The Balkoth Tribe. |
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Fimburos ClanStuck in the middle, both physically and in terms of attitude, the clan forms something of a buffer between the pro- and anti-Lunar parties. This merely continues a great clan tradition, that of straddling the middle ground, for the Fimburos have always been the greatest traders of the Yellow Hills. Although most of Fimburos hate the Lunars they have insufficient strength and courage to rise in rebellion with the Daldari and Untralos clans. (And taking sides tends to diminish what little profit remains!) Notable BloodlinesElgan, Intagarn, Ostlan Notable Clan Chieftans(those marked * where also kings or queens of the tribe) Skalfar* (1473-1484) Hareva Silverhand* (1516-1535) remembered as a quietly successful ruler by the tribe, Hareva is known to her clan as the one who brought them wealth such as they had never seen before Dangmar* (1568-1574) while his brother oversaw the tribe Dangmar looked after the interests of the clan, and after Dangmag's death looked after the tribe too. Clan Mythology: The Hidden SheepIt is well-known that when the Lunars took our sheep our people feared for our future. Not only might we starve, but how could we make our robes, our Dunmantles of great fame, without their wool? The craft of our master weavers, and the secret of Balkoth's Blending seemed to no avail without the finest wool to fashion into our cowls and hoods. In their despair and trouble were only the dying words of Penterest Voriofson. "Seek the Hidden Sheep." Many fruitless hours did the shepherds and fyrd and thanes spend, as you may remember, you or your fathers before, in empty searching, before Taros the Weaver saw the answer revealed to him in a dream, thus. Many years ago Parnig Ragnaglarsson, a mighty broo, sought victims from which to create more of his kind. As he searched for prey he saw from his crag a flock in the higher pastures of these very hills, and charging downwards the vile creature killed the luckless shepherd outright with a single strike of his mighty head. But there against him stood the prize ram, Bircob by name, blessed of Heler, staunch and defiant. "You shall have neither me, nor mine!" he bellowed, and charged to lock horns and wrestle with the intruder. Long they struggled, until Elmal shrank in the sky, and still Bircob stood defiant: "You shall have neither me, nor mine!" But what Parnig lacked in might he bore in magic, and finally, spent in body but not in soul he backed off, and as he did so, wrought a mighty curse on Bircob and his flock. "If I shall not have you, then you shall have the look of me. All will see you and see me. None shall know you and all shall hate you! You may win in the pasture today, but not in the stead tomorrow, and your freedom will be bitter." And behold, even as these words fell upon his ears did Bircob see the power of them and heard the cruel laughter of Parnig as he sought an easier prey. Yet even in the hour of apparent defeat did Bircob triumph, and lead his goat-like flock away to a foreign land where Parnig and his kin were unknown, and there found his rest at last. So the following day Taros the Finder sought to prove this revelation, and taking the finest goats' wool fashioned a new Dunmantle, according to the ways his fathers and their fathers had taught, and this, it is said, is the very mantle now worn by Unstan Whitetooth, our chief, and tells his deeds so clearly. And so, within the very flocks that the Moon gave us lay the answer to our plight, the heirs of Bircob, among the Hidden Sheep. |
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