When the Picts of Old Earth’s Caledonia were swept to Hyperborea by the sorcery of their ancient, white-bearded shaman, they arrived at the main island of a group they would come to call New Pictland. Here they thrived, eradicating small pockets of Esquimaux and Tlingit whose presence on the island was limited. The Picts thrived, and over time this once-small cult of tattooed diabolists exploded into a populous race that spread all about New Pictland. They founded a Pictish kingdom and seated a king who, in Fidib, took his counsel from the ancient shaman, Ptarmigan. The Picts of New Pictland waged a long, brutal war with the Tlingit of the Savage Boreal Coast. It is said to have lasted more than three centuries, but the Picts prevailed. Systematically they began to eradicate the native Tlingit population, but then a fascinating phenomenon was discovered: Whenever unfortunate unions betwixt Pictish conquerors and Tlingit women transpired, the progeny were twins. The rulers of Fidib thus concluded that the best way to ensure the prosperity of the Savage Boreal Coast was to execute or forcibly castrate all Tlingit men and assign Tlingit women as wives to the Pictish conquerors. The strategy was a success, but a species of contempt soon grew for these half-breed Picts. This disdain led to later strife, as is detailed in the Savage Boreal Coast entry. When the Green Death struck, the Picts proved amongst the most resilient of races; their population was merely halved. Sages suggest environment, diet, and sorcery as potential explanations. Presently many tribes and fortress villages are found throughout New Pictland, and each has its own kinglet, but in the walled citadel of Fidib resides the high king. New Pictland is a land of significant resources. It may well have the most plenteous mines of electrum and silver in the realm. Likewise, the islands produce furs and rare woods. The Picts are not active traders, however, for they believe they are the master race of the realm. Notwithstanding, clandestine cults are said to exist in New Pictland whose members subscribe to druidism, a forbidden religion. The islands’ woodlands are reputed to be festooned with webs, and astonishingly massive spiders have been reported, these regarded with disturbing religious reverence.
This massive citadel of wood and stone with adjoining city is the capital of New Pictland, population 12,000. Here rules the high king, a savage, intractable warrior whose thirst for domination will not be slaked. His chief advisor is a seemingly ageless, white-bearded shaman known as the Ancient One. Some dare whisper that this is Ptarmigan himself, undying. Fidib is remarkable for its massive, black stone temple dedicated to Tlakk-Nakka. The citadel’s harbour is filled with war canoes. The men of Fidib brook not the visitations of non-Picts, as they consider themselves at war with the world. Across the Pictish Channel, most Pictish tribes of the Savage Boreal Coast no longer pay tribute to the high king. These are considered enemies of New Pictland; indeed, even those who continue to offer fealty are regarded with distaste by the high king and his many kinglets.
This village of some 400 Picts is best noted for the sacred rock on which the original Pictish immigrants mystically disembarked from Old Earth. Ptarmigan Rock thus became the first colony of New Pictland, but at length its popularity was supplanted by the more favourably located Fidib; notwithstanding, Ptarmigan Rock remains a significant religious and cultural site. Ages ago, long before the Green Death swept across the realm, the apex of the rock was carved to bear the likeness of Ptarmigan, the white-bearded shaman who led the Picts to Hyperborea. The image shewn on this effigy has long since faded, though some say that the stone transmits mystical protections to full-blooded Picts. Lastly, Ptarmigan Rock is a rookery for a most peculiar breed of seasonally camouflaged grouse able to mock human speech. Pictish shamans esteem these birds sacred, to be sacrificed to forest spiders when both moons are full.
New Vinland is a land of rolling hills rich with wheat, elderberries, and blackberries; however, it is perpetually vulnerable to stormy weather off the Hyperborean Sea. This peninsula and extending island pair has switched hands betwixt Vikings, Kelts, bands of sea reavers, and ultimately Vikings again. History shews that the Vikings were first to settle the region after a series of conflicts with local skrælings (loosely, “foreigners”), whom sages believe may have been Esquimaux, Lapps, Tlingit, or Yakuts. The Vikings built their sturdy longhouses in the hills and by all accounts flourished. This, of course, was in that bygone age after the ice thawed, yet before the Hyperboreans emerged from their fastnesses in the Spiral Mountain Array. When the Vikings made inland forays and were met by the Kelts, numerous skirmishes ensued. The races became bitter enemies. Unfortunately for New Vinland, Vikland lacked the resources to continuously support the colonies. At length the Kelts were victorious, overthrowing the Viking settlements of New Vinland. The Kelts bred cattle in New Vinland and harvested its wheat and fruit. Druidism flourished in the region, and menhirs were erected all about the hills. Then came the Green Death, and the Kelts of New Vinland were annihilated. Centuries later, bands of reavers settled the peninsula and islands. Theirs was a lawless, bloody society, predicated on murder and robbery, but when they sought to aggressively control the waters surrounding their island, a recuperating Vikland would not suffer it. A short-lived war ensued, the Vikings driving off the unorganized reavers. It is believed that many of the surviving reavers settled the Brigand’s Bay region. Presently, New Vinland prospers again, with five longhouse villages, each of 800–1,200 inhabitants. Each town is its own petty kingdom, owing fealty to the Over-King in Erikssgard, for New Vinland is considered an annex of Vikland. Currently relations are better with the local Kelts, and healthy trade proceeds. New Vinland elderberries and blackberries are popular trade products, oftest used for wine and jelly; too, the Vikings harvest bountiful wheat crops. They also raise sheep and domesticate aurochs. Lastly, a few copper and silver mines are also worked.
This small, forested island lies within the confines of that most treacherous belt of ocean currents known as the River Okeanos. Onja Cot, which is named after its seemingly immortal shaman, is the dwelling place of Pictish cannibals who file their teeth to points and whose abominable customs are shunned by even the most terrifying Picts of New Pictland. Naked but for masks woven of leaves and grasses, these savages roam as beasts do; notwithstanding, they are cunningly intelligent and produce fine war canoes, which they use to pillage mainland Hyperborea, abducting men, women, and children for their unspeakable rites. The savages of Onja Cot are said to grind the flesh of their victims, mixing in dried lotus leaves and other spices, and then devouring it raw. This excites them to religious fervour as they cavort about their island and engage in terrible orgies, all under the watchful eye of their living god, the shaman Onja Cot, whose coffers are said to be laden with ivory and gold.
This frigid tundra is considered uninhabitable by most men, except the doughty Esquimaux. The Plain of Leng is roamed by musk oxen, woolly rhinoceroses, and woolly mammoths. Esquimaux dog sledding tribes herd reindeer and hunt mammoth on the tundra, and oft they give chase to the elusive black fox, the pelts of which fetch rich sums. Ice fishers, they build igloos, or erect tents framed by mammoth tusks and covered in mammoth and musk ox skins. Too, they leave offerings to Ythaqqa, the god of the abominable snow-men. The Esquimaux trade furs, skins, fish, and ivory. On occasion they also harvest gems. With the exception of the lofty heights of the interior Spiral Mountain Array, no place in Hyperborea is colder than the Plain of Leng, for the winds are relentless. Astounding creatures thrive in this wasteland, from the most fearsome of tundra beasts to roving tribes of abominable snow-men, to perhaps the most enigmatic species in all of Hyperborea: the men of Leng. Whether the men of Leng are of Earthly origins or not is a matter of conjecture. They are a nomadic race of satyrs who communicate via music and empathy. On their leaper camels they traverse the sheeted plains of this hostile wilderness and likewise the Leng Plateau. It is said they follow winds that produce spectral harmonies, the terrible “Song of Azathoth”. Lastly, some poets and madmen suggest that Kthulhu dwells in his lost city in a black reservoir deep below the frozen Plain of Leng.
This vast, cold wasteland is composed of dry, rocky, sandy terrain with swaths of steppes. Reptiles of many species inhabit the Red Desert, including giant lizards, snakes, and crocodiles (where the two major rivers flow). Tribes of hyæna-men are said to roam the desert, and packs of blink dogs have been reported. Wild asses, camels, goats, and horses dwell in the Red Desert. Humans are not known to settle the Red Desert, but iron, lead, and salt mines are established from time to time; these oft come to unfortunate ends. Other men seek the rare forms of lotus reputed to grow amongst the steppe scrub.