House Scalbie

Province: Houndwich

Leader: TBD

Economy: House Scalbie survives on the fringes of power by embracing what others discard. Their domain lies along the crumbling edges of the Withered Shore, where the land itself seems to lean into the sea. Here, they make their coin through coastal salvage, scavenging shipwrecks, and combing the tide for anything the waves decide to surrender. Wood, ore, corpses, strange creatures, odd artifacts drifting in from the League of Iamel-Zed, even magical relics of large power all wash up from time to time, far more than even the numerous shipwrecks that happen off the treacherous coasts would suggest. Whether these are smuggled goods, cursed fey relics, or divine warnings depends on who you ask. Scalbie doesn’t ask. They collect.

They trade these findings with other houses or hide them away in salt-stained caves beneath their sea-facing cliffs. A strange tool found in the surf may become a Scalbie heirloom or an offering to appease the tides.

Military: House Scalbie fields no true army. Their defense lies in knowledge of the coast, crude yet effective traps, and the strange fear they instill in trespassers. Their Shoreguard patrol the cliffs and beaches, wielding barbed tridents and harpoons tied with salt covered rope to their wrists. They wear bits of armor scavenged from drowned men and stained leather stitched from the odd beast that wash ashore, giving them a patchwork, eerie appearance.

Their most loyal defenders are the Saltbound, a fanatical band of scavenger-priests and warriors who tattoo their bodies with symbols from sea charts and cover their faces in masks. They believe the ocean whispers secrets in the bones of the drowned and will fight with maddened devotion to defend the coastline from what they call “the eyes beneath.”

History: House Scalbie claims their line began not on land, but when their founder was cast into the sea and crawled back out reborn, clutching a drowned crown. Whether myth or metaphor, the house has always treated the ocean as a divine force, equal parts god and grave. Before the destruction of Sunshelter, Scalbie warned of a coming surge. Other houses laughed—until the sea proved them right.

After the port fell and famine spread, many began to mutter that House Scalbie had brought the storm upon them through ancient rituals or forbidden pacts. Rather than deny the accusation, Scalbie embraced it. Their rituals became stranger, their shrines more elaborate, their speech more cryptic.

Now, they are seen as coastal prophets, scavengers, and madmen. Nobles scoff at them, Serfs fear them. Sailors leave offerings on driftwood altars rather than risk a curse.