The Rhino Lords of the Eastern Plateau

If you travel from the holy capital of Hurriaä toward the direction of the rising sun, you will, after a long and arduous journey, reach a land known as the Eastern Plateau.

Though the air here is not as thin as in the northern plateau it borders, it is still far above sea level, and compared to the mild climate of the capital, this is a cold and dreadful land.

Further to the east lie the great mountains that envelop the land of Tenehu, but the Eastern Plateau itself is relatively flat, with no great peaks. The wind howls constantly and batters all who live here, making them hardy and rough—and none are more so than the great woolly rhinos that dominate this land. They are lumbering, solitary giants that roam the rolling hills of the plateau.

Their fierce nature, great strength, and massive size have made them revered animals among the people who inhabit these lands. Even the elves were awed by them and sought to bend them to their will, using them as beasts of war against their neighbors.

For this, they are not as suited nor regarded with the same status as the noble mammoths brought to these lands by the elves themselves.

Yet the Rhino Lords, as they have come to be known, regard themselves as no lesser than the haughty Mammoth Lords to their north.

These elven lords sit on platforms upon their rhinos’ backs, from which they rain arrows and javelins down upon their foes as their great mounts stampede into combat, tossing any unfortunate victims aside as if they were but rag dolls.

Yet these are beasts of great temper and will, and they are hard to control. Unlike the bond between mammoths and their riders, these rhinos will often stubbornly refuse command or attack their riders’ own levy soldiers in uncontrollable fury. But when these beasts charge as directed, none can stand in their thundering path; even mammoths have been slain, impaled upon the mighty horn of the rhino. For all their strong will and temper, they are without compare when lord and mount act in perfect harmony.

The Rhino Lords are dressed in great suits of armor, often lined with fine furs to keep the harsh winds at bay. They wear hoods with integrated goggles that fit over their scaled coifs and beneath their helmets, protecting them from frostbite and guarding their eyes against the constant threat of snow blindness.

They fight with bows and javelins, but their favored weapon is a large two-handed halberd—much like the horn of the rhino—capable of piercing the strongest armor.

To see two Rhino Lords clash is a terrifying sight: their great mounts slam into one another as the lords—tied down with silk ribbons upon their platforms—swing their deadly halberds with beautiful, swift precision unmatched by men.

Unlike most duels between elves, these melees are often fought to the death, for few can withstand the fury of such beasts and weapons. This gives the Rhino Lords as fierce a reputation as their mounts, and whenever such a lord descends from the high plateau with war on his mind, most other lords hide behind their walls rather than daring to meet him in battle.

Yet these terrible beasts are known for breaking down gates with ease, so most lords in the lands below find it best to appease these highland rulers in one way or another.

As the Eastern Plateau is a poor land compared to the terraced farms below, the lords often sell some of their young rhinos to merchants, for these creatures are the only true wealth of the plateau. Merchant caravans gladly oblige, knowing these beasts will always find eager buyers.

For this reason, the lords brand the animals they claim as theirs and fight among themselves over the roaming herds.

They live in relatively small villages, and their human serfs are few in number compared to other settlements in the cursed realm.

They dress in warm colors to counter the bleak climate—a fashion also adopted by the humans of the villages. Thick, fur-lined coats, hoods, and cloaks keep them warm during their constant task of tracking the rhinos.

Their main sustenance comes from a small breed of potato, as well as meat from the abundant reindeer that roam the region, which they either hunt or herd. Always in competition with the reindeer clans of the Eastern Plateau—an offshoot of the mountain folk well adapted to this harsh environment—they endure through grit and necessity.

These conditions forge the villagers into tough fighters. The elven lords keep no standing levies; rather, all their subjects are fit for arms at a moment’s call. They fight willingly for their lords, knowing their survival depends on them—for without their lord and his mount, they would soon be lost to the many predators, both beastly and manlike, that stalk this land.