Led by Elusedrod the Deathly, the Dornayar are the most learned of the Satrapies. Thinkers and philosophers all, they’re devoted to studying history and scrying the past for prophecy. Although slow to anger, once they have been roused to wrath, the Dornayar descend upon their foes with all the crushing finality of an avalanche.
While any army can join any Coalition for any reason, the Dornayar favor allies who know the value of patience, who are willing to know their enemy as they know themselves, and when the time is right, will strike without hesitation or remorse.
Satrapy of Serenity
The Dornayar believe those who control the past control the future. More than even the Teclandec, it is they who have preserved the most from before the Spirefall in the form of histories, documents and artifacts. Their scholars – and all Dornayar can claim that title to some degree – have spent centuries solemnly poring over every detail of these records, reconstructing the past with painstaking precision so as to better learn from it. If knowledge is power, then the Dornayar intend to become omnipotent.
The Dornayar have learned to take full advantage of their people’s long lives. To act in haste or speak without consideration is foolish. Deliberate to a fault, their conviction is equally absolute; within the Ceraphate, the phrase “an apology from a Dornayar” is used in much the same way as “to get blood from a stone”. Although they maintain no standing army, when the Satrapy is forced to defend its interests, they unleash the terrifying Watchers: a reclusive sect of shrouded warriors. Folklore claims they’re anchored neither by time nor space or even life and death. And they are not employed solely for defense: many hunt the secrets their fellow Satrapies keep, and soon the Dornayar will move to claim them all.
Satrap Elusedrod the Deathly
Ham-Galad, the Throne of Light, is one of the few artifacts in the Prime Dominion dating from before the Spriefall. It is literally carved from a beam of Hysh’s radiance by arts none still possess and few can claim to understand. It was crafted in the last mad rush of lofty creation that presaged the realm’s descent into madness, and borne to the Dominion on the backs of refugees, a final monument to their former glory. For the past five centuries it has served as Elusedrod’s seat of power, the place from whence he rules and from which he hardly stirs.
And why should he? The awful might of the Throne has given him arcane power on par with the Slann and within reach of gods themselves. He can see through the eyes- and there are many- of his trusted agents, the Watchers. With a thought he can summon all the enlightenment of his people against his enemies, and with another he can strike down his foes with the brilliant energies of Haixiah itself. As he’s grown into the Throne- and the Throne into him- his body has withered, becoming impossibly gaunt. His eyes barely open and his lips are silent, for whom is there for him to see or speak with beyond his silent sentinels keeping their eternal vigil?
Some outside the Dornayar would call Elusedrod weak, and mistake inaction for incapacity – a mistake, to be sure, and a dangerous one. For while he is still and silent, Elusedrod observes, listens, and learns. He plots and conspires, weaving webs with which to snare his foes, and when all has turned to dust and ash, he will remain. Until then, he watches, and waits.
Equerry Tetar-Munteq, Skink Starseer
Those near inhospitable lands not claimed by the Celandec belong to the Dornayar, and here play host to a newborn temple city of Coalesced. Starseer Tetar-Munteq serves as this nascent civilization’s guiding light, shepherding her people through the complexities of the Ceraphate’s politics. Where the Dornayar study the past, Tetar’s kin scrys the heavens, interpreting the celestial omens revealed to her. In this way, her people provide a valuable counterpoint to the work of their warm-blooded neighbors.