The Yoral

The Yoral are a people apart, a branch of humanity that seems to have been sculpted by a different hand. They are characterized by a striking and ethereal grace; tall and slender with elegantly fine features and an inherent poise that can make the most disciplined soldiers of other nations appear clumsy. Their eyes, often in shades of pale silver, green, or violet, hold a depth that speaks of their most defining trait: a lifespan that stretches for centuries. A Yoral adult who appears to be in their prime may have already witnessed the rise and fall of entire kingdoms. This longevity shapes every facet of their being, from their patient, deliberate mannerisms to their long, sorrowful memories.

Most scholars suspect the Yoral to be a product of a god’s tampering with humanity, while others think of them as refugees from a different plane of existence; these are all just theories, though, as no deity has come forward and claimed the Yoral as their children, and the Yoral themselves never speak of their history with outsiders. This doesn’t stop many cultures around the world from seeing them as children of the gods, considering their blessed existences.

Their extended lifespan (as well as their vicious xenophobia) is the very root of their deep-seated isolationism. The Yoral view the frantic, short-lived passions and conflicts of other humans as a chaotic storm from which they must shelter. Their culture, built upon centuries of unbroken tradition and slow, meticulous artistry, is considered sacred and fragile. To them, mixing with the outside world is not just undesirable; it is a contamination that would erode their identity. The law of Yoralthen is absolute: contact with foreigners is strictly regulated, and creating a life with an outsider is the highest transgression, punishable by permanent exile. Their society is insular, valuing purity and continuity above all else, seeing the fleeting ambitions of others as a folly they long ago outgrew.

The vast majority of the Yoral reside within the borders of Yoralthen, a kingdom hidden from the rest of Iskandria. Shielded by impassable, mist-shrouded mountain ranges to the east and the turbulent currents of the western seas, the land is a secret of geography as much as of policy. Foreign maps often leave the region blank or filled with speculative drawings of monsters, as any expedition that attempts to breach its borders is turned away by unseen patrols or simply vanishes into the disorienting, ancient forests that serve as its first line of defense. Within this sanctuary, the Yoral have built cities of silent, soaring towers that blend seamlessly with the pristine, wild landscape, living in a harmony with nature that other cultures can only dream of.

The only point of contact with the outside world is the portuary city of Asambrila, situated in the kingdom’s northern shores. Here, the few ambitious foreign traders that are allowed passage through the city’s defenses, are closely watched as they make their deals. Those who have visited the place speak of a grandiose city, carefully carved in wood and stone, its streets mostly vacant of Yoral, as if the whole city was built with the sole purpose of dealing with foreigners and housing their emissaries. The stories brought by sailors and merchants to the outside world are essentially the only source of information about Yoralian society, because the few Yoral exiles categorically refuse to speak about their once homeland. The fate of these exiles, cast out for breaking the ultimate taboo, also feeds the nation’s legends. These lone individuals, and the even rarer stories of their half-blood children, are tragic figures, belonging to neither world and serving as vivid examples of the unyielding law that governs the hidden kingdom of Yoralthen.