The tiny island kingdom of Unglandan is the home of the humans of the Britanan Empire and is located in the north west of Relicia. It is the cornerstone of King Jorjes Empire and is surrounded on all sides by the restless, untameable oceans which have provided the humans with an effective barrier of protection from outsiders for many hundreds of years. It is impossible to navigate the tempestuous waves that batter the coasts of the north, the west and the east and as such there has been very little outside influence on the humans since the Gods abandoned Relicia so long ago.
The sea to the south is much calmer and there are a few select currents there that have proven to be safe time and time again and the neighbouring regions of both Eard and Encartria have always been easily accessible to the marauding humans of Britana.
The Gods were first drawn to the island due to the strong resonance of Maaj that still to this day radiates from the southern region of Britana and the seemingly idyllic untouched landscape of old was like a blank canvass which the Gods were able to paint their own unique visions upon.
The Unglandan utopia of old is mostly unrecognisable today and the growth of the human empire has altered the natural state of the landscape forever. At the peak of their civilisation, the humans densely covered all of Britana and millions of town houses and work factories were constructed across the land to accommodate the swelling population. The constructions commissioned by the Kings of old were not limited to just simple homes though and many other wondrous buildings were erected during this time as Unglandan rapidly grew and became heavily industrialised.
One of the most impressive architectures still standing today is the Palace of Britana, the current residence of King Jorje. It was built upon the highest point in the land by the great King Rodrik and although the wars of the past have left it in a terrible state of disrepair, it is still operated today, as any palace worthy of a King should be. Even though there are only limited resources available and the strength of the empire has massively decreased over the years, King Jorje is unwilling to sacrifice even the most simplest of pleasures. Many of the surviving humans are responsible for the day to day running of the palace and are at the absolute mercy of Jorje and his fanciful whims.
Those lucky enough to escape his personal attentions will usually find themselves fulfilling roles available within the Britanan military, the most privileged of these positions being the rank of the Loom Master and his apprentices. The loom houses are of vital importance to the empire and were constructed during the aftermath of the Great Collapse, they churn out hundreds of puppet soldiers every day and they are granted the most powerful protections and wards by the higher-ranking sorcerers and officers of the Royal Academy.
Despite all of this, Unglandan is a damned forsaken place and is a pale shadow of the glorious society that it once used to be. The damage caused by the Vaettir has scorched the landscape and the sickly Maaj has collected and festered in pockets of energy akin to pus in a wound. These dark pockets of energy linger and fester until their poison eventually seeps out into the land, corrupting all that it touches and rotting the fragile framework of the crumbling empire ever more.
Many of you will be surprised to learn that during my travels and observations of Relicia and its people, my short time spent with the Empire of Britana was not the pleasant experience I had initially imagined it would be. In fact, there was an incredibly unnerving and somewhat terrifying atmosphere that lingered in the air of Unglandan and I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to return to the region anytime soon. Infiltrating the Britanans was relatively easy, although my options for disguise were incredibly limited. It was clear from the outset that my height would not allow me to pass comfortably as a Trooper or a Grenadier and for a while I toyed with the idea of passing myself off as a Dragoon. That idea may have worked quite well actually but after much deliberation I decided that it would be far too uncomfortable for me to stay in the crouched position for any length of time. In the end I opted for the most obvious disguise available and hid myself amongst the hordes as a lowly Puppeteer in the service of his majesty King Jorje.
In hindsight it was not the most suitable position for me to be in and the rank of Puppeteer was far too high profile for my purposes. I was despised by my superiors and mocked by the lower ranks. Still it was an experience to remember and one that I feel lucky to have survived. At one point during my adventures I was sure I had been rumbled by the Arcanum Guard and I braced myself for death, convinced that the Company Sergeant Major would order my death by firing squad at any moment. As luck would have it, the revealing moment that would have sealed my doom was quickly overshadowed by a mass brawl that had begun with some heated exchanges between two rival Highlander regiments and I managed to make my escape as the chaos unfolded.