Maelstrom Campaign - Major Nations: Malathia

Malathia is not a wealthy nation. The mountainous land provides reasonable pasture for flocks of sheep and goats but there are few areas fertile enough to produce a good harvest. The great mountain range that forms the Malathian border contains deposits of iron and copper but only small amounts of silver and none of the gold and gems to be found in other parts. The rocky shoreline contains few natural harbours and most trading vessels, fearing piracy, look to pass by the Malathian coast with as much speed as possible. It is sometimes said that the Malathians live here because no-one else wants this land.

Despite, or perhaps because of this, the Malathian people have made their fierce independence and bold spirit their most prized possession. The Malathian folk combine the best qualities of the people of all lands, the adventurous daring of the Rukhi, the style and civility of the Flembic nobility, the warrior spirit of the Fidelians and the bold determination to emerge triumphant that marks the Mayan dragons. Nowhere does this defiance of fear express itself better than upon the open sea. Malathian ships and Malathian sailors are the undisputed masters of the waves. When storms grow so fierce that Merisusi vessels run for shelter, Malathian captains pile on extra sail.

The clan is the basic structure of the Malathian people. There are more than fifty different clans that own land in Malathia according to the royal counts held at Nordon. Most clans keep flocks of sheep, goats and cattle which graze the lush wet grass that covers the Malathian mountain sides. An old Malathian saying claims that tradition is cut from the stone of the mountains and will endure just as long. Perhaps as a result, the traditional practices of raiding and thieving from neighbouring clan's herds continues. In Malathia though, wealth is not measured in acres of farmland or hunting grounds but in the number of ocean going vessels a clan owns. Most of these vessels are fishing ships, whalers or cargo vessels, but many clans hold to ancient Malathian traditions and do keep at least one pirate vessel amongst their fleet.

Piracy is illegal in Malathia and King Charles has done his very best to control the practice but the clans fiercely guard their independence and there are limits to what can be achieved.

First Meeting
Although the capital Nordon is by no means the biggest harbour, it can truthfully claim to be the busiest sea port in the Known World. Every manner of ship draws up berth here at some time. Battle barges tie up alongside slave ships and raptors. Scores of taverns line the waterfront where the seafarer can find hospitality, a place to sell a cargo or hire a crew. The king's bondsmen patrol the harbour walls; keeping the peace and making sure nothing is loaded or unloaded without King Charles receiving his due.

There are few ports that can rival Nordon, but if you can find a pilot to help you navigate the treacherous waters of a clan's harbour, you will find their hospitality no less welcoming and their merchants no less eager for trade. Malathians consider it rude to pry into another man's affairs. Being the victims of an unwarranted degree of fear and prejudice they make an effort to judge each man by the face he presents to them. In stark contrast to its reputation, Malathia is a friendly and tolerant land, and more than once it has served as a temporary home to those individuals who have incurred the wrath of foreign powers.

Fashion
In the lowlands of Malathia, where the people consider themselves seafarers, the kilt has almost universally disappeared to be replaced with breeches, a fine overcoat, and high boots; complemented by a good hat. The highland clans still preserve the ancestral kilts, a mid length woollen skirt, often plain but sometimes woven with a pattern running through. Stout boots and warm socks protect the legs and complement the kilt. In either case a fine flaxen or silk shirt with cuffs and collar is the basis of either garment with a cutlass and baldric slung over the top. In the highlands, young women still make two shirts for their dowry and even a plain girl can catch a good man if she can sew a good fitting shirt. Although great rivalry exists between Malathia and Flambard, in recent times the frockcoat has won favour in Nordon.

Religion
Malathia is not a devout land and there are no great churches or cathedrals, even in Nordon. Malathians have little time for priests or shows of piety; most prefer to keep their beliefs to themselves. No God is without a shrine there though, and most clansmen are God-fearing folk at heart. Passionate followers of the Huntress and the Smith can usually count on a warm welcome in most clan holdings, so long as they do not seek to proselytise. The Weaver is popular across Malathia, as is the Merchant to a lesser extent.

The situation is more precarious for followers of the Teacher. Three times in the last century Malathia has been the subject of a Fidelian crusade and there is little love for the Teacher in these parts. Whilst the king's law protects any traveller it is unwise to rely on this in the highlands which are far from his reach. Symbols of the Teacher are best worn beneath your robes if you have cause to walk the mountains of Malathia.

Trade
The Malathian reputation means that no nation will allow a vessel carrying a Malathian flag into their harbour and none dare to put a ship bearing their own flag into Nordon. As a result, all the great trading houses and many of the smaller ones maintain large and prosperous offices here. All manner of cargoes turn up here and anything that is bought and sold somewhere can be had for a price in Nordon, or in one of the many clan harbours that are dotted all along the coastline. Although there is great antipathy towards the Kamakurans and Flembic people, both the Mark and the Kyat are accepted here. Attempts by the Malathian king to introduce a Malathian currency have always failed to win the crucial support of the highland clans.

Barrels of salted fish, dried fruit and meat and good quality hides and fleeces are produced for sale by Malathia. Ships, though, are the one great Malathian export. Nordon contains dozens of shipyards and half the vessels produced by Malathian shipwrights are sold to trading houses. Ultimately, trade itself is the life blood of Malathia and Nordon is its heart. Even slaves are bought and sold in great numbers here although there is little market for them in Malathia.

In recent years the pistol has become a favoured weapon amongst Malathian highlanders and seafarers alike. Entire barrels of darkpowder are unloaded on the docks and sold by Alkonian auction from bonded warehouses. Despite the recent legal ruling in Freiboden, muskets still come up for sale in Malathia and always trade hands for a high price.

And so it began......

Dawn breaks, war looms, the evil Lord is gathering his armies to wage a campaign of destruction upon the free peoples of the world. It is up to I, Sir Maximilan Pegasus to stop him, with my trusted band of adventurers we must gather the enchanted sword of Tek, the Shield of Way-Lem and the amulet of Subsidence and together we shall slay this abomination! “TIME FREEZE” And bam, the fantasy world fades away, the enchanted sword of Tek in my hand is a rubber sword smothered in coloured ribbons with a laminated card cable tied to the hilt, I look down and I’m wearing plastic armour and unflattering heropants, and the magical world of my imagination washes away to reveal a field in Wigan, but you know what? It’s larp and I’m a larper, it’s what I do.
I started larping when I was 17, I’d never role-played before, I’d never played D&D or Warhammer, never played WoW or any form of online game, I’d never even read Lord of the Rings, I feel somewhat privileged that I hadn’t done any of those things, I think it gave me an untainted attitude towards what larp could be, I had no preconceptions about saving the maiden fair, slaying the dragon or smiting the liche, to me it was just a new thing to try.
It was cold, really cold, 10am on a September morning, the rain was battering down and I’d been given a faux fur tunic, a mouldy old sword and been pointed towards a man and told, “You’re monstering, there’s the ref he’ll tell you what to do.” I obeyed, I played wave after wave of zombies, orcs and various line monsters and to be honest, was cold, bored and hungry. That is, until lunchtime, the teams switched sides, I got into the kit I’d scrounged up, as with most first timers, a black trenchcoat. I took the mouldy old sword, stood with my fellow adventurers and it hit me, I’m a god damn hero!
Pow, there it was, a new larper was born.