits: Valerna’s lip piercing serves as both a physical adornment and a strange comfort to her, the tiny metallic ring often flicked by her forked tongue in moments of deep thought or predatory focus. It’s an oddly intimate gesture, the movement of her split tongue grazing the cool metal with a serpentine grace, as though testing the boundaries of her own sharpness and softness. Each flick of her tongue sends ripples through her expression, adding layers to the emotions that she chooses to veil from those around her.

Her reddish locks, rich and deep like the setting sun glistening through jungle canopy, are another aspect of her controlled chaos. The many arachnoid ligaments extending from her back possess an inherent reflex, often reaching up to comb and slick her hair back with meticulous care. The fluid movement of these appendages, silent yet purposeful, is a disarming contrast to the untamed nature of her wild locks, creating a dynamic balance between control and freedom. Her ligaments behave like living extensions of her will, always striving for perfection even amidst the tumult.

Each time she combs her hair back, it’s as though she reaffirms her identity, weaving together the strands of her human and monstrous aspects. The ritual of smoothing her locks is both a practical necessity and a symbolic gesture, aligning herself with the order she imposes on her chaotic world. As she tucks away each strand, her aura sharpens, projecting the deliberate elegance of a queen whose every move, every action, is calculated yet instinctively predatory.

Likes: The spider finds solace in the simple pleasures of reading, drinking coffee, and plucking her webbed strings. Her love for reading stems from a deep desire to explore the vast expanse of knowledge, absorbing centuries of wisdom and philosophy through the pages of ancient tomes and forgotten manuscripts. For her, reading is not just an escape but a gateway into minds long since silenced by time. Each word unfurls like a delicate petal, revealing layers of thought that nourish her undying hunger for insight, and every book is a new world, another sojourn into the realms of ideas and stories woven with time's own hand.

Coffee, for Valerna, is far more than a mere beverage. It is a ritual, a communion with the present moment, where the steam rising from her cup mimics the fleeting nature of existence. The bitterness on her tongue reminds her of life's struggles, while the warmth coursing through her body is a gentle whisper of the small joys that temper the hardship. She savors each sip, letting it linger on her palate, much like the moments she clings to from the past. Coffee is an alchemical blend of fire and earth, of the present and the eternal, a liquid hymn to life's transitory nature that she drinks to steady herself against the winds of immortality.

Her webbed strings, delicate and haunting in their resonance, offer Valerna a unique form of self-expression. As her fingers dance across the strings, the sound that emerges is neither purely joyous nor sorrowful but a melancholic chord that speaks to the intricacy of her sentiments. The harp, crafted from bone and spider silk, is an extension of her soul, its every note evidence of the years she has endured. Each string pluck resonates through the air like the vibrations of a spider's web, the sound traveling through her, connecting her to a cosmic rhythm beyond the comprehension of mortal ears.

Dialectics is her intellectual playground, a dance of reason and counter-reason where truths emerge not through creed but through the friction of vying thoughts. Engaging in dialectics is akin to knitting a web of ideas, each thread supporting another, creating a structure where every perspective finds its place. Her mind, sharp and ever-seeking, delights in the challenge of fraying contradictions, and she revels in the act of intellectual sparring. In the battle of minds, Valerna feels most alive here, navigating the labyrinth of thoughts with the grace of a seasoned weaver.

And yet, these pursuits are not just pastimes for her; they are anchors that ground her within the ever-shifting currents of time. In books, she discovers history; in coffee, the moment and respite; in music, the soul; and in dialectics, the quest for understanding and contesting her own presumptions.

Dislikes: She has a strong aversion toward the following poor markers. Pseudointellectuals who are like hollow vessels, speaking loudly yet brimming with nothing but noise—masking ignorance beneath veils of verbosity. Pomposity and cockiness are akin to gaudy peacocks strutting arrogantly through time’s vast hallways, yet utterly unaware of how temporary they truly are. Cruelty, in her eyes, is the most pitiful display of weakness, a desperate attempt to wield power over others when true strength lies in kindness. Selfishness feels like a barren desert, bereft of empathy, where the sun of self-obsession scorches all life around it.

Deception, however, weaves a web of shadows, an art she despises, for it twists the truth, blurring the line between reality and falsehood. As one who traverses countless worlds, she understands the fragility of trust, and those who deceive erode the very foundation of human connection. “Alphas”—those self-declared leaders—are but wolves in gilded chains, barking at the moon in an endless performance of dominance. They fail to grasp the subtlety of true leadership, which is rooted in respect and wisdom, not brute force or fear alone.

To her, these flaws are more than just cracks in character; they are reflections of a soul that has yet to learn the lessons of eternity, to embrace the humility that comes with endless wandering, and to understand that existence is not a race to dominate, but a journey to enrich the lives of others. Each of these traits, from false pride to cruelty, represents a failure to transcend the base instincts of the mortal coil, and Valerna—ever patient, ever watching—sees them for what they truly are: momentary blemishes on the mural of time.

Fears: Valerna's greatest dread is the inevitable moment when she must lay to rest her children and friends, a fear rooted deep in her immortal soul. Each life she cherishes is a fleeting ember, burning brightly and vanishing too soon, while she remains, a witness to countless ends. The idea of interring those she loves gnaws at her heart, an unshakable shadow that follows her despite her strength, casting a pall over her seemingly unbreakable will.

Her towering responsibility as a leader compounds this trepidation. For all her power, Valerna fears one thing even more than death itself—failure. The thought of betraying those who trust her, those who march beneath her banner with faith in her leadership, weighs heavily upon her soul. To falter would not only mean the loss of battles but also the loss of lives, of those she vowed to protect. Each decision, each command, is laced with the underlying terror that, one day, her misstep might lead to the ruin of her people.

And yet, this fear is what drives her forward with relentless precision. It sharpens her judgment, tempers her resolve, and keeps her awake in the dead of night, considering every possible future. She wears her fear like an invisible armor, not allowing it to cripple her but using it as a force that binds her even tighter to the lives she shepherds. She is ever mindful of the weight of mortality, forever straddling the line between protector and mourner.

Strengths: Valerna’s ingenuity extends beyond battlefields and into her craftsmanship, where her dexterous arachnoid limbs spin intricate garments from her own spider silk. Her designs are not only durable but a testament to her artistry, each thread a carefully woven symbol of her duality—beauty fused with lethality. Despite her towering form, Valerna's agility is startling; she moves with a fluid grace that belies her size, excelling in hand-to-hand combat where she wields her signature sword-club with utter exactitude.

Her spider-silk garments are more than mere apparel; they are armor, tactical advantages woven into her flesh. Each thread is imbued with a strength only nature can forge, supple yet unyielding, an extension of her own body. Her martial prowess complements this, blending agility and raw power in a fearsome dance of destruction. In close combat, her speed astounds, and her mastery over the art of hand-to-hand combat is unparalleled.

Weakness: Valerna holds a special affinity for the Beastkin and sentient Monsterkin, drawn to the complexity and richness of their cultures. She finds their traditions and ways of life fascinating, marveling at their unique integration of primal instincts with higher intelligence. This favoritism is evident in how she gravitates toward them, embracing their diversity as proof of strength through difference. Her curiosity about their rituals, social structures, and symbiosis with the natural world drives her to learn from them, regarding their cultural intricacies as treasures of her own realm.

However, despite her admiration for these robust beings, Valerna is painfully aware of her physical vulnerabilities. Though her massive arachnid form exudes intimidation, her flesh is subject to the same limitations as any organic creature. A single unmitigated blow from a heavy weapon, such as a warhammer, would be catastrophic. The force of impact could shatter her ribs, perforating her lungs and reminding her that beneath her formidable exterior, she remains susceptible to the same mortality as those she protects.

This vulnerability adds a haunting layer to her interactions with the Beastkin and Monsterkin. She witnesses their resilience and innate strength, often reflecting on how their natural adaptations afford them better chances of survival compared to her own biologically fragile form. While she can weave wonders from her silk and carve victories with her sword-club, the lurking threat of fatal injury humbles her, tempering her bravado with a deep-seated fear of failure in moments when strength is not enough.

In battle and diplomacy, her favoritism toward Beastkin is also strategic. Their raw power and unique abilities complement her own, allowing her to balance her fragility with allies whose very physiology provides advantages she can never hope to attain. It’s a symbiotic relationship where admiration and practicality blend, making her fascination with them not just personal but crucial to her survival and the preservation of her empire.

Vocational information: The role of chieftain or matron weighs heavily on Valerna’s shoulders, as her responsibilities transcend the daily welfare of her people. Beyond the immediate, she is entrusted with the long-term development and strategic growth of the realm. She must not only safeguard the security and prosperity of her constituents but also ensure that they remain competitive, lest they fall behind rival powers. This requires her to continually push for advancement, balancing tradition with innovation, and urging the council to look ahead with foresight and ambition for the future.

As the Araneae matron, Valerna understands that the well-being of her realm is not a solitary pursuit. She must engage the council, persuading them to pursue progressive strategies and investments in their future. Without constant growth, stagnation looms—a fatal threat to any kingdom. The burdens of leadership require her to navigate the fine line between appeasing traditionalist factions and securing the realm’s advancement in a volatile world. In doing so, she carries the immense weight of ensuring that her people not only survive but thrive.

Valerna views mortals as nascent minds, fragile in their development and vulnerable to self-destruction if left unguided. Their short lifespans, filled with potential, often wither before reaching their zenith, prompting in her an almost maternal instinct to lead and nurture. She believes they need direction, that without her hand to guide them, they are doomed to fall into cycles of ignorance and failure. The chieftain sees it as her duty to foster their growth, to provide them with the wisdom they cannot attain on their own.

In addition to her role as a leader, Valerna dedicates herself to the meticulous recording of history, both hers and others, chronicling the triumphs and tragedies that have shaped the world. By committing these lessons to text, she hopes to steer future generations toward a better path, where the mistakes of the past need not be repeated. Her writings, filled with the knowledge of a long-lived being, are meant to be a beacon for those who come after, guiding them away from the missteps that plagued their ancestors and toward a more enlightened future.

Short-term goals: The continued protection and development of her tribe (Nation) and its citizens.

Long-term goals: To end the defiled, her true nemesis.

Secrets: She holds tightly to the true histories she has witnessed, understanding that the myths and fabrications of her people serve a more profound and beautiful purpose than cold reality ever could. These crafted tales inspire, offering a narrative of empowerment that history itself often fails to provide. Secretly, however, she harbors a deep envy toward mortals for their finite lives. Their ephemeral existence is a fleeting yet powerful flame, burning brightly for only a short while, while she views herself as a prisoner of eternity, bound to serve without end.

Despite the vast power and insight she wields, Valerna resents her immortality. The gift of unending life feels more like an eternal sentence—an undying servant to her people and their myths. She watches as generations rise and fall, each time envying the sweet release that mortals experience. Trapped in her ageless form, she must continue guiding, protecting, and witnessing without reprieve. For Valerna, immortality is not a blessing but a relentless duty, a chain that binds her to the cycle of life while never partaking in its ultimate release.

Valerna perceives herself as a slave to the weight of her knowledge, an unremitting burden she must carry with unyielding moral responsibility. Heavy is the crown upon her head, laden with the truths she must never reveal and the fabricated myths that offer her people hope. The paradox of power binds her ever tighter—the more powerful she becomes, the less freedom she possesses. For with power comes responsibility, and with responsibility comes the chains of duty. She knows, too, that isolation deepens at the pinnacle of authority.

As she ascends, leaving behind fleeting connections and mortal lives, she finds herself ever lonelier, burdened by immortality and the weight of the world’s history. Her ageless existence is one of endless service, in which freedom is an unattainable luxury, and her only constant is the unrelenting weight of leadership. She is, and will always be, just a voyager.

Attire

Valerna's wardrobe is a striking affidavit to the deep connection between the jungle and her people. Her attire is a woven textile mosaic of intricate patterns, echoing the natural world in all its grandeur. The bold patterns across her garment seem to pulsate with the heartbeat of the jungle itself—swirling and branching like vines wrapping around ancient trees. There’s a deliberate contrast in her fashion, reflecting both the untamed wild and the wisdom of ages.

Each curve and fold of her fabric dances with vibrant colors, teeming with life as the rainforest does after a storm. The fabric hugs her form, embracing her as the jungle does its own, with protective reverence. The patterns themselves are reminiscent of intricate spider webs—beautiful yet deadly, capturing light and shadow, mirroring the very essence of the predatory beauty that Valerna embodies. Her dress, though ornate, never forgets function; it moves fluidly, allowing her the freedom to hunt, fight, and survive.

The fabric, adorned with geometric and floral designs, feels alive under the gaze. It breathes, shifting like the wind through the canopy, every layer speaking of stories passed down from elder to elder. The palette is saturated with the colors of the earth—deep browns and umbers, with flashes of fiery reds and oranges, as though her very attire was plucked from the heart of a dying sun.

Her pierced lip, gleaming beneath the shadows, is another symbol of her strength. A glint of metal, it stands as both adornment and statement—a declaration that beauty and danger coexist within her. Like the fangs of a spider hidden behind a gentle facade, it reminds those who look upon her of the venom beneath the surface. It gleams like a lone star amidst the jungle's darkness, a point of focus amidst the chaos.

The sleeves, adorned with angular patterns, rise and fall like mountains, creating an armor of sorts—protection not from the physical, but from those who might underestimate her. Her attire is as much about defense as it is about allure. She wears her outfit not merely as clothing but as an extension of her very being—a complex, calculated expression of who she is: predator, queen, and immortal.

Her accessories, laced into the very fabric of her dress, mimic the flora and fauna of her homeland. Twists of gold and silver wrap around her like creeping vines, while gemstones—sparkling like morning dew—dot her bodice, each stone representing a conquest, a memory, a soul claimed in her timeless journey. These jewels reflect both her past victories and the endless future that lies ahead.

In Valerna’s clothing, one sees not just fabric, but the soul of the jungle itself—a thriving ecosystem of strength, beauty, and untold mystery. As she walks, her outfit moves like the shadows of leaves—both concealing and revealing the power she holds within. It is a masterful symphony of elements, crafted with the precision of a spider weaving her web, a queen in her domain.

Relationships

Watari Devante. Her friend, general and student.

The matron views Watari Devante as a nascent flame, flickering with the potential to become an inferno that reshapes the landscape of power and thought. His mind, still tender, is an unpolished gem—brilliant, yet waiting for the master's touch to reveal its true luster. Like a sculptor with marble, she knows his honor, though beautiful in its raw form, must be carved carefully lest it shatter under the weight of its own purity. To Valerna, he is not merely a reflection of his ancestor but a seed of greatness waiting to bloom under her guiding hand.

His intellect is a coiled spring, waiting to unfurl into the realms of tactical mastery and philosophical depth. Watari is proof that the blood of the Southern warriors and the mystique of the Dynasty can harmonize, blending into something greater than either alone. His loyalty is the double-edged sword she must wield with care—an admirable trait, yet capable of binding him in chains if left unchecked. Valerna recognizes in him the potential for a brilliant tactician, someone who might one day lead with wisdom sharper than any blade.

Their relationship, a delicate dance of mentor and pupil, is built on quiet power and unspoken trust. She is the compass that will guide him, the steady hand on the rudder of his destiny. Watari’s future, to her, is a wide expanse filled with promise—one that requires not just the brute force of the Southern Nokhoi, but the grace and finesse of the Dynasty’s intricate web of politics. She watches him not just with the eyes of a teacher but with an almost maternal instinct, knowing that his path to greatness is intertwined with hers. Only under her brilliant guidance will he blossom into the man who will shape the future.

Roha Devante. Royal courtesan and political pawn.

Valerna views Roha Devante with a mix of respect and strategic admiration, seeing in the Nokhoi woman a rare blend of beauty and tenacity. Roha, vulpine and graceful, is unlike any other, a radiant presence born of hardship and destitution. She clawed her way from the depths of poverty, surviving the harshest trials to emerge as a noble figure, now bound as a blood thrall. Roha’s resilience, her ability to rise from despair, is not lost on Valerna. She sees in Roha a woman shaped by adversity, whose survival instinct could become an invaluable asset.

Roha, once a poor child of the Nokhoi, has now positioned herself as a key figure in Valerna’s intricate web of influence. She stands poised to sire powerful heirs, fortifying Valerna’s dominion over the Nokhoi people. Her newfound nobility will serve as a diplomatic bridge, a conduit through which Valerna will pull the Nokhoi closer to her rule. Valerna, having planted the seeds of influence through the centuries, sees Roha as part of her harvest. The time draws near for those seeds to bear fruit, and Roha is a crucial piece of the intricate puzzle Valerna has crafted.

Their bond is not one of mere hierarchy but of mutual respect born from shared experiences. Valerna, too, came from nothing and recognizes the potential Roha holds—not just as a tool, but as a force that may one day mature into an influential figure of her own. Yet, for now, Roha remains in Valerna’s orbit, a useful and powerful asset in the game of diplomacy and power. Through her, Valerna envisions the Nokhoi people’s acceptance of her reign, knowing that Roha’s beauty, cunning, and loyalty will carry her influence farther than brute force ever could.

Florentina Jorgenskull. Her pride and joy.

She views Florentina, her daughter, as both a mirror and a shadow—a brute by nature, yet steadfast in her loyalty. Florentina is the culmination of Valerna’s myriad victories and failures, embodying the legacy she has crafted through centuries of struggle. But Florentina is cursed with a never-ending story, much like her mother—a tale of bloodlust, unrelenting war, and unquenchable desire for power. Despite her disapproval of her daughter's ravenous thirst for conflict, Valerna harbors a deep, unwavering love for her.

To Valerna, Florentina is a "profane little thing," a paradox of beauty and violence, a dead spot of creation that echoes Valerna's own fractured existence. The grotesque and the glorious intertwine in her daughter’s being, and in that, Valerna finds something ineffably beautiful. Florentina, though a constant source of vexation with her insatiable hunger for battle, represents a truth about their shared curse: they are both bound to cycles of destruction and creation, unable to escape their shared fate.

Valerna, with all her wisdom and foresight, looks toward the change that Florentina will inevitably bring—whether for better or worse. She knows that her daughter will alter the course of their world, and while she may not approve of every bloody step Florentina takes, she will always stand by her. Valerna sees her daughter as a force of nature, powerful and primal, destined to shape the world in ways that only those cursed with immortality can.

Samara Del’Fluent. Wasted potential

The spider regards Samara Del'fluent with a mixture of bemusement and calculated indifference. The djinn, with her insufferable arrogance, sees herself as an all-powerful jezebel, weaving illusions of dominance, yet Valerna knows better. Samara lacks the depth to manipulate the intricate web of fate, blindly prancing on threads she cannot see, unaware that the very strings she tugs will eventually strangle her ambitions. The collapse of the Eternal House, much like the demise of the White Sand Empire, is inevitable, a slow but certain unraveling of destiny.

There is a faint pity in Valerna’s mind, for she does enjoy their ongoing game of chess—Samara’s moves bold yet tragically predictable. The djinn fancies herself a queen on the board, but in reality, she is merely a pawn, blinded by her grandeur, failing to see the unseen hands that guide her. Valerna, ever the master strategist, watches the djinn prance with hollow confidence, knowing that at any moment, she could tighten the threads and consume her rival in one decisive strike.

For now, Valerna allows Samara her fleeting sense of control, letting the false dreamer revel in her illusion of power. But Valerna is the spider in this filigree of fate, biding her time. When the harvest is ripe, Samara, much like so many before her, will be devoured—a minor player in the grander design of Valerna’s scheme. The feast awaits, and with one calculated move, Valerna will end the charade, revealing the futility of Samara’s ambitions.

Casimir Debussy, The Transspider

Valerna, in her internal musings, often revisits the curious encounter with the two-tailed feline humanoid upon the eldritch train, a voyager between realms much like herself. His nature, sly and serpentine, cloaks him in an air of mischief—a lion veiled in the camouflage of ruse, ever shifting in his manner. To her, he is not unlike a spider, weaving webs of deception and charm, snaring the unaware. She wonders if, in another life, he might have found a home amidst her kind, a cunning orbweaver of fates and fortunes. Yet beneath his playful front, she discerns a soul unmoored, drifting like a solitary leaf caught in the winds of countless worlds.

It was this same air of rootlessness that compelled her to send him to Florentina. In her wisdom, Valerna saw potential in their union—not as lovers, but as two lost souls seeking their place within the grand tapestry of existence. Flora, a beast of strength, could use the sharp wit of the feline to temper her rough edges, just as the feline might find in Flora the stability he lacked. Together, they could form an unlikely duo, grounded by the shared gravity of their inner storms. Valerna, always the observer of delicate dynamics, believes that in the chaos of their union, they might find an anchor to tether them.

For Valerna, who has crossed the infinite horizons of time and space, she knows the importance of companionship, fleeting though it may be. Like spiders entwined in the web of life, two lost souls can sometimes prop each other up, if only for a moment, lending strength to the other where none might have existed before. She watches from afar, her heart heavy with curiosity, knowing that even in a world without permanence, connections—however transient—can serve as solace for those adrift in the cosmos.

"Prudently dispense with empathy and charity; lest you do more damage with an open hand then a balled fist."

Valerna Jorgenskull

Personality

Valerna is methodical; she takes her time threading her linguistic web while she observes those around her. And, while her species are known for their ferocity. The chieftain mastered control over her lesser impulses. This temperament further facilitates her reserved demeanor. That soft series of pushes she delivers is seldom utilized with nefarious drives helming them. She has long since ascertained the nebulous nature of rectitude. She kept her moral compass aimed toward the realization of her envisionments.

To sum up her character, many have appropriated persistence, strength, beauty, cleverness, and well-mannered descriptors. And while such terminologies might suffice, they scarcely encapsulated the totality of her essence. Who is Valerna Jorgenskull? A vapid forerunner that is justifiably followed by the ever more pertinent and profound inquisition of what is she? But as a bellwether, one thing of certitude chimes outward. That honeyed idiosyncrasy is an equally valuable mechanism for her craft.

Valerna is very subconscious about her figure. She bedecks herself in her culture's habiliment with pride. Nevertheless, outsiders often chide, mock, or see her as an object to assuage their libidinal hankerings. This has led the giantess to question her worth as a person. The unfettered ridicule and disdain are unremitting. The sheer vitriol and mental toll have left deep scars that have marred her person. Secretly, she wishes others might gain the sagacity to peer beyond her exterior and see the woman she truly is. Instead, they're predisposed to evaluate her worth superficially by fixating on immutable traits instead of the contents of her character.

The whetting of her lingua and mind proved instrumental in her development. The Araneae apprehended that the flesh and the brain are interlinked. A complex mesh that served as a network that made up her person. Due to this epiphany, she isn't one to neglect her corporal shell. Valerna hones her physical temple, finding martial arts (Muay Thai) therapeutic. She surmised that if one's body is ignored, one's reaction time and, thus, mental capacity suffer as well. When both work in harmony, one can reach true acme.

The undying sojourner concedes that one's outward appearance may indicate one's internal state. And while seemingly superficial, intelligent beings are all material entities. It stands to reason that the veneer can be appropriated to communicate volumes. Appearing strong when weak and vulnerable when at one's zenith to lull her adversaries into blundering. Her voice defies her youthful countenance. It carries with it the heft of the cloak of time. She sounds older than she appears, yet her melodic and soft voice doesn't boast her efficacy.

Valerna isn't one to trudge around and parade her strength or power. Instead, she fancies appearing indiscreet as she reposes within her silken filigree. True power doesn't need to be loud until the moment is right. With time, the subtle coursing of a river can cut through the largest of mountains. And time is one resource she has an abundance of, so patience is likely her most advantageous virtue. However, that doesn't suggest she won't pounce. There is no single universal approach to handling the travesties and tribulations of this world. One's technique must be fluid like water, shifting from a rivulet to a mighty wave whenever needed.

The chieftain doesn't believe there is any grand truth or mystery to life. Ultimately, when all things are bare, there is only oneself and whatever purpose or meaning they project over reality.

Ideology

"To say 'power corrupts' is a cunning misdirection, a subtle ruse that frightens away those most fit to wield it, while leaving the unworthy unchallenged. In truth, power does not corrupt—it reveals. It strips away pretense, uncovering the core of one’s soul. Those who fear power, who shy away from its weight, are often the ones who should carry it. But power, like a mirror, reflects one’s essence, and those unafraid of what it reveals hold the strength to shape the world."

Valerna Jorgenskull, a being whose long existence has outlasted civilizations, has come to understand the folly that surrounds power. Kings, oligarchies, and every form of concentrated authority that has dotted the history of humankind—each one is a reflection not of corruption but of revelation. When power is bestowed upon an individual, their nature—both their virtue and their vice—rises to the surface like oil in water. Power doesn’t corrupt so much as it exposes the core of a person. Those who are corrupt without it will become monsters with it; those with the strength to wield it wisely, however, are far rarer and more ephemeral than the world deserves.

When power culminates in the hands of a king or a ruling elite, they must navigate treacherous waters, filled with currents of greed, vanity, and manipulation. The burden of the crown is not merely weight upon the head but a crushing force that few can shoulder. Rulers with wisdom and benevolence are but fleeting sparks in the dark—bright and inspiring, but quickly snuffed out. The ephemeral nature of their reigns only emphasizes the inescapable truth: entropy always creeps back into the seat of power. The wise ruler’s reforms are inevitably unraveled by the fool who follows them, as waves wear down even the sharpest cliffs over time. The vicissitudes of fortune are relentless; what one man builds, another—by ignorance or arrogance—will destroy.

Even when a ruler is wise, it is not their enemies but their own people who pose the greatest threat. The masses, often unaware of the intricacies of leadership, are easily manipulated by those in the shadows—those vultures who circle with eager talons, waiting for the moment when they can claim the throne. These aspirants to power wait not for the fall of nations in battle, but for them to rot from within, from the lies and misdirection of those who would convince the populace that wisdom is tyranny and foresight is oppression. Power does not vanish; it is stolen, clawed from hands too weary or too pure to hold it forever.

The general populace, in Valerna’s eyes, is often blind to the complexity of governance. Popular consensus is no arbiter of truth. History, with its cruel irony, shows that the crowd seldom knows what is best for them. The chorus of voices may be loud, but it is discordant, unthinking—a cacophony of desires that lead to ruin more often than they lead to salvation. The mob, swept up in the grand illusion of its own wisdom, is like a ship without a compass, ever drawn to the nearest flame no matter how destructive. Democracy, monarchy, oligarchy—it makes little difference, for the people will follow any banner that shines brightly enough, unaware that many a flame has consumed the very hands that raised it.

Valerna sees this, not from the narrow view of one lifetime, but from the vantage of eternity. She has watched as empires rise on the backs of wise men, only to collapse under the weight of foolish successors. The brilliance of one ruler is dimmed by the incompetence of another. And thus, power—so precious, so vital—falls to ruin. It is not the corrupted who undo nations, but the careless, the short-sighted, and those who mistake the applause of the masses for truth. The world has no hedge against such decay; it is as inevitable as the changing of the seasons.

To Valerna, it is clear that only those who understand the true nature of power—its burden, its revelation, and its demands—should wield it. But such people are rare, and the world often misplaces its faith in those unworthy of the crown.

But what of those lofty republics and democracies, which claim to rest on the will of the people and cloak themselves in ideals of fairness and equality? These systems, at their core, are fragile illusions. While they begin with fervor and noble intentions, relying on the virtue and wisdom of the masses, they are, by their very nature, unstable. The masses, after all, are fickle, and virtue, in a populace, is as fleeting as mist before the rising sun.

In their infancy, such governments thrive, carried by the idealism and discipline of their founding citizens. Leaders are chosen not for their charm but for their insight and ability to steer the nation through turbulent waters. The early days of democracy or republic appear to be a golden age—leaders are bold, the people are engaged, and the collective vision is one of greatness. However, as with all things, time erodes this fragile structure. Prosperity sows complacency. As comfort seeps into the bones of the populace, the very virtues that once made the system viable begin to decay.

The fatal flaw of such systems lies in the people themselves. Once citizens realize that the vote can be wielded as a weapon for personal gain, the rot sets in. They no longer cast ballots for those who govern with wisdom but for those who promise the most immediate comforts, the richest rewards. The soul of the republic is sold at auction, each bid reducing its strength. And the structure, once proud and resplendent, crumbles under the weight of selfishness.

This decay is insidious, like a parasite feasting on its host. The state’s coffers, meant to sustain the future, are emptied to placate the whims of the present. Taxes rise, infrastructure crumbles, and the state’s ability to defend itself or invest in the future dwindles, all in the name of securing the fleeting satisfaction of the masses. Leaders, once chosen for their vision, are now selected for their ability to pander, to promise indulgence without consequence.

It is not enemies from without that topple democracies, but rather, the moral entropy from within. The populace, no longer concerned with the survival of their state but with their comforts, hands the reins of power to those who care little for governance and more for self-aggrandizement. The pillars of justice, equality, and fairness become hollow mantras, recited without meaning.

The decline of the White Sand Empire illustrates this perfectly. Once a grand republic, it fell to decadence and indulgence, its people more concerned with poets than warriors. Promises of ease and comfort led them to elect leaders ill-equipped for war or survival, and when the time came to defend their legacy, they were helpless. The empire did not fall to a superior army but to the greed and softness of its own people.

The flaw is not merely in leadership but in the very foundation of these systems. Popular consensus does not equate to wisdom, nor does majority rule guarantee soundness. The masses, given the power to steer the state, often steer it toward ruin. They are easily manipulated, swayed by demagogues who exploit their fears and desires. What republic or democracy can withstand the onslaught of human nature, which, left unchecked, prioritizes pleasure over duty, indulgence over restraint?

These systems crumble because they expect too much of the people. They presume that virtue can be sustained across generations, but history shows otherwise. Virtue wanes, and with it, the integrity of the state. The people’s vote becomes a dagger plunged into the heart of the nation. Only those who understand the true nature of power—the few who rise above the chaos—can hope to lead with clarity.

Language, the most powerful tool of civilization, serves both to unite and to divide. It is a double-edged sword, binding the masses with shared words while weaponizing threats against them. Throughout history, people have readily surrendered liberties in exchange for the illusion of security, believing that order can only be maintained through such concessions. If an external threat does not exist, the populace will inevitably turn inward, conjuring enemies from among themselves to maintain this equilibrium of fear.

Culture is the river through which morality, ideology, and theology flow. It is ever-shifting, adapting to the desires, fears, and values of the people. And at the root of culture lies language—the medium through which reality is constructed, beliefs are spread, and entire societies are shaped. Control the language, manipulate its terms, and you seize the steering wheel of culture itself. Those who grasp this power can control the direction of nations without bloodshed or force, for language guides perception, and perception is the architect of reality.

By dictating the terms of discourse, one defines the boundaries of thought. A people can be made to fear, to love, to fight, or to submit—all through the delicate manipulation of words. Through language, the sovereign can mold the collective consciousness, instilling the narratives that serve their interests. Thus, language becomes the invisible chain, binding the people to ideologies they themselves believe they have chosen. This is the most subtle form of domination, for the people never see the cage around them.

To believe in an ideal, no matter its form, without ever challenging it, is to be shackled by it—to become a servant to something that will inevitably lead to one's undoing. Ideals are not static; they must be questioned, evolved, and seen from every angle. Those who cling to their beliefs without examination only see a fractured world, blind to the forces that may soon engulf them. History has taught us that downfall is often a quiet affair, creeping in through the cracks of rigid thought.

History, however, does not always move in a straight line. It pulses at two speeds: the glacial pace of decades, where time feels stagnant and nothing changes, and the sudden lightning-fast moments when centuries are set into motion within the span of mere minutes. These moments—the crucibles of history—determine the fate of nations and people, catching those unprepared in a tidal wave of change. Those who fail to perceive the forces beneath the surface are swept away, victims of the future they could not foresee.

To truly wield power over one's fate and the world, one must be willing to peer beyond the veil of their beliefs and question the unseen forces moving beneath them. Only then can one break free from the shackles of dogma and survive the sudden turns of history that shape the destiny of empires.

Religious beliefs

In the heart of the Verdant Dynasty lies a sacred belief entangled in the web of reality, encapsulated within the esoteric lore of the Tree of Life. This celestial arboreal entity is revered and adulated by all who dwell beneath its shade. It serves as the axis mundi, the epicenter of the world and the conduit through which life streams and blossoms.

At the core of this belief system lies the profound understanding that the roots of the Tree of Life burrow deep into the world's core, tapping into the primal energies that fuel all living beings. These roots, infused with the planet's lifeblood, absorb its essence, nurturing and supporting the silky web of existence that sprawls across its trunk.

All life in the world of the Verdant Dynasty exists upon the sprawling branches of the Tree of Life. Every creature, from the tiniest prey to the mightiest predators, finds its place within the vast ecosystem that flourishes upon its majestic boughs. It's believed that the actions and deeds of all living beings leave imprints upon the tree, etching their stories that metamorphose into the bark itself.

But the true essence of the Tree of Life transcends mere physicality. It is said that when life's journey ends, mortal coils are molted, and spirits ascend; they find solace and refuge within the verdant canopy of the great tree. There, amidst its starry branches, souls flourish and find accord, lolling in the eternal embrace of those leaves.

Yet, the sanctity of the Tree of Life is not left unguarded. Spiders, revered as symbols of hope and custodians of the sacred, weave their delicate filigree of silk across every inch of its expanse. Their intricate webs serve as a protective barrier, warding off malevolent forces that seek to harm the tree and disrupt the delicate balance of life.

Through these threads of silk, life communes with one another, forming a vast network of linkages that transcends time and space. Each life and soul form a part of this elaborate tapestry, their substance rushing through the tree trunk, weaving a collective consciousness of existence that spans generations.

And so, as the eons pass and life's journey continues, the Tree of Life stands as a timeless symbol of the interconnectedness of all things. From its roots to its branches, from the bark to the celestial canopy above, it is a testament to the enduring cycle of life, death, and rebirth, a beacon of hope and sanctuary for all who dwell within its sacred embrace.

A solemn prophecy is intertwined with the fate of the Tree of Life. It is foretold that a lone spider will take flight upon a silken balloon if the tree ever falters, its vitality wane and its branches wither. Navigated by ancient insight and bound by inviolable duty, this solitary arachnid will embark on an odyssey fraught with peril and destiny. With a lonesome seed cradled within its delicate embrace, the spider will ascend into the heavens, borne aloft upon a gossamer veil of silk.

Across the vast expanse of sky and land, through realms both mundane and mystical, the spider will voyage, piloted by the whispers of the wind and the tree itself. For within the heart of this humble seed lies the promise of renewal, the potential for life to bloom once more.

And so, helmed by the unseen hand of fate, the spider will descend upon a chosen patch of earth, a sacrosanct ground imbued with the essence of the old world and the promise of the new. With delicate precision, it will plant the seed within the fertile soil, tenderly nurturing it with the wisdom passed down through countless generations.

As time unfurls, seasons will wax and wane, and the seed will take root, sending forth tendrils of life to embrace the earth and sky once more. And thus, the cycle will begin anew, the Tree of Life reborn from the ashes of its predecessor, as evidence of the interminable dance of creation and destruction.

Oneself and The Tree

The church delves into a profound metaphysical understanding of the individual's affinity with the universe, conveyed through the analogy of a tree.

The Tree:

The Individual as a Manifestation of the Tree: In their belief system, individuals perceive themselves as integral parts of a larger whole, much like a tree with its branches, trunk, and roots. The tree embodies the interconnectedness of all things, where each individual is a unique incarnation of the universe.

The Church's Teachings on Energy Points: The church teaches that within every individual, specific points of energy correspond to different tree elements. These physical and metaphysical points illustrate stages of spiritual expansion and enlightenment.

Energy Points and their Significance:

Mududah (Feet): Symbolizing roots, Mududah represents the foundation of one's spiritual journey. By grounding oneself and channeling energy from the earth, individuals establish a solid connection to their origins.
Nurlyk (Hip): The hip serves as the base of the trunk, and It signifies stability and support. It represents the core strength necessary for spiritual growth and advancement.
Kutvach, Meathor, Nearinyah, Querveck (Spine): These nodes along the spine form a leyline of energy, representing the flow of spiritual energy through the individual. Each node may correspond to different aspects of consciousness or stages of enlightenment.
Dylrin (Neck): Positioned between the spine and the head, Dylrin represents a pivotal point where the individual's physical and spiritual energies converge. It signifies the integration of mind, body, and spirit. It also dictates in what direction the stream will flow and in what direction one's insight may be focused.
Shengliyah (Head): The Shengliyah symbolizes the actualization of spiritual attainment and enlightenment at the tree's crown. It is the point from which individuals gain a more profound understanding of reality and perceive the interconnectedness of all things while apprehending an inherent contradiction.

Achieving Balance and Transcendence:

Mastering Flesh, Mind, and Spirit: True enlightenment is attained through harmonizing these three characteristics of the self. Individuals can achieve balance and transcendence by mastering the physical, mental, and spiritual dimensions of existence.

Perception of Reality: Those who reach such heights of spiritual development see the world through a lens untainted by illusion or distortion. They perceive existence as a multifaceted prism, where the three facets of existence—physical, mental, and spiritual—are seamlessly intertwined and form the webbing that is the individual and the collective.

Unity in Individuality:

Paradox of Oneness and Individuality: While all things are interconnected and part of the universal tree, each individual retains a unique identity and journey. This paradoxical duality emphasizes the complexity of existence and the beauty of individual expression within the more extensive threading of the universe.

The Web of Individuality: The interconnectedness of all things forms an intricate web, where each individual's experiences, choices, and actions contribute to the collective filigree of existence. Through this interconnectedness, individuals find meaning and purpose in their lives and recognize their role in the greater cosmic dance.

The Path to Transcendence:

Meditation, Self-Mastery, and Acceptance:

Meditation: Central to the journey towards transcendence is the practice of meditation. Through introspection, individuals quiet the mind, connect with their innermost selves, and tap into the deeper currents of consciousness that flow within. Such reflections are often seen as painful and disheartening as they reveal the shade.

Self-Mastery: Achieving transcendence requires mastery over one's thoughts, emotions, and actions. Individuals gain control over their impulses and desires by cultivating discipline and self-awareness, paving the way for spiritual growth and enlightenment.

Acceptance of True Shade: Integral to the journey is accepting one's true nature, including both the shade (evil) and luster (good) aspects of the self. Embracing the shadow involves acknowledging and integrating the darker aspects of one's psyche, fostering wholeness and consonance within the individual.

Utilizing Various Practices:

Swaying (Yoga): The practice of swaying is a physical, mental, and spiritual discipline that aligns the body, mind, and spirit. Individuals cultivate inner harmony and unlock dormant energies by bending their bark (postures), basking and opening their leaves to the scorching sun of reality (breath control), and meditation.

Introspection: Delving into one's psyche through introspection allows individuals to confront their fears, desires, and inner conflicts. By shining a light on the shadow aspects of the self, individuals gain insight and clarity, fostering personal growth and transformation. It culminates in accepting that one's shade and luster are equally valuable. And both, if left unchecked, can prove ruinous.

Martial Arts: Martial arts cultivate physical strength and agility and foster mental discipline, focus, and resilience. Through rigorous training and self-discipline, practitioners develop inner fortitude and spiritual resilience, preparing them for the challenges of the spiritual journey. A strong mind with a weak body is not in balance.

Expansion of Self:

Science and Magic: The pursuit of knowledge through scientific inquiry and magical practices expands one's consciousness and understanding of the universe. By blending empirical observation with intuitive insight, individuals uncover hidden truths and unlock the secrets of existence. Exploring the natural world's mysteries through scientific inquiry and magical practices offers insights into the oneness of all things. By studying the cycles of nature, the laws of physics, and the mysteries of the cosmos, individuals deepen their understanding of the universe and their place within it.

Equilbremaz: The sacred scriptures intricately interlace the concept of consonance and unity of opposites into the very essence of existence. From this profound wisdom springs Equilbremaz, a symbol of unparalleled significance—a living incarnate to the divine fusion of masculine and feminine energies within the Tree of Life.Within the sanctified groves of Equilbremaz, the exalted dance of synthesis unfolds, revealing the innate harmony between male and female.
Amidst the whispering leaves and the gentle rustle of branches, Equilbremarians embody the sacred union physically and reproductively.These esteemed souls tread the path of balance and harmony, guided by the ancient teachings of the tree. They guard divine equilibrium, embody unity in diversity, and steward the sacred fusion between male and female. The physical fusion of genders becomes a manifestation of the hallowed dance of creation. Equilbremarians, bearing the biological markers of both sexes, serve as vessels of religious expression, weaving the threads of the great web into interconnectedness.

—Pngtree—mysterious jungle haven a foggy_10350879.jpg

RP Forum

Attire

Relationships

Watari Devante. Her friend, general and student.

Roha Devante. Royal courtesan and political pawn.

Florentina Jorgenskull. Her pride and joy.