Vulmohn Ethnicity in Pangorio | World Anvil


TW: Graphically written scene of rated R violence

"We'll save a month of travel crossing here." Ylfrud Trainer said as he stared across the expanse of badlands with his captain's glass. It had been a costly purchase but it had proven its worth many times already.   "Bad to cross the Bad's, Master Trainer," Fashi, a gheni of red and gold striped fur, said. "We be slow with carts and will need to bring water."   "Look at all the open space, Fashi." Trainer continued. "If we keep the mountains to our right we could cross that in a day, maybe two. I say we cross here."  
* * * * *
  A whip cracked into Fashi's back, knocking him to the ground.   "Keep digging that row, kitty cat!" The eighteen foot tall man with deep red skin and braided red-black hair snarled.
Trainer, who was chained to Fashi, helped the gheni to his feet and handed him his hoe before quickly getting back to work. Guilt ate at him. He and Fashi were the last ones left of his caravan.   Those that hadn't been gutted and roasted over fires for their Vulmohn masters to feast on had been taken into the smoking mountain to be used as bait for something they called an ahnk. None had returned.   He wanted nothing more to just give up and die, but there was still Fashi. Somehow, he had to find a way for Fashi to escape. He owed the gheni that much.   For himself, he did not care. It was only right that he face the same fate as those he had led into this horrible place.


  A Vulmohn is a species of man who stand eighteen feet tall. Most have broad shoulders and powerful builds from a lifetime of training for battle. Their skin is a dark deep red free of any hair except for red-black head hair. Males shave their heads save for the hair on the backs of their heads that they keep in tight braids trimmed to never reach past their shoulders. Females grow their hair longer and keep it in a myriad of braided styles.   Conquest beats in the hearts of every Vulmohn, though how to attain it can vary. Every Vulmohn, male or female, is raised to swing a Veriduun axe and wear nickel-iron that is as immune to heat as they themselves are. Luckily for the rest of the world, the Vulmohn believe the only way they can conquer the world is for all Vulmohn to be united under one emperor. Each King or Queen thinks THEY should be emperor or emperess and all other Vulmohn rulers should bow to them as they lead the Great Conquest. Such thinking has left the Vulmohn kingdoms constantly fighting each other.  

Feur-Tor Reng

  Feur-Tor Reng is Giant Tongue meaning Fire Mountain Range. Every mountain in the range is a smoking volcano and is home to a kingdom of Vulmohn.   Beyond the mountains are great stretchs of stark land that are cooled flows of lava that have poured out now and again over the ages. It is a near barren place that struggles to grow meagers crops worked by slaves and the lesser Vulmohn who have been proven too weak to march to the wars.


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