The Fauknir make their homes along the shifting borderlands of Thalorien, where the great forest thins and the land sinks into the wetlands of Dreomere. Here the ground is damp and fertile, fed by streams that wind from the marshes into tilled fields and pastures. The Fauknir thrive in this threshold between woodland and water, building their farmsteads on firm rises above the moors, tending crops that drink from the marsh-fed soil, and shaping lives that are simple yet steadfast.

Farmers, bakers, roofers, masons, and weavers, the Fauknir embody the crafts of labor. Their houses are built to endure, their farmsteads known for practical design and strength. Where Vhalandir architecture rises with elegant arches and carved motifs, the Fauknir build straight and solid lines: homes meant not to dazzle, but to last.

Their lives are grounded in work, simplicity, and peace. They know no great scholars or artists, nor do their halls echo with choirs of harp and flute. Their songs are brief, their tales plain—yet they sing at harvest, they laugh around the ovens of their bakers, and they share meals in broad, welcoming halls.

Trade with the Vhalandir lies at the heart of their prosperity. From their fields flow grain, vegetables, and bread, valued highly by the Thaeryx and other tribes. In return, the Fauknir receive milk and wool from the Fyr, gifts they could not produce themselves. This cycle of exchange is ancient, a quiet covenant binding the two peoples.

Though the Vhalandir do not regard the Fauknir as equals—in artistry, lore, or learning—there is no scorn in the balance. The Fauknir are seen instead as steady partners, as the foundation upon which the refinement of Thalorien rests. In their quiet simplicity lies a resilience no song or painting could replace.