Ruulkanen

"There are many paths you cannot take in our mountain, honoured guest. If it looks like you should not be there, then turn back. Do you understand? You will not survive all the paths."

— A Ruulkanen guardsman

To make a horsehoe

Dwelling in vast citadels carved deep into the unyielding bones of the world, where the mountain's song reverberates through every hall. To the Ruulkanen, the mountain is not just a home; it is their lifeblood, their sanctuary, and their greatest teacher. Its steadfastness is their creed, its immensity their shield.
Their cities are masterpieces of engineering, each one a testament to their craftsmanship. Vaulted chambers stretch into the dark, their ceilings adorned with glittering veins of precious metals and gemstones that reflect the light of ever-burning forges. Intricate carvings tell stories of their history and legends, etched into every wall and pillar. Bridges span yawning chasms, aqueducts channel pure water from underground springs, and entire districts hum with the ceaseless activity of smithies, workshops, and trade halls.
The Ruulkanen are master smiths, their forges blazing with the heat of the mountain's heart. They wield hammer and anvil with a precision that borders on impossible, crafting weapons, armour, and tools that are as much works of art as they are instruments of function. Their skill with metals and alloys is unmatched; they create blades that sing in battle and shields that can turn aside a dragon's flame. Yet their craft extends beyond the martial. They fashion intricate mechanisms, clockworks that measure time with the precision of falling stone, and artifacts imbued with runic power.

To make an anchor

Their appearance reflects their closeness to the mountain. Their skin is pale, like ash or alabaster, bearing the subtle hues of stone. Their hair, thick and dark as the mountain's depths, is often braided and adorned with small metal clasps or gemstone beads. They wear sturdy garments of leather and woven metal, their attire functional yet richly decorated with embroidery and adornments that tell of their lineage and deeds. Their armour is an extension of their identity, each piece bespoke and engraved with symbols of protection and pride.
Among the Ruulkanen, clan loyalty is absolute. The clan is a fortress, a family bound by ties of blood and stone. Decisions are made in council chambers, where every voice is heard, and the weight of tradition guides their choices. Disputes are rare, for the Ruulkanen know the strength of unity, but when they arise, they are resolved with measured deliberation, the outcome etched into stone for posterity.
They are the guardians of the mountain's secrets. They speak of hidden paths and forbidden depths, of tunnels that lead to places best left undisturbed. Deep within their lore lies knowledge of creatures that dwell in the ground's unlit places, creatures that shouldn't be encountered if possible, and best not to be spoken of ever. Most fear to tread where the Ruulkanen dare, but their courage is tempered by caution, for they know the mountain's wrath is as unyielding as its shelter.

To make a blade

Magic, to them, is a natural extension of their craft. They are runesmiths, weaving enchantments into their creations with practiced hands and steady hearts. A blade might blaze with fire when drawn, a shield might glow with protective light, and a simple amulet might guard against ill fortune. Their runes are a language of power, each one carefully crafted spell anchored in the material world.
Their festivals are grand yet grounded, celebrating the turning of seasons, the founding of a citadel, or the completion of a great work. They feast in cavernous halls lit by large quartz braziers hung with heavy chains from the vaulted ceilings, their songs rising like the smoke from the fires. Their music is deep and resonant, played on instruments of stone and metal, each note a tribute to the mountain's enduring song.
To the Ruuljanen, life is a forging. They temper themselves in the fires of adversity, shaping their spirits as they shape their creations. They are the mountain's children, steadfast and enduring, their hearts as unyielding as the stone that cradles them.