| National Factbook |
| Flag: |
|
| Nation Name: |
Noctyros |
| Leader Name: |
Corvess Malreth |
| Currency: |
The Crescent |
| National Animal: |
Crimson Raven |
| History: |
Long ago, the lands that would become Noctyros were fractured among warring clans, each struggling to survive in a harsh landscape of mountains, mists, and blackened coasts. In an age of famine and endless bloodshed, a figure rose from the shadows — Corvess Malreth. He united the clans not only by the sword but by a doctrine: The Veil. He declared that light was fleeting, shadow eternal, and only through obedience could humanity endure.
From this creed, Malreth forged the Umbral Realm. Dravenholt, carved into obsidian cliffs, became the capital, crowned by the Citadel of Night, where ruler, faith, and state fused into one. Malreth took the title Night Chancellor, not as a king, but as the eternal servant and voice of shadow, ensuring that his rule was framed as destiny rather than ambition.
Over centuries, Noctyros hardened into a realm of fear and reverence. The Faith of the Veil taught that obedience was the only path to eternity, reinforced by crimson-robed priests who governed both soul and law. The Obsidian Legion, Crimson Wings, and Black Tide became the pillars of the military, each led by wardens who embodied the doctrine of shadow. The Whisperers and Eyes of Noctyros ensured silence at home, extinguishing dissent before it could take form.
Symbols became as powerful as swords. The flag, marked by the skeletal crimson raven and crescent veil, flew over every citadel and shrine. The currency, the Crescent ☾, carried the same symbols, turning even daily trade into an act of submission to the state. The raven itself — gaunt, skeletal, and hollow-eyed — was elevated to the rank of national animal, seen as a sacred being that devoured souls and carried them across The Veil.
Today, Noctyros stands as a realm where fear and eternity are inseparable. Its capital, Dravenholt, is a city of spires, mist, and endless vigilance, where every street echoes with the steps of soldiers and every shrine whispers of obedience. The people live knowing that their loyalty binds them in life, and their souls remain bound in death. Its motto, “Eternity Dwells in Darkness,” is not hope, but law — carved in stone, whispered in temples, and etched upon every life within the shadow of Noctyros. |
| Geography |
| Continent: |
North America |
| Land Area: |
6,035.03 sq. km |
| Terrain: |
The Umbral Realm of Noctyros is a land shaped by shadow and severity, its terrain as much a fortress as it is a symbol of its people’s faith. From the jagged mountain ranges of the north to the storm-lashed coasts of the south, the geography of the realm feels alive with mist and dread, reinforcing the belief that shadow itself guards the nation. Few places in Noctyros feel open or welcoming; the land seems designed to close in around its inhabitants, binding them to the eternal darkness of The Veil.
The north is dominated by the Ashfang Peaks, a volcanic mountain chain of black stone ridges and mist-wreathed passes. These mountains serve as both shield and crucible, for their mines provide obsidian, iron, and sulfur that fuel the forges of the capital. The few accessible passes are heavily fortified, turning the region into a near-impenetrable barrier that has protected Noctyros for centuries. The mountains themselves loom like silent sentinels, their jagged silhouettes merging with the gray sky.
To the west lies the Veilwood Expanse, an endless forest of towering, gnarled trees where light rarely penetrates the canopy. The air is thick with fog, and even at midday, the forest floor lies in twilight. For most, the Veilwood is a place of fear, a maze of shadows where even sound seems swallowed whole. Yet within its depths lie hidden shrines and temples to The Veil, where priests conduct sacred rites, and where legend claims the skeletal Crimson Ravens roost. For the people of Noctyros, the Veilwood is less a forest than a living manifestation of their faith.
The eastern frontier shifts into the Shadeward Steppes, a barren plain of dry soil and windswept grasses. Life here is harsh, with agriculture sustained only by rivers descending from the Ashfang Peaks. Farming settlements exist under strict oversight, their towns often doubling as garrisons for soldiers of the Obsidian Legion. Unlike the rest of the realm, the openness of the steppe offers no natural cover, and so it is heavily patrolled, ensuring the people remain under constant surveillance.
To the south, the Iron Coast marks the edge of the realm, a wall of jagged cliffs broken only by a handful of harbors carved into the stone. The sea here is storm-tossed and perilous, with black waves crashing endlessly against the rocks. It is on this coast that the Iron Docks stand, home to the Black Tide, Noctyros’ formidable navy. Shrouded by mist, the fleet lies hidden until it chooses to emerge, a phantom force that makes the coastline nearly unassailable.
At the nation’s heart lies Dravenholt, the capital, perched atop obsidian cliffs where rivers converge with the southern sea. The city is a labyrinth of narrow streets, towering spires, and mist-filled courtyards, all overshadowed by the Citadel of Night. The land around it is rugged and scarred, cut through by rivers and marshes that add to its foreboding character. Rising above all is the Citadel itself, a spire of black stone that can be seen for miles, a permanent silhouette against the gray horizon.
Throughout Noctyros lie scattered necropolises and shrines, the largest of which is the Silent Necropolis near Dravenholt. These grave-cities are not places of mourning but of reverence and fear, where priests whisper rites to The Veil and the Crimson Ravens perch on mausoleums as if guarding the dead. The land itself feels sacred to shadow, each mountain, forest, and coast reinforcing the doctrine that light fades, but darkness is eternal. |
| Highest Peak: |
Mount Veythar ,
4,912 meters
|
| Lowest Valley: |
Hollow of Tharos,
-47 meters
|
| Climate: |
The Umbral Realm of Noctyros is defined not only by its terrain but by its climate, which is as harsh and unforgiving as the doctrines of The Veil. The land exists in a state of perpetual twilight, where sunlight rarely pierces the thick mists that coil through valleys, forests, and cities. Even in the warmest seasons, skies remain overcast, and the air hangs heavy with chill. This gloom is not a quirk of nature but an inseparable part of the nation’s identity, shaping its people into a society accustomed to shadow and silence.
Winters in Noctyros are long and severe, marked by biting winds that howl through the Ashfang Peaks and sweep across the Shadeward Steppes. Snow often blankets the highlands and mountain passes, sealing off all but the strongest fortresses and mines. In the Veilwood, the snowfall barely reaches the forest floor, swallowed by its thick canopy, but the air remains frigid and damp. Citizens in these months cling to the warmth of hearths and temples, where priests of The Veil use the season as a reminder that light and warmth are fleeting, and only shadow endures.
Summers bring little reprieve. While temperatures rise slightly in the steppes and southern coast, the sun remains veiled by heavy cloud cover, turning days into muted gray and nights into endless fog. Thunderstorms are frequent along the Iron Coast, where black waves crash against the cliffs, feeding the legend that the Black Tide’s warships sail with the fury of the sea itself. Inland, the rains are steady and persistent, keeping the land damp and fertile in some regions, though the eastern plains struggle under poor soil and overcast skies.
The western Veilwood maintains its own unique microclimate, where fog lingers year-round, and twilight seems permanent. Travelers often report feeling disoriented within its mists, as though the forest manipulates the weather itself to hide sacred shrines and whispering ravens. The Silent Necropolis outside Dravenholt is similarly enveloped in a constant haze, where even the rare sunlight bends weakly through the veil of mist, lending the grave-city its eternal pallor.
Humidity remains high across the nation, and the air is almost always heavy with mist or rain. This dampness seeps into the architecture of Dravenholt, staining obsidian towers with streaks of silver-gray and feeding the growth of moss along its cobbled streets. Combined with the chill winds from the north and storms from the southern sea, Noctyros’ climate is one of endless gloom — not deadly enough to prevent life, but oppressive enough to shape every part of it.
For the people of Noctyros, the climate is both curse and creed. The absence of sunlight is accepted as proof of The Veil’s eternal dominion, and the unchanging gloom has become a constant reminder of the state’s motto: “Eternity Dwells in Darkness.” In Noctyros, even the skies bend to shadow, and the weather itself seems sworn to the eternal rule of night. |
| People & Society |
| Population: |
283,549 people |
| Demonym: |
Noctyrian |
| Demonym Plural: |
Noctyrians |
| Ethnic Groups: |
Umbrith - 70.0%
Veyrmari - 17.0%
Tharoxians - 13.0% |
| Languages: |
Umbric - 78.0%
Veyric - 14.0%
Tharoxi - 8.0% |
| Religions: |
Faith of the Veil - 82.0%
The Ashen Creed - 12.0%
Cult of the Crimson Maw - 6.0% |
| Health |
| Life Expectancy: |
56 years |
| Obesity: |
5% |
| Alcohol Users: |
42% |
| Tobacco Users: |
26% |
| Cannabis Users: |
6% |
| Hard Drug Users: |
2% |
| Economy |
| Description: |
The economy of the Umbral Realm of Noctyros is not a pursuit of wealth or prosperity but an instrument of control. Every industry, harvest, and exchange is bound to the authority of the Night Chancellor and the doctrine of The Veil. Citizens are taught that economic activity itself is a sacred duty, a contribution to eternity, rather than a means of personal advancement.
Agriculture is centered in the Shadeward Steppes, where harsh soil and cold climates limit what can be grown. Grain, root vegetables, and hardy livestock provide the staples of survival, though nearly all food is distributed by the state through rations. This ensures that the people remain dependent on Dravenholt’s authority, with hunger and relief doled out according to obedience. Fishing along the Iron Coast supplements the diet, but even the catch of the seas is strictly measured, inspected, and taxed under the eye of the Black Tide.
Industry thrives in the Ashfang Peaks, where vast mines produce obsidian, iron, and sulfur. These raw materials are channeled directly into the forges of Noctyros, creating weapons, armor, and war machines for the Obsidian Legion and the naval fleets. Skilled laborers and smiths exist, but their craft is never private—what they forge belongs to the state, and their artistry often takes the form of ceremonial engravings, banners, and relics intended to glorify The Veil.
The Iron Docks along the southern cliffs form one of the most vital sectors of the economy. Here, Tharoxian shipwrights build the obsidian-plated warships of the Black Tide, vessels that are both engines of war and symbols of terror. While some goods trickle in from trade through these ports, the economy is largely closed, with all exchanges monopolized by the state. Independent trade is forbidden, and any attempt at private wealth is treated as treason.
Religion is tightly woven into the economy. Temples of The Veil act as both houses of worship and distribution centers, collecting offerings in exchange for rations and dispensing state-approved goods. Tithes are mandatory, but they are framed as sacred offerings, not taxes. In this way, even worship feeds the machinery of the state, ensuring that spiritual and material needs are inseparably linked to loyalty.
The wealth that exists is distributed unequally. The Umbrith majority, especially those closest to Dravenholt, enjoy slightly better access to food and privileges. The Veyrmari and Tharoxians, while vital, remain confined to harsher labor roles and under closer watch, their economic lives tightly controlled. At the highest level, priests, officers, and administrators live in comparative luxury, with access to imported goods and comforts, though even they cloak indulgence under the guise of ritual.
In truth, the economy of Noctyros is not designed for growth or prosperity but for endurance and obedience. Its industries, its food supply, its ships, and its mines exist to maintain the eternal night of the state. Poverty is not seen as failure but as discipline, and the scarcity that would cripple other nations is transformed here into a weapon of loyalty. In Noctyros, survival itself is an act of service to shadow, and every coin, every ration, every blade is a reminder that eternity dwells in darkness. |
| Average Yearly Income: |
$56.91 |
| Gross Domestic Product (GDP): |
$605,380,972.00 |
| GDP per Capita: |
$2,135.00 |
| Gross National Income (GNI): |
$519,332,585.00 |
| Industries: |
The foremost industry of Noctyros is mining and metallurgy, centered in the Ashfang Peaks. The mountains are rich in obsidian, iron, and sulfur, resources that fuel the forges of Dravenholt and arm the Obsidian Legion. Blacksmiths, miners, and laborers form the backbone of this industry, working under grueling conditions with all output channeled into state stockpiles. Weapons, armor, siege engines, and naval plating are produced in great volume, leaving little room for civilian luxury goods.
The naval industry is another pillar of Noctyros’ strength, concentrated in the Iron Docks. Here, the Tharoxians dominate shipbuilding, crafting the obsidian-plated warships of the Black Tide. This industry not only sustains the fleet but also maintains coastal defenses and fishing vessels under strict state oversight. Sailcloth, rope, and pitch are manufactured in smaller workshops to support this naval dominance. Naval industries consume a massive share of labor and resources, as the regime considers control of the sea as vital to survival as control of the land.
Agriculture and food production operate under harsh conditions in the Shadeward Steppes. Grain, root crops, and hardy livestock are raised, though soil infertility makes yields modest. The state supplements this with fishing and preserved goods from the coast. Because survival is precarious, the regime enforces tight quotas and rations, distributing food through temples of The Veil. Farming is less an independent profession and more a collective duty enforced by military garrisons.
Religious industries are unique to Noctyros. Temples of The Veil commission artisans to create relics, banners, effigies, and ritual items. The production of ceremonial goods — raven masks, crescent emblems, and shrine ornaments — sustains a large portion of the artisan class. Even common goods like pottery, textiles, and coins are produced with religious motifs, turning daily life into an act of worship.
Smaller industries include forestry and herbal production in the Veilwood Expanse, where woodcutters and herbalists gather timber and medicinal plants. Much of this is funneled into shipbuilding, fuel for forges, or controlled medicine production. Among the Veyrmari, secret workshops still craft blends of incense and ritual smoke for outlawed rites, though these are constantly suppressed by the Whisperers.
Trade and luxury goods are limited but not absent. Controlled ports bring in rare spices, cloth, and metals from beyond the borders, but only the elite and priesthood enjoy them. For most citizens, life is sustained by the industries of necessity — mining, forging, farming, and shipbuilding — industries that do not enrich but bind the population into eternal service.
|
| Military |
| History: |
The military of Noctyros is the lifeblood of the state, the iron hand that enforces obedience within and projects terror without. Unlike many realms, where armies defend the land, in Noctyros the army exists as an extension of The Veil. Every soldier is indoctrinated from birth to see themselves as both a weapon of the state and a servant of eternity. Loyalty is enforced not just through fear of death, but through the belief that disobedience severs the soul from eternal shadow.
The Obsidian Legion serves as the backbone of the ground forces. Hardened by endless drills and clad in blackened armor, they are an unstoppable wall of discipline. Their formations are rigid, their standards absolute, and their loyalty unquestioned. From the lowest footsoldier to the armored war-beast divisions, the Legion dominates the fields and fortresses of Noctyros. Its command rests with the Veilwarden-General, a title that ties military authority directly to the faith of the state.
The skies belong to the Crimson Wings, Noctyros’ air force. Formed from both the ingenuity of engineers and the mystique of religious symbolism, their black-and-crimson craft prowl the skies like spectral predators. Their pilots are regarded as chosen warriors of The Veil, their oaths binding them to eternal service. The Skywarden leads the force, ensuring the dominion of shadow stretches not only across the land but into the heavens.
On the seas, the Black Tide reigns supreme. Built in the Iron Docks by Tharoxian shipwrights, these obsidian-plated vessels are both war machines and icons of dread. They appear suddenly from the mist, vanishing just as quickly, striking terror into any who sail against them. Their commanders are sworn to the Seawarden, whose authority is absolute in matters of naval war and coastal defense.
Supporting these three branches is a vast web of spies, inquisitors, and secret police known as the Whisperers. They do not fight wars in open battle but ensure the silence of dissent, both within Noctyros and beyond its borders. The Whisperers operate under the Eyes of Noctyros, an unseen order that guarantees loyalty through fear, blackmail, and assassination.
Every citizen is bound to military service, whether as soldier, laborer, or auxiliary. From youth, Noctyrians are drilled in the discipline of obedience. Those who serve well are exalted as loyal children of eternity; those who falter are erased, their memory struck from record as though they never existed.
The military is not merely a protector of the realm but the spine of its society. The Obsidian Legion enforces order in the streets, the Crimson Wings patrol the skies like carrion birds, and the Black Tide ensures that even the seas belong to the shadow. Together they embody the eternal motto of Noctyros: “Eternity Dwells in Darkness.” |
| Soldiers: |
2,300 |
| Tanks: |
58 |
| Aircraft: |
3 |
| Ships: |
2 |
| Missiles: |
0 |
| Nuclear Weapons: |
0 |
| Last Updated: 08/23/2025 08:52 pm |
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