The Valurians

## Lore (OOC)

The Valurians are a race of warrior people that live and breath battle. They are known for their signature masks, which they never remove except for when in the pressence of their own clanmates, which they trust with their life. Devotion is a word almost not strong enough to describe how they treat this way of life. It has become a religion to them, commonly referred to as The Way.

### The Way

In Valurian history, it is said that they where the first race to ever master the art of forging metal, and entered the bronze age long before any others on their plane. This led to them proudly wearing fully covering armor, being extremely profficient warriors. The domination of Valure spread rapidly, and soon, through countless battles, a realization struck them. No matter how hard their enemies prayed, or how complex their rituals, there was no hope for them in battle. So Valure cast aside these weak gods (Some say the even slew them) and took up the mantle of the forge, worshipping the armor in which they could trust. The armor and weapons in which they knew made them strong. The mask's of each Valurian is unique, and is considered their own face. Removing it in public is the ultimate dishonor, ending their walk in The Way and considering this death. No afterlife is waiting for them, only the end of The Way.

### Politics

Valurian clans do not have a leader. Instead, they operate on a voting system where tie breakers are decided by duels. This has lead to much confusion amongst their enemies, as their are no leaders to target in battle. Each Valurian warrior fights as if he is a general. The warriors operate on bounty work, which is their bread and butter, individually. Whenever someone attempts to hire the entire clan, they must join together and decide on it, making the process a bit arduous.

### New Valurian's

Becoming a new Valurian warrior is no easy feat. To begin, the Foundling(Persons attempting to join) must find a Sponsor, who must be a current warrior of the clan. They are then sent forth to complete a set of trials decided by the Sponsor, always ending in a duel between Foundling and Sponsor. After the duel, the Sponsor decides whether they are worthy or not of becoming true Valure. The Sponsor will decide a title for that warrior to use based on their skills/capabilities. They then begin the process of Forging.

### The Forging

The temple of the Valurians is referred to as The Forge. It is a sacred place, and no outsiders are allowed to enter. If any are caught inside, they are killed without question. Here, Foundlings are brought in to have armor forged for themselves. This armor includes their signature mask, which is placed upon their mask by their Sponsor and the Forgemaster, symbolizing acceptance into the clan.

## Tavern Stories (IC Info)

A jovial, warm tavern filled with laughter on a winters night, the many patrons chatting amongst themslves, spread about the well lit room. Many drinks where passed around, people of all races enjoying some comfort from the harsh cold. Suddenly a strong breeze blew through, disturbing the peace the of the tavern goers. Masked and cloaked, he made his way to the bounty board through the now silent tavern as eyes glared him down, but they paid him no mind. The sound of paper being torn from the wall disturbed them as he ripped away a poster, swiftly leaving, silence lingering a moment. From a corner, a dwarf piped up. "Was that... a Valurian?" A human chimed in from the other side. "I think it may have been..." More feminine in voice, a woman piped up. "Me grandpa told me they don't worship gods cause they killed theirs.." An orc laughed at this. "No, they are demons, sent up to punish us!" Squeaking, a goblin threw in his piece as well. "Mums says they is faceless monsters that take away bad youngins.." Another long silence followed for a moment as they all took in this information before an older, more weathered elf piped up from his formerly lonely corner. "Aye, all those things could be true. All I know is, I've never seen one without the mask. And I've never seen one fail at his craft." One of the humans spoke up again, "Well, what would that be?". The old man was silent before looking up at his crowd, holding them in suspense a second longer. "War."