Sgàilfen
The Shadowed Mire of the North
Tucked into the northeastern crook of the Sphere, bordered on three sides by the watchful might of the Draconis Combine and to the west by the brooding strength of Clan Arthfael, lies Sgàilfen — a realm of deep fog, silent trees, and secrets older than the Great Houses themselves. It is the homeland of Clan Sgàthach, and few beyond its borders can say they have seen it and returned.
Sgàilfen is no fertile plain nor proud mountain range. It is a land of twisting blackstone ridges, forests drowned in mist, and peat-choked fens that breathe with unseen heat. Trees here do not merely grow; they loom. Their roots strangle ancient dolmens. Their canopies blot out the sun. Paths shift in the night. Even the rivers forget their own shape. The land itself seems to possess an intent — one that welcomes only those born of it. Despite its grim reputation, Sgàilfen is not a dead land. Its wetlands and high forests teem with medicinal herbs, rare fungi, and game that cannot be found elsewhere in the Sphere. The people of Clan Sgàthach have learned to thrive by blending into the terrain, harvesting what they need without disturbing the deep balance of things. Villages are carved into the hollows of hills, masked by brush and spell. Communication is carried by whispering stones and feather-marked birds, rarely by roads.
The region is steeped in nature-bound magic, the kind that does not shimmer or explode but lingers, shifts, and waits. Druidic rituals are conducted in silence beneath silverleaf oaks older than the League of Stars. Travelers speak of stone circles that appear and vanish with the phases of the moon. There are places where sound itself seems swallowed whole. To outsiders, Sgàilfen is a myth — a place where armies go to vanish, where no banner flies longer than the wind allows. Draconis forces have tried again and again to chart its interior. None have succeeded. Even the boldest of their scouts return unnerved, or not at all, mumbling of trails that moved, voices in the trees, and the constant sense that they were being watched by something that understood them.
To Clan Sgàthach, Sgàilfen is not merely home. It is kin. The land does not serve them — it walks beside them. It remembers. It protects. And it punishes.
“You do not conquer Sgàilfen. You are either accepted by it... or lost to it.” — High Druid Moira of the Hollow Bough
Sgàilfen
Pronunciation: / SKAL-fen /
Type
Forest, Boreal (Coniferous)
Included Organizations
Owner/Ruler
Owning Organization
Contested By
