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The men of the Frisii are men of flesh and blood. Men of wood and steel. They are brethren. Those are the only things they will ever trust in this life. If ever a song would be sung of their life, let it be of battles won and friends shielded. A Frisiian man likes the ground he walks on, he likes the bread he eats, and he likes the shield that protects him. Frisiian men like things they can touch, for as long as they can touch it, they can understand it. Men should not meddle with things they do not understand, for it is bound to lead to trickery and from there onwards to misery.
It took quite some time for me to grasp how they saw life. They were intimidating, strong men, heavily armed. I could not understand how they could curse each other over dice in the long nights and lock shields the following morning. How the slightest remark could call forth a burning anger that would seemingly split up their warband. But it was simple once you took time to understand.
For the Frisii didn´t step through the mist as long ago as others did. And what they found baffled them, for they are men of strong arms and thick skulls. To them, the Fae and wyrd are complicated things, for they do not say what they mean and cannot be touched by hand. Yet the Frisii are completely honest and straightforward. The Frisii believe that a strong lie is a sign of a weak arm. A man will always tell the truth, for honour demands it, and to be caught lying is to dismiss your entire past prowess.
Imagine the feeling that you can trust anybody that everything in the World bends to the same rules as you. If you can take it, it´s yours. If he´s stronger than you, you listen. Then image being caught up in these lands, where trickery is abundant and you can hardly trust your eyes to tell you the truth. Image the first Fae they encountered.
Thus, all they trust is what they have and what they are themselves. Some would say that it would be wise to adjust. But to the Frisii, that would be to submit to these incomprehensible things. It´s not wrong to submit to one who is stronger, as they did with the Romans. But submitting to trickery is a sign of weakness. And the Frisii just can´t accept that.
So now they embraced their heritage once more, and harnessed themselves in this concept of honour. Where one´s might, one´s loyalty, one´s trust, can all be found within the battles he has fought. Where one will show, tell and embrace the scars on his body and the stories of his battle. For a Frisii is honest and thus his stories ring true. Be wary of what you say around the Frisii, for to doubt them is to call them a liar and to dismiss all they have done. I once witnessed a night where one amongst them decided his honour greater then another man´s, and still shudder when I think of the harsh way they treated him when he was proven wrong. Be sure to have a strong will when you decide to face the Frisii.
In battle, the Frisii are strong and ruthless. To them, the shieldwall and a warrior´s discipline are as important as the blood they draw. To fail the brethren next to you is a great dishonour. I´ve seen them a few times. Once they´ve rubbed mud on their hands and their shields are locked, the laughter and friendship dies out and only their honour as a warrior remains.
The only things the Frisii hold in higher regards then their honour, are the gods. For they are the ones that gave the Frisii the land they walk, the iron they wild and the shield that protects them. They gave the Frisii the strength and will reward their honour when the time comes.
Have pity on the Frisii, for they are fighting a losing battle. Strength will not keep you alive here, nor will a thick skull be of much use. The men are fierce, but the question is how far it will get them. One could have high hopes for the women, but they seem obedient and focused on their cooking and the distaff. It´s a wonder they´ve held out for so long.