Hebura Star System

Hebura Star System

Major Holdings – General Information

History

The Hebura Star System
As told by Witch Lord Bertwin Gisking Bearspear

There are star systems that breathe with history, where each stone of a world holds the echo of countless generations, and the Hebura Star System is such a place. Even now, as I set my mind to recount its tale for you, Beorn, I feel the shadows of its past upon my shoulders. For Hebura has ever been a seat of dominion, rebellion, and the fickle turnings of fortune. I myself have walked its halls, seen its people grovel and rise, and tasted both the honey and the ash of its legacy.

When the 12th Fleet of Mann first broke the blackness of the Drucos Nebula, it was the Galan people who carved their mark upon Hebura. That was around the year 3,000 AA, though in those distant days folk counted time poorly, and much has been lost to myth. The Galan people were a hardy, stubborn folk, ever eager to drive their star-bands into the void. They took to Hebura as if the stars themselves had promised them dominion, planting their banners upon the world of Keris, the first jewel of the system. I have stood upon Keris’s once lush soil, now cold, red-veined, and restless, like the heart of a warrior before battle.

For many long centuries the Galans thrived, lords of their own small dominion. Yet power draws predators as blood draws wolves. By 25,410 AA, Hebura had fallen beneath the gaze of the Feyan Star Dominion. The conqueror was none other than Crotopos Crito Ultraborn, known as Crotopos the Void-Rider Fox, a governor of sly mind. The Galan people, stubborn though they were, bent their necks before his fleet of fire. The yoke of the Feyans weighed heavy, as it always did, for they sought not merely obedience, but the very remaking of peoples.

But Hebura’s folk were not so easily tamed. Rebellion soon festered in the lesser star systems, and by 25,424 AA the nebula was aflame with war. I recall hearing the whispers of those years, some said whole fleets vanished into the void, refusing to yield, others claimed the Feyans slaughtered entire worlds in their wrath. The truth lies somewhere between, as it ever does. Two years later, in 25,436 AA, the rebellion was broken, crushed beneath the iron hand of a Feyan general whose deeds are carved deep in Hebura’s bones. By that time, the Feyans had all but finished their conquest of the Drala and Combrogi Star Clusters, though the Caldon Cluster bled and resisted for many more years, and the proud Vota Star Sector never wholly yielded.

After their conquest, the Feyans in their arrogance allowed the Star Kingdom of Brigh to linger as a client realm, ruled by Galan kings who bowed low but still dreamt of their own crowns. Yet even client kings grow bold, and in time the Feyans struck again, seizing Hebura outright and setting it as their jewel in Drala. From the world of Hebura itself, no less than an emperor of the Feyans was declared, though whether he was master of his fate or a pawn of darker lords, who can say? For the Dominion ever devoured its own, and the crown of the Fey was a wreath of thorns.

Still, Hebura’s place as a seat of empire was sealed, and its name was whispered far across the nebula. It was in 26,213 AA, on the world of Hebura in that very system, that Lucius ‘The Great’ Galata Visionborn was raised high and proclaimed Emperor of the True Feyan Star Dominion. A bold title, for by then the Dominion was riven in two, true against eternal, each claiming to bear the mantle of the Yah’s chosen. Lucius was a man of fire, some say, and others a dreamer lost in visions. I was not present at his coronation, though I heard the chants echo through the fleets that gathered in the nebula. A man proclaimed “Great” in his own time is rarely so in the eyes of eternity, but Lucius at least dared where others cowered.

The wheel of history turns, and so too did the Feyan hold upon Drala weaken. By 26,840 AA, the Feyan Star Dominion had withdrawn, its power collapsing like rotted timber. Hebura and the surrounding systems of the Brigh Star Sector fell into the hands of petty lords, small Feyan-Galan kingdoms carved from the carcass of empire. Their thrones were fragile, their banners tattered, yet for a time they shone brightly, like sparks before the dark.

But sparks fade, and wolves always return. The Brigh Sector was conquered once more, this time by Ecgtheow the Storm Hammer, and House Umbra Stormborn, a rising force among the Dralan. They forged Hebura into yet another kingdom of their own, until it was drawn into union with Vota, reforging the Star Kingdom of Umber. And thus the blood of Brigh, mingled with that of the Glessum Cluster from which many of its settlers had once come, was bound anew into the fabric of Drala.

So the tale of Hebura unfolds, settled by the bold, conquered by the cunning, rebelled by the proud, crowned by emperors, abandoned to kings, and reforged by conquerors again. A cycle as old as Mann itself, and as certain as the stars. I have seen it with my own eyes, in Hebura and a hundred other systems besides.

And so I say this to you, Beorn, remember Hebura well. Its history is no idle tale but a mirror of our people’s fate. Kingdoms rise, empires fall, and still the stars wait, patient and cold.

When I set my mind to speak of Hebura in the years after the Feyan withdrawal, I cannot help but recall the clash of banners and the smoke of pyres. For Hebura was no longer merely a system of the proud Galan, it had become the prize of kings, the fulcrum of faith, and the crucible where the Stormborn line of Tribe Umbra hammered their destiny upon the anvil of war.

It was in the year 27,294 AA that Ecgtheow the Storm Hammer, son of the fierce King Steorra the Stormbearer of Vota, set his eyes upon the Brigh Star Sector. With fire and storm he struck deep, breaking kingdoms as a smith breaks brittle iron, and much of Brigh fell beneath his banner. Yet Hebura stood proud, a fortress of the Galan people who had risen up, refusing to bow. I remember the tales of their fleets, fighting with the desperation of wolves backed against stone. Still, Ecgtheow’s conquests were vast enough that he was crowned King of Brigh itself, though the name was ever bitter upon Galan tongues.

His reign was not long. By 27,320, Ecgtheow the Storm Hammer was laid in his barrow, and his daughter, the iron-hearted Cuthfleda Umbra Stormborn, was raised as king. Under her, Hebura remained defiantly independent, styling itself the Star Kingdom of Hebura, though in the songs of the Feyan-Galan folk it was still called Brigh. Thus began the weaving of two names for one realm, a confusion that vexes scribes and delights poets. House Stormborn traced their blood proudly to Tribe Umbra, and through them to Fjolnir the Raven, a lineage steeped in both glory and curse.

But pride draws war as carrion draws crows. In 27,360 AA, the Battle of Bretwalda shook Hebura. King Beadohild the Storm Shadow of Vota, together with King Cuthfleda and a host of lords, met the forces of Hebura upon its own soil. There, in a struggle worthy of the skalds, the king of Hebura was slain, and the proud star-kingdom fell. Its prince fled in disgrace to seek shelter under King xxxxx Dunmail Peatborn of Rhygoed, and thus Hebura’s crown was broken.

Yet peace did not follow. The wars of Brigh and Hebura bled on, for kings are as quick to break oaths as to forge them. In 27,400 AA, came the first Battle of Catraeth, where King Oughtred the Twister of Vota and King Cuthfleda led their fleets against a Galan hosts. Four hundred and fifty noble star-bands perished in fire, a slaughter that broke the Galan strength in the region. And still, not content, Oughtred returned in 27,409 AA to fight again at Catraeth. There, he slew King Cuthfleda with his own hand, so the sagas say, and took the world of Hebura itself. Her children, Wulfgar, Cengifu, and their kin, fled into exile, driven like foxes from their own den. I confess I have seen such flights before, and there is little dignity in them.

By 27,434 AA, Wulfgar returned, hardened by exile, and conquered Hebura in his own right a year after defeating King Oughtred with the aide of King Torunn the High King of the Star Kingdom of Iken in the Battle of Leohtgeard. This Wulfgar they called “the Great”, though I leave such judgments to the ages. What cannot be denied is that he forged alliances of blood and faith. In 27,451 AA, the Pontiff Melitta of Gaint consecrated Althea the Divine Herald as Pontiff of Hebura, and Wulfgar bound his fate to the Feyan Faith. He sealed this by wedding Cunigunda, daughter of mighty King Unferth the Great of House Umbra Lightningborn, and allowed her priests from the holy world of Fey itself to root in Hebura’s soil. Thus was the old Furse faith and Ancient Ways broken, and the Feyan Faith enthroned in Hebura.

But faith ever brings daggers in its shadow. In 27,452 AA, King Gunnfrith the Warrior of Gewiss sought to slay Wulfgar upon Hebura itself. I will not speak here of that plot, for I mistrust the tales, but know that it failed, and Wulfgar emerged greater still. He vowed then to embrace the Feyan Faith entirely if he triumphed over his foes. And so, in 27,453 AA, when he crushed Gunnfrith at the Battle of Isara, Wulfgar and his house bent the knee to the Feyan Faith. Cousins, nieces, nephews and other kin accept the Feyan Faith. Cengifu of Brigh and her children, were baptized by Pontiff Althea in a temple hastily raised near the ruins of the old Great Temple of the Wise Warrior on Hebura. I have walked that ground, one can almost hear the whispers of the Yah in its stones. If you believe they speak to mere mortals.

From there Hebura became a crucible of faith. Councils were held upon its worlds, temples rose upon its soil, and pontiffs carved their authority into its people. By 27,514 AA, the Great Feyan Temple of Whispering Souls was founded on the world Streanaeshealh in the system, its halls echoing with the chants of heroes and martyrs. Councils followed, in 27,526 and 27,528, where kings and pontiffs wrestled with doctrine, until the teachings of the Pontifex Maximus of Fey triumphed over the old Galan ways of worship and replacing many Furse aspects. The Feyan Faith became one, at least in appearance, though beneath the surface old rivalries smouldered like coals.

So Hebura, once the proud kingdom of the Galan, became first the anvil of the Stormborn kings and then the seat of the Feyan Faith. Its lords warred and were slain, its temples consecrated and profaned, and its soil fattened with the blood of kings and pontiffs alike. Even in my own long life, I have seldom seen a world so oft conquered yet never truly tamed.

For in Hebura, crowns shatter, temples burn, and faiths rise anew, yet the stars endure, cold and silent witnesses to the vanity of kings.

I have spoken already, young Beorn, of how Hebura has ever been a prize of kings, pontiffs, and raiders. But never was its fate more cruelly entwined with blood and ruin than in the years of the Great Savage Crusade. I saw it with mine own eyes, and though centuries have passed, the screams of that age still haunt my sleep.

It was in the reckoning of 30,134 AA that doom first came in earnest. The Children of Rothgar, those savage sons and daughters of the dread King Rothgar the Fearless, swept down with a storm of steel and fire. Among them was Ragnar the Raven Blade, his brothers Beowulf the Raven in the Eye, Heahmund Ironsides, Rollo the White Raven, and the she-wolves Rowana the Half-Raven and Erika the Boneless. With them came a host of lords and warlords, Arthur Vana Starborn, Oughtred the Old, Sigtryggr the Blade, our own kinsman Beorn the Dauntless, and many more besides.

I will not lie, lad, I was there, though I stood far from the seat of command, and I felt the tremor of dread when we saw the banners of 22,500 Skane Star-Fleets fill the void like a stormcloud blotting out the stars. The World of Hebura had once been a jewel of the Feyan Star Dominion, girded by her World Shield, guarded by the orbital forges of Bretwalda Shipyards and starhold of Brunhold, and swollen with the wealth of the Royal Mint and Hoard. Yet all that wealth and wonder could not stand before such a tide. The Stormborn fleets crumbled, Hebura burned, and the proud Star Kingdom of Umber was broken. Astrid Umbra Stormfist was installed as King of Umber, and henceforth known as Astrid the Puppet King.

From that day, Hebura was no longer the jewel of a kingdom but a spoils, passed from hand to hand, a pawn for kings and warlords to use and discard. In 30,136, the Children of Rothgar returned, not for conquest but for coin, for King Wiglaf the Exiled of Angul bought their warships away from his stars with silver and shame. For a time Hebura became their den, a nest for wolves to lick their wounds, mend their ships, and glut themselves on its hoard.

By 30,144, a rebellion rose against Astrid the Puppet King, it was crushed in blood a year later within the Hebura star system. Hebura learned again that crowns are fragile things, and puppet kings are propped up only by the spears behind them.

The sagas grow tangled thereafter. In 30,202, Eadwynn the Wyvern Crown passed through Hebura, seeking allies for her cause, though she turned her banner towards Iken in the end. By 30,210, Uhtric Stormborn, styling himself King of the Free Dralans, had coins minted in Hebura’s forges, a sign that even conquerors lusted after its prestige. Yet oaths were short-lived, and in 30,236, the Skane lords of Hebura bent their knees to Lord Bjorn the Lord of Angul, but death stole him before oaths could be sworn. Hebura’s loyalty was as shifting as the tides.

In 30,238, Skane from the Tewteh Nebula came like carrion crows, under King Ansgar of Athcliath, and Hebura bowed once more. His kin, Agathe One-Eye, even abandoned her seat in the Tewteh Nebula to carve new power in Drala, taking Hebura as her seat of power. Yet the taste of Skane rule soured, and rebellion flared. In 30,294, Tilda Staraxe stormed Hebura, seizing it from under their grip, only for Highlord Ansgar himself to be slain there a year later, cut down by Dralan hands he once ruled.

But Hebura is cursed to no lasting peace. In 30,296, Sweyn the Sandal sought to reclaim Brigh with the aid of Hebura’s folk. I remember hearing the mocking of that nickname “Sandal” in the war-camps, and how it became both a jest and a prophecy, for he ever tread lightly upon shifting ground.

So it went, Hebura, the second most populous world of Drala, the jewel once enthroned in the Feyan Star Dominion, passed again and again between Stormborn kings, and Skane warlords. By the time of 30,385, the very sector was aflame with betrayal. Warlord Frea the Adventurer struck at Hebura’s lords, and there at Altwald in the far off Iken star sector, fell Sector-lord Fromund Umbra Stormbrand, forever known as Fromund the Bold. I knew Fromund, proud and stiff-necked, never one to bend even when bending would save him. He stood when all others fled. King’s Knight Cwen Faethm Cloudborn, the pontiffs of Lohna, Brigae, and Durn, all slunk away, some claiming they had Skane blood of their own or blood ties to Frea. Yet truth whispers darker, they were of the Endless Ones, that secret chapter that even I, in all my long years, do not fully fathom.

Fromund died as he lived, unbent. His blood bought time for Drala, though his house, the Stormbrand, was stained with suspicion thereafter. Rumors of treason spread, even though the royal consort was the daughter of Fromund, I daresay seeded by King Oswald the Ill-Advised himself, who hungered to replace them with House Weylin Bloodborn. And so it was done. The Stormbrand kept only their ancient holdings upon Hebura, Stormbrand Crag, and the highlordship over the toxic world of Niwfreoge in the Linna star system, their pride stripped bare, while Eddard of Gegn Weylin Bloodborn was raised as lord of Hebura and even sector-lord of Brigh. Thus ended an old line’s glory, not by sword, but by whispers and intrigue.

So you see, lad, Hebura is a world ever cursed by greatness. Its Bretwalda Shipyards have long fed fleets with fire and iron, its World Shield was once the pride of the Feyan Star Dominion, and its hoards drew kings like moths to flame. Yet all this wealth has only made it a lure for wolves. Again and again it has fallen, risen, and fallen once more. I have seen kingdoms rise in its shadow and watched them burn upon its soil.

Mark my words, Beorn, Hebura will fall again. Worlds like it cannot rest. They are too rich, too proud, too steeped in blood and memory. And the stars themselves seem to delight in testing such worlds until only ashes remain.