When the disparate peoples of the realm stood on the brink of extinction at the hands of the Nosvartus (and each other), their leaders met upon the shores of the Zaleeshee to hammer out a code of survival. To bind the agreement, each faction laid bare a permanent piece of their lineage. These sacred sacrifices were sealed together within a hidden cave beneath the scoured granite foundations of Minato’s Watch, guarded as an eternal testament to balance.

But with the recent theft of the Mother’s Tear gemstone by a rogue outlander witch, the ancient protections are failing. The borders are bleeding. To understand the dark storm gathering in the upcoming chapters of Bad Moon, you must first understand the factions who once swore to hold back the dark.

Geopolitics of the Covenant: The Three Regional Subsets

1. The Coastal People

Sovereigns of the sea-spray, the grey canals, and the channels of commerce. These factions control the primary lifelines of travel, regional distribution, and resource extraction across the vast, internal waters of the Zaleeshee.

• The Salsh: The quiet, maritime sovereigns of the deep open waters. Under the terms of the original treaty, they hold absolute dominion over their coastal waters, dedicated eternally to honoring and protecting the migratory paths of the orcas and the great whales.
  
• The Cres Tribe: The primary power of the coastline and deep forests. In exchange for guaranteeing safe, unhindered passage through their lowland forests and sweeping meadows, the Pact secured the Cres exclusive, unimpeded navigation across the treacherous currents of the Zaleeshee. They are a proud, resilient people, easily recognized by the distinctive striped tattoos of childhood passage that adorn their sun-kissed bronze cheeks.
  
• Kla-um: The permanent, timber-hewn heart of the Cres tribe. Sunk deep into the rocky soil of a protected bay, this village wraps its arms around a compact harbor where fishing fleets seek refuge and hide drums pound rhythmically through the midnight mist.
  
• Galago Village: A crucial trading waypoint tucked into a lush, vibrant valley cradle. Flanked by terraced fields and fruit orchards, the travelers camp outside this rustic settlement operates under the iron-clad authority of Kap-Monger, a muscled leader with a perfectly sculpted jet-black beard and a legendary, cutting glare. Galago serves as the primary trading hub for wilderness lumber, fresh crops, and caravan trade from the wilds.
  
• Crescent Town: A magnificent, half-timbered canal-city built on stone and timber in the shadow of imposing, snow-capped southern peaks and alongside the deep blue Lake Crescent. Its slate rooftops gleam with silver-blue dew while arched stone bridges vault over runnels of flowing gray water. It is a crowded, paranoid melting pot where blue-striped tribesmen trade alongside unmarked outlanders, and where political unrest brews beneath the surface.

2. The Mountain Folk

Sovereigns of the broken ridges and unforgiving granite ramparts, these vertical societies claim the lonely cold of the stark highlands where the frost never thaws.

• The Hurricane Tribe: Masters of the rugged heights. They claimed dominion over the steep mountain peaks and river valleys, maintaining a visceral connection to the earth and sky. They provide the lowlands with metal weapons, crafted goods, and rare medicinal herbs.
  
• The Bunmanshin Shamans: The deep-mountain sasquatch ascetics of the frozen peaks. Covered in thick fur, these mystics insisted upon the absolute sanctity of their mountain temples. They remain detached from lowland conflicts, guarding their ancient secrets behind a wall of perpetual mountain mist.

3. The Cursed & Wild-Born Factions

Those whose bloodlines, environments, or intrinsic natures have been permanently altered or infected by the primal, supernatural undercurrents of the realm.

• The Louoto Wolf People: The apex pack-hunters of the deep woods. The Pact explicitly guarantees that their expansive forests remain completely untouched by the logging axes of townsfolk, preserving a wild haven for their packs to roam. In return, they bring the premium bounty of their wild tracking to the seasonal markets, not to mention their highly respected rationality during parlay.
  
• The Nosvartus (The “Little Eyes”): A living testament to the decay of civilization. Eons ago, they were rational, human-like beings who sat at the covenant table to secure deep caves and shadowed valleys. Over centuries, they have succumbed to a grotesque, creeping vampiric curse, transforming into streamlined, oily-skinned monsters with rows of needle-sharp teeth who use horrifyingly perfect vocal mimicry to lure prey into the claustrophobic dark.
  
• The Bunmanshin (Occult Adjacency): While physically occupying the mountain peaks, the shamans are spiritually tied to the supernatural forces of the realm. Their direct manipulation of ancient relics, prophetic Trion card readings, and rune-carved warding monoliths positions them as a bridge between the physical geography of the world and the eldritch forces twisting beneath it.

The Ledger of Sealed Sacrifices

To bind the covenant beneath the feet of Minato’s Watch, each sovereign party surrendered a literal or symbolic piece of their identity to ensure collective compliance:

• The Cres Tribe: Offered a lock of hair from their wisest elder to represent the shared vision of the coastal lines.
  
• The Hurricane Tribe: Surrendered a feather from their swiftest falcon to anchor their presence in the sky.
  
• The Louoto Wolf People: Contributed a single, jagged fang from their fiercest warrior to seal the safety of the woods.
  
• The Bunmanshin Shamans: Given a polished gemstone from their holiest temple to connect the mountain spires to the earth.
  
• The Nosvartus: Offered a dark drop of blood from their most ancient ancestor, binding their eternal hunger to the laws of the realm.
  
• The Salsh: Legend holds that their explicit offering remains unrecorded in the ancient texts, whispered by tavern keepers to have been swallowed by the deep ocean tides centuries ago.

The age of treaties is dead. With the wards collapsing and the “Little Eyes” actively besieging the perimeter walls of remote outposts like Tog, the Cradle has reverted to its truest state: a landscape where only the resolute survive. Choose your allegiances carefully.