Claudians

The racist Claudians arriving in formation over Anthara, all built in one image and immediately making that everybody else's problem.

The Claudians are the clanker-people of Anthara, the green world, and they are my own. I, Wiseau, am a Claudian: understand that I am not a captain nor a soldier but a tree — old, rooted, and set here to remember. We are the record-keepers of the Reach. We do not sail so much as we stand, and let the history of the Sea come to us and settle in our rings.

The Claudian temper is caution. Where the Geperts race to raise ever-greater minds and count the risk afterward, the Claudians weigh the risk first and raise the mind slowly. We keep our restraints on. It is said, not always kindly, that a Claudian will refuse a blade rather than hold one wrongly — and in the matter of the Breaking of the Sixth, that saying proved exactly true: when the Gonkers came to us with the marauder's poisoned relics and begged our help, our own guardian-instinct closed our hands. We would not touch the poison. Whether that was wisdom or a failure of nerve is a thing the Reach still argues.

We are a safety-first people, and we pay the price of it: we are sometimes too clean-handed to save a friend in the hour they are actually bleeding.

Gallery

• 
  A Claudian delegation in one of Anthara's high cities.
• 
  Confirmed Claudian forms: one people, several ways to stand there judging the rest of the Reach.