|The Corsairs of the Nawfal|
|Government type||Democratic Republic|
|Flag||The Flag of Harad|
|Claimed Lands||The Bay of Belfalas, Tofalas|
|Map of Lands||None|
|Used NPCs||In war, Gondorians and Swan Knights|
In the Bay of Belfalas there exists a faction. Not a faction of lore, only a band of traders who wish to one day ride the high seas again.
The Story of the Lord of the Seas
As the sun rose over the Westmark, the Rohirrim stirred and the birds chirped. It was to be another casual day in the Mark. For everyone, except one Master_Treebeard, Elizaer's squire and man-at-arms. He was to take a different road. Up to this point, the life of Master_Treebeard had been brief. He had only occasional conversations to negotiate deals. Other then that he was a hermit of sorts, his goal to wander the globe drove him on. He had everything he needed. A home, some food, 2 comrades and of course a bit of mithril, but on that fateful day, something just didn't feel right. He questioned his existence and went to his homeland for answers. He spent 3 days in the woods of Fangorn listening to the knowledge of the ents and gathering plants to make draughts from which he summoned the trees themselves. Upon the night of the 3rd day, he realized that he was simply bored of the Rohirric hierarchy and the constant quarrels between brethren. When this dawned on him he made a plan. To leave the Mark and finish his quest of exploration somewhere no horse could bother him. Actually, where no one could bother him at all. Remembering an island he came across a long time ago, Master_Treebeard made his way to the Bay of Belfalas to build a fortress from which he built an empire. And so, the island of Firyal was named and the Corsairs of the Nawfal forged. The Lord of the Seas then layed the founding stone of Sufyan-Na'man-Nawfal which will one day be the greatest city in the world.
One day the Lord of the Seas got a message from his most faithful and kind hearted friend, "there has been a reset." He stopped breathing. All he had built. Gone. Simply because he hadn't been there to tell them not to delete his empire. His fortress. His home. One moment of solace consoled him. "I saved Yemen." The last message he received from his friend. He, to this day, refuses to return and accept the truth, so as such, with no true capital and no true leader, the Corsairs fade. Like so many others. He may return. But he'll never be the same. The darkness has taken him.
The Corsairs were one of the hidden factions. On a small island in the Bay of Belfalas called Firyal lied the key to the hidden city of Sufyan-Na'man-Nawfal. Until the reset. When everything died.
Yemen stands. Let it stand. It exists as a hidden alcove for anyone who wishes to begin anew. Let their path be lit with many candles. Find it in a valley near Tharbad.
Let it be known!
The light may have faded, but the life lives on. Be kind to each other. Be fair in your trades. And never give up. Anyone who takes this credo, is a true Corsair of the Nawfal. May your lives be long and prosperous.