Strict traditionalists, secretive occultists and scheming conspirators. The Norni have faced countless challenges and foes through the ages, both from inside and the outside. Their history runs back countless generations with traditions that have endured centuries. But with those centuries come a heavy burden. The nation is made up of great families whose lineage trace back further than anyone remembers . These families refuse to let go of feuds and rivalries that have no hope of ever being settled. After fighting off its southern neighbor - the Rakkhari Commonwealth - for centuries, it was these feuds that finally brought Norn to its knees. Traitors took the throne as they allowed the Rakkhari to occupy the nation and the ruling families were thrown into the mud.

When the Javenians obliterated the capital of the Rakkhari Commonwealth, the Rakkhari grip on Norn loosened. And that was all that was needed to throw Norn into chaos. What used to be a hostile but stable standstill has now been turned into a lethal free-for-all. Everyone feels that they are entitled to the crown and if they can't have it, no one can. Though most try to cling to the old ways, little remains in Norn these days besides the lust for revenge. Only history will tell if anything of the ancient culture will survive, or if violence will conquer all as the streets run red with blood.

The land the Norni inhabit is a grey, rocky region where a near-eternal rain falls. Cliffy beaches, thick forests and stormy peaks give Norn a somber, yet dignified air. Large monuments left behind by some unknown people defy the winds, towering over the horizon. Ruined fortresses and walls litter the landscape after countless battles, slowly being reclaimed by nature. Uncountable graves are strewn across the country, and the number grows every day.

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Short mood text

For a moment she imagined herself back in the high halls of the rulers, filled with merriment and food and drink. Oh how she missed it, those golden days of past, when she had consorted with the high and mighty, the bright and beautiful. But those summer days were long past, her youth was spent and nothing but rain remained.

Now she sat in a run-down winehouse, among the low and dirty, carefully weighing the last action of her life. By chance she had seen a favored son of one of the traitors' lines on the streets and followed him here. Now he sat with his gaggle of miscreant companions, drinking himself into a stupor.

They had taken it all away for their own egotistical power. Ruined their great nation so that they could tear whatever was left to pieces between them. Now Rakkhai scum patrolled the streets of the capital, and the people turned blades against each other. "Norn will endure" people said. She scoffed to herself. Whatever was left of Norn was nothing worth saving, and the traitors would run whatever was left into the mud. The Rakkhari had won. But someone had to suffer for this injustice.

She watched as the drunkards across the room grew ever more boisterous. They would not last much longer. Anyone in the room could be their allies, or people who would like to see blood flow as much as her. It was a risk she would have to take, and she had very little left to lose.

Benath the table, she ran her fingers over a cold, slender dagger. One way or another, it would see blood tonight.