@Varnhessa - The Hesan Empire's First Conquest

Before its conquest by the newly unified Hesan Empire some 240 years ago during the reign of Emperor Sigmar I, the southeastern realm was known as the coastal Kingdom of Varnhessa, of stone citadels, salt winds, and mountain rites. Its people spoke a clipped, consonant-heavy tongue and traced their lineage to the Frostbound Kings, who claimed descent from sea spirits and mountain wolves. Its culture prized endurance, ancestral memory, and the sacred bond between land and blood. Though its armies were small, they were fiercely loyal and deeply superstitious, fighting with curved blades and bone-carved talismans. The kingdom fell not through weakness, but through isolation—its mountain passes sealed by snow, its coastal fleets outmatched by imperial steel.

Today, @Varnhessa is part of the Hesan Empire, and its people speak Hesan, wear imperial colors, and serve under noble houses appointed by the throne. Yet the old ways linger. Visitors note the stone masks worn during funerals, the salt-braided hair of coastal elders, and the moonlit vigils held on the equinox. Hesanized Varnesse houses, rumored to have betrayed its former king, that now rule Varnessa—Haus Drovanskir and Haus Velmira—have adopted the trappings of Hesan nobility, but their banners still bear symbols older than the empire: the wolf’s eye, the spiral tide, the broken crown.

The land of Varnessa is a realm of stark contrasts and quiet resilience. Its northwestern border rises into the mountains, whose snow-fed rivers carve deep valleys and mist-laced gorges before spilling into the lowlands. From there, the terrain softens into rolling pinewood hills, salt-streaked cliffs, and windblown coastal plains that stretch toward the stormy southern sea. Villages cling to the land like moss to stone—built from dark timber and riverstone, their roofs steep and shingled to shed snow and sea spray alike. Narrow roads wind between them, often flanked by standing stones or carved waymarkers bearing symbols older than the empire. In the highlands, settlements are sparse and fortified, with watchtowers that double as shrines. Along the coast, fishing hamlets cluster around natural harbors, their docks lashed with kelp and prayer-ribbons. Though imperial roads now cross the region, the villages of Varnessa still feel carved from an older world—weathered, watchful, and quietly enduring.

Tomb of Barbarossan - The Ancient pre-imperial King

(References @Barbarossan, the Warden of Frost , and @Tomb of Barbarossan )

High in the jagged peaks of the Drachenzahne Mountains lies a ruin shrouded in snow and silence: the @Tomb of Barbarossan, once a sanctum of ancient reverence, now a place of myth and dread. Legend holds that @Barbarossan, the Warden of Frost was a warlord of ancient Hesan descent, crowned not by lineage but by conquest. He unified the fractured highland clans and forged the first mountain accords, pledging Hesan steel to the first gods who carved order from chaos. Upon his death, he was entombed in a vault carved into the mountain itself, sealed with rites so old they predate the current imperial calendar.

The tomb is said to be unreachable in summer, as the mountain storms guard it jealously. Only in the thinning breath of winter can one ascend the narrow Mountain Approach that lead to its Broken Archway. The entrance is a broken arch of black stone, half-swallowed by ice, with the sigil of Hesa etched above: a sword entwined with a serpent. Inside, the air is still and bitter. The first chamber is a Rotunda of Murals of cracked pillars and faded murals depicting Barbarossan's campaigns—his pact with the sky-priests, his duel atop the burning ridge, his final march into the frost.

Deeper within lies the Hall of Vigil, where stone sentinels stand in eternal watch. It is said that Barbarossan sleeps beneath a slab of red granite in the Sanctum of the Warden, his beard still growing, his sword still warm. Some claim he will rise when Hesa is threatened by a foe no steel can pierce. Others say he stirs already.

@Barbarossan, the Warden of Frost

Barbarossan was no heir—he was a conqueror. In the age before the imperial calendar, he rose from the highland clans of Hesa, uniting them not by blood but by blade. His campaigns were brutal, but his vision was clear: a mountain accord, sealed by steel and sky. He pledged his warband to the gods that carved chaos into order, and in return, the regents gave him a tomb worthy of legend.

Some say he sleeps still, waiting for a threat no steel can pierce. Others whisper that he stirs already—that the Accord is broken, and the Warden must rise.