StormborneLore

Category: “Y Mers

  • The Bond Between Taranis and Boldolph.

    The Bond Between Taranis and Boldolph.

    The fire had long gone out, and the cold crept in like a snake through the underbrush. Taranis sat with his back to a stone outcrop, shivering in silence. His breath came in misted gasps, though he dared not build another fire. Fire drew eyes. And eyes mean death.

    He was only nine winters old skin and bones beneath a damp wolf-pelt, alone since exile. Alone… or so he believed.

    Until that night.

    A low growl rolled from the darkness.

    Taranis reached for his stick-spear crude, splintered, tipped with flint and rose to a crouch. The growl came again, closer. Deep. Measured. Not hunger. Not rage. Warning.

    The trees parted.

    A shadow, massive and black, emerged from the mist.

    The wolf.

    Not just any wolf this one had eyes like embered blood. A scar down his left side that caught the moonlight. He have snapped Taranis in two.

    But he didn’t.

    Instead, the wolf circled once, then lay down, his tail wrapping around his legs. He did not blink. He just watched.

    Taranis lowered his spear.

    “You’re not here to eat me,” he said, voice hoarse from days without speech.

    The wolf said nothing, but his ears twitched.

    Taranis crept closer, sat back down beside the dying fire pit. He wrapped the pelt tighter and leaned ahead.

    “I don’t know why they hate me,” he whispered.

    The wolf’s eyes did not move.

    “I saved my brother. I didn’t ask for the fire, or the storm. I just… did what I was told.”

    Still the wolf said nothing, but his breathing was calm, deliberate like he was listening.

    Taranis closed his eyes.

    In the morning, he woke to warmth. Not from a fire, but from the wolf curled around him, sheltering him from the frost.

    From that day onward, Boldolph never left his side.

    He didn’t need to speak. His presence was enough. His strength, a shield. His silence, a vow.

    Taranis never asked him why.

    But deep down, he knew.

    Boldolph had seen something in him not just a boy, not just a fire-starter. Something ancient. Something kin.

    And Taranis, though still just a child, reached out and rested a hand on the wolf’s thick fur.

    “Thank you,” he whispered.

    The wolf let him.

    Thank you for reading.© 2025 Emma Hewitt / StormborneLore. All rights reserved.Unauthorized copying or reproduction of this content is prohibited.

    If you enjoyed this story, like, share, or leave a comment. Your support keeps the storm alive and the chronicles continuing.

  • Honoring Stormborne Women: A Poetic Tribute

    Honoring Stormborne Women: A Poetic Tribute

    A Tribute to Stormborne Women!


    They wove the wind into cloaks and dreams.


    Spun flax with fire and softened seams.
    Mothers, warriors, whisperers, seers
    Their names echo across the years.

    In caves they sang to unborn stars,
    In fields they carved the fate of wars.
    With calloused hands and iron hearts,
    They held the world while it fell apart.

    They bore the weight of every dawn,
    Raised walls of stone when men were gone.


    Healed with roots, and led with grace
    Stormborne blood, in every place.

    Let no tale forget their worth,
    The quiet queens of ancient earth.
    For behind the sword and sky and lore,
    Were women holding open the door.

    let their songs and tales stay eternally.

    Thank you for reading.© 2025 Emma Hewitt / StormborneLore. All rights reserved.Unauthorized copying or reproduction of this content is prohibited.

    If you enjoyed this story, like, share, or leave a comment. Your support keeps the storm alive and the chronicles continuing.

  • The Unseen Cost of War: A Poetic Tribute

    The Unseen Cost of War: A Poetic Tribute

    An abstract illustration featuring concentric colorful patterns with a prominent ram's head at the center.
    A vibrant artistic representation featuring concentric circles and a stylized ram’s face at the center, surrounded by colorful patterns.


    (By a surviving Stormborne brother after the first great battle)

    Ash in their hair, fire in their breath,
    They stood as the sun wept low in the west.


    Brothers and sisters with storm in their veins, Fell to the ground, where silence remains.

    The drums were our hearts, the sky was our cry.

    We fought not for gold, but so others might try.

    Their names now lie carved in oak and in stone.


    But the warmth of their hands is forever gone.

    I held my blade, not proud but numb.


    As the wind carried whispers of those who’d succumbed.


    Each shadow a friend, each pool of red
    A story cut short, a word left unsaid.

    Now only three of us gather each night,
    Around the fire, beneath the stars’ light.
    We drink to the fallen.

    We bleed in the song.


    And carry their memory proud, fierce, and strong.

    Thank you for reading.© 2025 Emma Hewitt / StormborneLore. All rights reserved.Unauthorized copying or reproduction of this content is prohibited.

    If you enjoyed this story, like, share, or leave a comment. Your support keeps the storm alive and the chronicles continuing.

  • The Unsung Heroines of the Welsh Marches: A Historical Perspective

    The Unsung Heroines of the Welsh Marches: A Historical Perspective

    Drax’s Region , StormborneLore

    A colorful drawing depicting a bright blue sky with clouds and a sun, alongside a vibrant green landscape featuring a pond, flowers, and sheep.
    A vibrant child’s drawing depicting a pastoral scene with sheep, flowers, and a pond under a colorful sky.

    Historical Insight Series

    In the shadow of ancient hills and stone-crowned ridges, the Welsh Marches whisper stories long forgotten. Winds race across the Long Mynd.

    Caer Caradoc looms in silent watch. Yet somewhere beneath the earth, fragments of the lives. Once lived by Bronze Age women stay buried in urns, marked in pottery, etched in the soil itself.

    Though no names were written, no songs preserved their deeds in ink. These women shaped the land and its legacy just as surely as their male counterparts.

    In this post, we explore what archaeology reveals about their roles. struggles, and power during a time of shifting tribes, emerging hillforts, and mythic memory.

    Colorful abstract painting featuring a celtic knot border, a bright sun, a stylized tree with multicolored leaves, and a vibrant field of flowers.
    A vibrant, colorful painting featuring a tree with colorful leaves. A stylized sun, and a bright blue sky, embodying a connection to nature and artistic expression.

    Life in the Bronze Age Welsh Marches:

    The Female Thread, settlements and Society.


    Sites like Llanilar, Moel y Gaer, and the Breiddin Hillfort give us glimpses of structured settlements roundhouses. Aswell as storage pits, and hearths.

    While many daily activities stay unrecorded, it’s women who managed food preparation, textile production, tool-making, and child-rearing. Their hands shaped the rhythm of Bronze Age life.

    Burial Practices and Reverence.


    At Allt Y Crib and nearby burial cairns. The remains of women have been discovered alongside grave goods beads, pottery, bronze tools.

    These finds suggest women were not merely laborers. But held positions of respect, spiritual or familial leaders whose deaths warranted ritual care.

    Pottery and Cultural Identity.


    Decorated pots, many found in ritual pits and barrows, often bear feminine associations. Women have been central to their crafting, shaping not only vessels, but cultural identity through art, trade, and tradition.

    Celtic knots, landscape abstract arts

    Stone Circles and Ritual


    Mysterious sites like Cerrig Duon and Y Garn Goch offer insight into ceremonial life. While we can’t say definitively that women led rituals. Their burial proximity and symbolic items hint at possible priestess roles guardians of knowledge, seasons, and ancestral memory.

    Subsistence and Survival

    The Grinding stones, charred grains, and animal remains suggest women were active in agriculture, foraging, and preservation. They ensured continuity passing down wisdom in planting cycles, herbal lore, and the ways of fire and feast.

    Silent Influence, Lasting Echo


    Though no written records survive from the Bronze Age, the archaeology of the Welsh Marches speaks in its own language. Women’s influence is woven into every excavated hearth, every grave good, every pottery shard.

    They were not background figures they were central to survival, culture, and possibly leadership.

    Whether as midwives, weavers, warriors, or spiritual guides. The women of the Welsh Marches helped forge the legacy of the land Drax now calls home in StormborneLore.

    Thank you for reading.© 2025 Emma Hewitt / StormborneLore. All rights reserved.Unauthorized copying or reproduction of this content is prohibited.

    If you enjoyed this story, like, share, or leave a comment. Your support keeps the storm alive and the chronicles continuing.