Once simply called “The Blood of Grian”, Gaofenwyn has seen much change in her ancient history. Although she hasn’t the blessing of calling herself the first of her kind, she is one of them. Long ago, she quarrelled with her brothers and sisters for control of all land. They fought in bloody battles, waged gruesome wars, and rarely ever saw rest. Now, she lies dormant, her scars and wounds invisible beneath her ever-changing flesh. Each day, she watches her children born and die and live her lives. Her brothers and sisters do the same.

Evadia is most likely Gaofenwyn’s eldest brother. She cannot know for sure. So many eons have passed that their ages are irrelevant. Solemn and wise Evadia is, for he ponders and thinks in whatever time he has. Peace and wisdom are his specialties, for he has learned to love these things as he rests, forever by the seas. Times of peace are like the waters, as is knowledge. These two things may come and go and change and even seem disappear as time goes on, they may rise with the tides or fall in drought. But wherever they may be, they will always return. Eons have passed since Gaofenwyn last saw her stoic brother take up arms, but when he did, he was a force to be reckoned with. Evadia once was a great warrior who used his knowledge to build machines of war and tools for espionage. She does worry for him, now that he is old and frail. He who lives by the sword will die by it.

Agamalia is Gaofenwyn’s beloved twin sister. Artistic, warm, and always full of energy she is, and not a day goes by that Gaofenwyn does not weep in longing for her sister’s warmth. Sometimes, Agamalia basks by the seas, letting the waves lap at her feet and letting the wind caress her body. Other days, Agamalia rests upon green hilltops and vast valleys, watching her sons and daughters harvest their crops and beasts. Perhaps her favorite place of all, however, is perched atop rocky alps with not another soul in sight. There, she is free as the wind itself, as bird calls echo and the rustling of the breeze is the only sound for miles. In the metropolitans of her trading hubs, Agamalia’s children scurry to and fro, greeting foreigners, feasting on rich foods, observing art or just enjoying the daily pleasures of life. Agamalia could not be happier at this time, but soon she will be unrecognizable.

Darudina is perhaps Gaofenwyn’s most warlike brother. He is the largest of the five, and possibly the strongest as well. Darudina may not have the brains, but he can achieve whatever he wants with brute force. Slain and destroyed rests Gaofenwyn’s distant Eastern sister, for her legacy and many others was lost to Darudina’s blade. Roaring rivers and jagged mountains rip through Darudina’s body, like veins of gold in quartz. The rest is plains or taiga, the grasslands as desolate as Darudina’s heart and the forests as dark as his soul. If he wanted, Darudina could be bathing in money- his lands are home to swaths of precious metals and jewels, as well as rare creatures, great and small. He could sell these pelts and resources, and yet he chooses to conquer his neighbors. Gaofenwyn cries out for every soul whose voice was silenced, whose children were killed, and whose lands were invaded by Darudina’s hand. Perhaps Gaofenwyn’s most ruthless sibling will one day come around. After all, there’s good in everyone.

The Nordlands are Gaofenwyn’s most hated brother. Gaofenwyn can forgive Darudina for his greed, after all, greed is simply the want for a better life. Some of the greatest inventions have come from what is called ‘greed’. But Gaofenwyn could never forgive her deceiving brother, the father of her enslavers. The Nordlands built his wealth off trade and exchange. He sailed to distant nations and sold the furs of his beasts. He gave lumber to the plains dweller and thatch to the men of the forests. Covered in mountains, grasses, forests, lakes, fjords, ice, and snow, Gaofenwyn’s northern brother had it all and he wasn’t afraid to share. He convinced his neighbors to trust him, to put their confidence in his wealth and power. But something Gaofenwyn could never tolerate was his lust for treasure. Unlike The Nordlands, Darudina was simply too stupid to trade, and therefore conquered. Gaofenwyn’s northern brother, however, was rich as can be. He should have no trouble clearing his forests or negotiating with his brothers and sisters. But no. Instead, The Nordlands let the thrill of conquest overtake his charismatic and negotiable nature. He raided relentlessly, stealing whatever he could and demanding whatever he wanted. And his brothers and sisters had no choice but to comply. Gaofenwyn herself lost much of her land to her brother, the youngest of all and the most reckless. She will never forgive The Nordlands. Or so she thinks.

Now of course, Gaofenwyn herself was different from her brothers and sisters, as were they to one another. Cloaked forever in a blanket of gray, Grian almost never looked upon his children during the dark half of the year. During the light, Grian smiled broadly and yet the rains still fell. Gaofenwyn was graced by a curvaceous and fertile body, trees of all colors, shapes, and sizes dotting the landscape with a healthy mix of lowland, hills, and mountains. What her siblings thought of her, she does not know. They likely see her to be an isolated kind of woman, avoidant and perhaps even shy. She is situated in the midst of an ocean, yet still within reach of her brothers and sisters. Gaofenwyn possesses a generally positive outlook, for she always opens her doors to the needy and is willing to provide whatever she can for her siblings of choice. In spite of her own father turning his back on her half the year, Gaofenwyn and her children go about their lives as best they can. Character is what you do when no one’s looking. But perhaps, someone is indeed lurking around that corner…

Gaofenwyn had not seen a threat in many, many years. She’d lost count. Her siblings were at peace, even The Nordlands had calmed his love for conquest. But a new threat was on the horizon- a son of Grian who not Gaofenwyn, nor her brothers or sisters, knew of in the slightest. This son was called Hessan, and his children were the most ruthless conquerors of all. For they did not conquer by the sword, but instead, by the tongue. Perhaps it is for the better. Perhaps now, the children of all nations may sound a call to action. Perhaps, just in the smallest sliver of hope, a light of realization might shine. Gaofenwyn may not speak the same tongue as her siblings, nor look the same or believe as they do. But the five can agree on one thing: The children of Hessan are a greater threat than any sibling rivalry.