inherit
37
0
2
Maur
113
October 2015
maur
|
Post by Maur on Jul 17, 2016 19:37:23 GMT
The Legend of Hohn Madfist
It was many years ago young Gobs, that a group of Ravagers were wearied and battered, they had fought hard against the Elven folk, but the Elves did not respect a good fight, no, they were vicious, they followed the Goblins over hills and through valleys shooting their arrows the whole way, many a good Gob died that day, all of them would have died if not for their savior. The Elves had everything going for them, they were bigger, they were stronger, and there was more of them, each of the Gobs would had to have killed ten Elves for them to make it out alive, the Gobs did what we do best, they disappeared into a forest, hiding in the tree tops as they waited for the Elves to come through, they were ready to drop bombs and acid on the Elves, hoping that it would be enough. In the Elves marched, their pretty faces smiling, their armor shining like trout in the sun! Oh were they proud! Laughing about how they were going to gut the Gobs! and then, BOOM! Their Captain was blown to pieces, not by the Gobs, no, if the Gobs had dropped their bombs and let the Elves know their position they would be dead and they knew it, this was something else. A bolt of lightning shot from the trees, and two Elves were killed, then emerged an Orc, Hohn Madfist of the Shaded Wood! With a swing of his mighty and storms from the palm of his massive green hand the Orc slew an Elf, he cleaved another in half and caused lightning to crash to the ground, the ground exploded into a shower of dirt and Elves were thrown in every direction! he cut them down right and left, none could stand against the Madfist! In the end one Elf faced him, the pale face swung his dainty sword at the mighty Orc, and Madfist caught the blade in his bare hand! He pulled it to the side and cut the head off the insolent Elf, the Elf wasn't so proud then, when he fell to the ground Madfist pulled out his massive stick and rained all over their corpses! He saved the Gobs and they thanked him greatly, it was a marvelous day for all involved be sure of that fact.
|
|
inherit
37
0
2
Maur
113
October 2015
maur
|
Post by Maur on Jul 17, 2016 19:39:32 GMT
The Legend of Kanthrok The castle was great, but the conflict that raged beyond its arched doorways were far greater, they claimed he was mad, that he had lost his mind. Even his closest allies began to turn against him, only the flame could keep his enemies at bay now, only the flame. Had he gone mad? Had he? Was it madness to immolate your foes? So what if his foes stood in a city of innocents, that was the price of war, if they did not want the consequences they should not have stood against him. The Firelord laughed as he sat on his volcanic throne, none could match him now. He had become the flame, he was the flame. He was no longer Duun of Newstone, a mere Lithomancer in an ancient order of fools, no, he was Kanthrok of the fire, master of stone, metal, and flame. Kanthrok stood, his throne melted into magma behind him and flowed down the sides of the room, the massive doors to his throne-room flew open with a wave of his hand, they broke of their hinges and soared out into the night, like eagles upon the wing. The thick stone plates that were the gate to his Kingdom landed amongst the armies that amassed against him, killing thousands. It seemed as if the whole island was against him now, the very soul of Provenance was dedicated to his demise, he would not have it. The earth rumbled beneath the forces at the bottom of his stairs, this land was his, it would be his in life, and in death, none could take it from him. Deep from within the earth fire spewed onto the surface, the castle behind Kanthrok shifted and wavered, then slowly began to turn to magma which pooled at the feet of the armies arrayed against him. "YOU WOULD TAKE THIS LAND FROM ME?"
His voice thundered from every inch of the earth, dark and filled with malice. "YOU ARE SORELY MISTAKEN."
Magma poured from every hillside, erupted from every crevice, the land itself threatened to fall apart beneath them, the fiery viscous liquid rolled like a tidal wave toward the massive host before him from every angle, then it stopped, and flowed back into the earth faster than one would think possible. "WE WILL ALL BURN."
The very ground beneath their feet erupted into flames, everything erupted into flames, Kanthrok laughed as he was consumed, his sins would forever stain the land, but he did not care as he consumed within an inferno of his own making.
|
|
inherit
37
0
2
Maur
113
October 2015
maur
|
Post by Maur on Jul 17, 2016 19:42:35 GMT
The Essays on Provenance, by Dr. Dorrien Mauritius Chandler.
Part one, The Heartless
Hello, I suppose I should introduce myself before delving into the unimaginable that you will no doubt not believe, the kinds of things I, Dorrien Chandler, have seen firsthand, the kinds of things that would drive you common-folk mad, I am sure. I was born forty-six years prior to the revision and publishing of these documents, and forty-one years prior to their original writing All of the things you will read in these papers were seen and documented by myself on a small island to the south of the world. Even though its size may be negligible, the island itself is not, due to the wildness and fertile nature of the landscapes, I have no doubt that it played, and plays, a large part in the world. This island is doubtlessly the birthplace of many powerful things, and some still roam its beaches and forests. The island has a small Kingdom on its shores, which is where I spent much of my time between journeys into the wild. The Document I have chosen to display to you first is a particularly interesting one, hereafter comments made in revision will be denoted with parenthesis, everything else is the original script jotted down on the island, which I have named, The Isle of Provenance. This may seem unbelievable to any who read this, I cannot even believe it, but this is the truth, when I sojourned to a valley riddled in the folklore of the Islanders, known to them only as a place of danger, I discovered something that changed me, and doubtlessly I have incurred the wrath of some strange being (Here I was a bit paranoid), things have been happening, I feel the end is nigh so I must record my findings. When I came to the mouth of the valley, there was no life to be found, simply grey abounded as far as I could percieve, no vegetation grew, no water trickled, it was a place of cold hard stone. Which I found odd, because before me was this wasteland, and behind me I had emerged from a lush jungle, the weather changed dramatically, a dull misting of rain fell gently against the stone, combining with the dust into some sort of greasy slime, I guessed that was the most water I would see for awhile, five feet in the air a heavy fog hung, obscuring the sun with its density. It was at this point that all but two of my companions refused to enter, even brave Methuseld the muscle bound conqueror, declined to foray into the Valley with me. I was left with Kedemah, a young lady and without a doubt the most courageous of the troop, ironic that originally we had brought her merely as a cook, and Gethamel, an odd fellow, his skin was sallow and his eyes sunken, we had guessed him to be about the age of thirty-five, though none really knew and many couldn't remember his joining our merry band. We planned to leave at nightfall, though as to why we didn't know, just something about the land compelled us to set out at that time, and it seemed like a good idea while we were there. The rest of the band, seven tanned and experienced guides and explorers, set up camp with an understanding that they would leave with the equipment and the copies of my existing documents in three days time, I kept the originals in my satchel at all times. It was a rather bleak affair, leaving the camp and marching off into the dusty, yet strangely wet valley, Methuseld accompanied us for about ten minutes, to be sure we didn't slip on any rocks and tumble to an untimely death, but eventually the eerie quiet of the land unnerved him to the point of abandon, and he made true on his promise to stay at camp until the three days had expired. Methuseld's departure only dampened the depressed air of our journey, and he was right for leaving, there was something unnatural about the land, it was quiet, and at the same time also incredibly loud, as if there was something behind the veil of reality, peering through a small hole and making ready to burst into existence, it was a tense, uneasy feeling, and it was constant. Hours passed, and the three of us made good progress, we had traveled far, strangely far, by my calculations we had gone for seven miles, and the valley was merely five in length, I assumed my presumptions wrong and we continued. My journal entries from this time: Something is terribly wrong, the place grows maddeningly hot, sweat pours from us and yet there is not a ray of sunlight in sight, perhaps we simply feel that it is hot, and we are actually freezing to death, an uncomfortable thought. I have come to the conclusion that there is no end to this damned valley, I think I have seen the same rock twice, but we never deviated from a straight line between those two points, I feel I am soon to panic, my logic is failing me. More and more hours passed from this time, until our water supplies ran low and we were tempted to cook the stone, as our food stores had expired. "Surely day will come soon?" Kedemah eventually asked, to which I replied, "Indeed, in fact day should have arrived hours before now, we approach night again." But if one were to glance at the sky they would surely not think this so, the light had not changed in the slightest since the minute we first stepped into that valley, the dull color of evening still enshrouded us as it did a day and a half ago. A couple more hours, and we came upon a generous opening in the valley's side, this was a good tiding, we had not seen this before, it turned out to be a tunnel, where we made camp and planned for the morning, though we were all dreadfully tired, we decided on getting a few hours sleep and making back the way we came as soon as possible, and all prepared for a quick slumber. We had made camp in the mouth of the tunnel, fearing to go deeper, our passage in was obscured by fog anyways, but not the grey-white fog of the valley, no, the fog of the tunnel was dark, darker than black, and we feared it. We overslept I'll freely admit, but of that when I awoke I was not concerned, what concerned me the most was the fact that Gethamel was gone, and where he slept was a small streak of what we later decided had to have been blood. We decided to separate and try to find him before heading back to camp, even as the three day deadline loomed I made ready to venture into the tunnel, with a lit torch I was prepared as one could be, and I bid Kedemah farewell, she was to go out into the valley, and search and shout while I was gone. The fog was all consuming, to hear Kedemah tell it she lost sight of me as soon as my foot entered, she claims it rushed out to surround me and pull me in, but I experienced none of this and find it hard to believe, then again, after what I'm about to tell you, you may think I should not be so skeptical. I delved for a good while, every step I took was one I feared I would not be able to retake, and soon I came upon a corridor, cleanly cloven into a rectangular hall, as if by tools, once inside the fog one finds it easier to see so I could discern these things with little trouble. What I saw next, I admit, chilled me. Set into one of the four walls, was a carved depiction, of a wraith-like entity, from where I stood I could feel a strange, cold power, emanating from the depiction, and all about the carving of the wraith, incredibly detailed faces had been set into the stone. Appearing to have been carved during their subjects death throes, as they all bore pain and horror. There was a slightly older man, a young boy, many others, and Gethamel. I heard a footstep, it came from the corner of the room, it seemed darker there, like something was leeching what little light had managed to fight its way into this corner of hell, not far from the engrossing shadows was a shelf, littered with what looked like human hearts, the hearts beat in tune with one another, and each one was fastened to the next with what seemed like tendrils of smoke, and from the shadows, stretched a slender grey hand in my direction, the fingers were unnaturally long, two inch talons sprouted from four fingers, they were coated in blood and were drawing all life from the room, of that I have no doubt. I could feel the shadows become oppressive, but my feet were rooted to the ground, as it approached I began to feel weak, the arm stretched endlessly from the encasing shadow, it appeared to be longer than eternity, or maybe that was simply what it wanted me to think. I began to feel as though I would faint, and retched black blood onto the cold stone floor, this removed me from my stupor. I ran, and grabbed Kedemah as I stumbled from the tunnel's mouth, we didn't stop running until we had crossed the threshold of the valley. The depiction still haunts me, a shadow of a person, a horribly twisted phantom, with a scar over its heart, as if it had been removed.
|
|
inherit
37
0
2
Maur
113
October 2015
maur
|
Post by Maur on Jul 17, 2016 19:46:15 GMT
The Essays on Provenance, by Dr. Dorrien Mauritius Chandler.
Part two, The Twisted Treant. I will say this now for reiterations sake, some years ago I was on an Isle I have come to the Isle of Provenance, and while there I documented and saw many strange things, now, I, Dorrien Chandler, am revising and publishing these documents to spread the knowledge of so strange and so great a land. Hereafter comments made in revision will be denoted with parenthesis, enjoy. My name is (The document is smudged here, but you know my name already), and this is one of my tales. I write now from the comfort of my Tavern Room on the coast of Provenance, but it was not so a mere couple hours ago, at that time, I was staring down the maw of death, and chaos itself stared back, thank Den I had my ax on me, it feared axes, and fire, but I'm getting ahead of myself here, to put it bluntly, I met a Treant, yes that's right a Treant, Shepherd of the trees, the stuff of legend, which is normally supposed to be a magically wonderful experience, or so I've heard, centuries of wisdom just waiting to be tapped from a dying breed, legend tells they are dying at least, I didn't have the time to ask this one, he was too busy trying to kill me. It was sunrise yesterday when I had finally settled on the location for my next foray into the land, the Grey Forest as the locals called it, it was a dense, thick wood. The trees were gnarled and old, but they persevered and very little else grew, I was curious as to the nature of this land, and I thought it might give me a brief respite from the chokingly humid jungles and oppressive sun-filled beaches that the Island adorns. I gathered a small crew this time, mercenaries and fellow adventurers, and we were to head out that afternoon, it was all a very last-minute affair but I had my heart set on that strange place and so the preparations were made. My companions included a few men of hardy stock, a scribe to take down what I failed to scribble across mine own parchment, and an archer from, of all places, Etirath, I guess we were both looking for a bit of home because he readily agreed to come along and I readily accepted him, he used to be a marksman for Queen Theolandra herself I believe, or that was how he told it, I have no way of knowing whether he was speaking falsely. We set out in the afternoon, as aforementioned, though regretfully even now, just a day afterwards, I cannot remember the exact time, do forgive me for that. The party was a strong one and we made good time, I idly chatted of home with my Archer friend, his name was Johnathann I believe, we spoke of the great mountains and streams, the Queen's lovely palace and even lovelier yet the Queen herself, how I miss Etirath, how I long to return and make a home in the rural district, someday publish there exhausting documents, but alas that time is not yet. Most of the journey to the wood was uneventful, we had one man leave the party but that always happens along the way, to me anyway. When we arrived at the wood, I realized it was not quite so large as made out to be by the locals, it seemed from where I stood, upon a hill that lead down into the old Grey trees, that it was merely two miles at its widest, and yet something about the land felt foreboding, as if this small patch of land was the only one in the world that mattered. Another man left us at this point, which is usual and I don't think lesser of him for it (I have since changed my opinion on this, that man was a coward, but on the island I was less cynical). Into the wood we went, I planned to cut straight through and come out the other side, that way we could circle around the hill tops that surrounded the forest, and return to civilization, only having to had passed through once. The Journey was quite plain and disappointing at this point, and many of us began to wonder why we even came. We made camp at the base of a great tree in the oppressive sun, and the men set about maintaining their tools and cleaning their swords, I selected a hatchet from the general supplies, call it a hunch but I feared I may have had need of it before the day was out. It was at around this point that we began to hear a strange rustling among the trees, which was strange for two reasons, it sounded large, too large for us to not have seen it from the hill, and, there were no leaves to rustle against. Needless to say we were frazzled, I gripped the handle of my ax until my knuckles were white, and Johnathann prepared some broad tipped arrows, I didn't know how useful those would be against something that was obviously as large as the trees, but he was adamant to use them. A few minutes passed, and the rustling grew louder, and closer, evidently my Archer friend saw something, for he drew and fired in the blink of an eye, I do not know whether he served the Queen or not, but he certainly had the skill for it, his aim was true, and for a moment the rustling stopped, I began to ask him what it was, what he saw that made him shoot, and why he decided to attack instead of taking the more diplomatic route I had in mind. But before he could answer, the wood rustled again, and out stepped a nightmare. It was taller than every other tree in the forest, I'd imagine it had trouble getting around in that confined area, but maybe it had some method, some forty root-like feet twisted into two massive stump-like legs, gnarled and old wood started wide at its hands and narrowed as it approached the body, the odd cone-shaped arms extended past the elbow joint, ending in spikes which could finish a Giant, an uncountable array of branches grew from its back, some old, some dead, some dying, and some covered with dry and persevering leaves, two deadly horns stretched from its skull, as if it were the devil itself. A rounded face on an angular skull, no nose or snout to speak of, just a wide closed mouth and two burning yellow eyes. The man nearest the thing fled when he saw it, but it caught him by the foot with the use of a single leg root, and pierced his chest with a branch as thick as my arm, it lifted the poor man by his impaled chest, and threw him across the clearing where we had made camp, he impacted the great tree I stood under sharply, and I heard his spine snap like a twig. Johnathann fired two arrows in rapid succession, to no avail, as they were broad-tipped and the one that didn't bounce on impact merely penetrated a few millimeters and clattered to the ground. 'Distract him!' Johnathann cried out and dashed behind the large tree, it was I and the few brave souls I stood by now, a root shot out from it, and tied itself around my ankle, dragging my feet out from under me, my head hit soft ground as I was taken suddenly from my balance. Thankfully I was fast enough to sever the root with a few quick hacks of my hatchet, and crawled away. It didn't howl in pain like I expected or come back at me even harder in vengeance. It was calm, as if it had done this a million times before, and already knew the outcome. Two more fell to it, it was just some man I am ashamed to not remember the name of, and I, we were ready to run, run for our lives, but if we turned to run our lives were forfeit already, the old grey thing scooped up one of our dead comrades, and slid it into the wide mouth that stretched across its face, I had always thought that Treants consumed strictly soil and water, I had no idea before then, that they were capable of something else. Out stepped Johnathann, lit fire arrow drawn taut on his powerful re curve bow, 'be gone!' He exclaimed, and fired, his aim was as always true to the mark, and the piercing arrow embedded itself in the middle of the creature's face, it tried to slap the arrow away, only to break the shaft and the bottle of fuel that was attached to it. A flammable substance stained its head and hands, and it was set ablaze by the arrow. The tree screamed, and we fled. I arrived back at the Tavern twenty odd minutes ago, i don't know what became of the tree, or the forest, nor do I care to, I am never going back there.
|
|
inherit
37
0
2
Maur
113
October 2015
maur
|
Post by Maur on Jul 17, 2016 19:51:49 GMT
The Essays on Provenance, by Dr. Dorrien Mauritius Chandler.
Part three, the Lizardmen of Aul. This tale has its beginnings in the port city of Silversand, which I may write a bit more on in the future, it is toward the southern end of the island, near an ashen land the natives call Aul. The place is not a very cheers or friendly land, but it is where one of the most intelligent and capable species on Provenance made their home, the Lizardmen, the port of Silversand lies roughly two miles from the border of Aul, so the citizens of the fairly large city have oft seen these famed Lizards, they were described to me from observations that had been made at a distance by the denizens of Silversand, and many accounts were contradictory to others. I ad stopped and rested in Silversand merely as a stepping stone to another possible adventure, I had been informed three days prior by a mercenary from the Stronghold of Eldaen that there were rumors of monsters in Silversand, that stalked the beaches and preyed on fishermen. Upon my return from Aul I did stop again at the fair city and investigate these stories, my results may be released in a future essay. My arrival and tales of my possible journey into Aul had aroused the curiosity of the city's populace, I learned that many of the natives were curious of the land that lay so close to their homes, and there were several capable men and women who wished to go with me, at my time of departure I had confirmed four fellow travelers, a renowned local swordsman with a penchant for mischief by the name Freffen, a cartographer who went by Caluun who was also rather adept with a spear, and two others by the names of Gaed and Rish. The land of Aul was no more than an hour's walk from the city of Silversand, although one could not see it until they were practically upon it, due to a large ridge of hills that blocked it from view. We easily crossed the expanse and stopped to rest where the land began to turn grey, within five minutes the land all around us had become barren, and it was obvious that no life existed in said land's interior, luckily we were very near to the coast, so we used it as a guide for most of our journey, Caluun had been noticing many possible landmarks as we walked and quickly jotted them down into several papers she kept within a satchel at her side. Most of our journey was uneventful and passed in silence, the ground was soft and progress was made more difficult as a consequence. In my opinion we made good time, because within a day and a half Gaed, a young man with tanned skin and brown hair had noticed smoke, it rose from the top of a slight hill nearly a mile away, from the distance we could barely see faint silhouettes moving among the shadows cast by the flames. Even the flames were barely distinguishable through apparent rows of tents. We slowly approached under the cover of darkness, night was fast approaching but there was still a faint glimmer of grey in the sky as we reached the outskirts of what we now knew was merely a camp by the sea. My adventure minded companion Gaed gently lifted the bottom of one of their animal hide tents from the ground, and peered inside. "No one's home." He told us before disappearing behind the curtain of cooked animal skin, Freffen, never to be outdone, rushed in after him. We three who remained came to the conclusion that they would be fine on their own, and we endeavored to glimpse a real specimen of the species we sought to document. The layout of this tent town was fairly logical, we were among the outer tents, which seemed to be living quarters for the poorer folk, we learned this once we pressed deeper and discovered another layer, within these abodes the belongings were of higher quality, but not significantly so. As we reached the third layer of tents the most immediate thing I noticed was that beyond this grand, larger tents, was one luxurious structure, I would not even hasten to call it a tent, it's primary material seemed to be the same as the others, the hide of an unknown animal, but it had framing of some hard material that was hard to distinguish being covered in hide, it was too hard for wood and too soft for stone, to this day I still do not know what it was comprised of. At around this time I learned never to venture deeper into danger without possessing extreme or unnatural vigilance, unbeknownst to us three denizens of the tent-town had slunk between the hide structures around us, although I have not since learned where they saw us or began to follow, I suspect their eyes were upon us before we even saw the smoke in the distance, the Lizardmen have very sophisticated scouting and camouflaging techniques, this was shown to me later in our encounter with them. They sprang upon us and I ordered my companions to lower their weapons so as to appear passive and harmless, scaled hands and taloned fingers seized us, and we were taken closer to the firelight, as we rounded the building and our captors were illuminated I caught my first solid glimpse of them. The Lizardmen are tall, these were roughly six feet and I have reason to believe they are small among their kin, they are bipedal, with powerful scaled haunches and long tails that end in spear-like tips, their elongated skulls contain rows of dagger-like teeth, and their lustrous hides are the hue of golden honey. As we were brought before the campfire another thing was revealed to me, these creatures spoke the common tongue, and spoke it well, one would expect hissing and guttural tones, but the syllables that spilled from the mouths of those who spoke were eloquent and honestly a pleasure to listen to. Aul was apparently a harsh land, indicated by the fact that each figure before me carried a weapon of some sort, although even without said weapons they were far from helpless, due to their natural armaments of tooth and claw. From what I had seen until that point I would have said Aul was a barren land, which is certainly true of its northern border, but as I was brought to their leader, a female by the name of Yilyn, I engaged them in conversation. Once we had explained ourselves and our reasons for being present on what was apparently a holiday for this clan, Yilyn and her people told us of southern Aul, where there were fields of tall grass and lakes of clear waters, fruits and plants I had never seen, much less heard of. We spoke of the rarity their kind were perceived to be, and she said that the reason so few of them were seen in the North, is that none of them called it home. The southern coast of Aul, which was also the southern coast of Provenance itself, is home to a mountain range, and from the sea it appears to be just that, a mountain range on the edge of beautifully cerulean waters, but according to Yilyn, those mountains were riddled with caves, the valleys below them were filled with huts, and the forests behind them had cities of wood and stone in abundance. I could not believe my ears, but according to this obviously prominent person in their society, the entire southern coast of the island was one sprawling nation of Lizardmen. I inquired as to why she was not there now, based on what she said it seemed like a fair place to be and live, and she agreed, stating that the reason she wasn't there, is because she and her people were defending it, the outpost that I stood in had been erected four days prior to fend off would be usurpers to the ruling Clan, they were mercenaries bought by a rival lord, and her company chased them off, they corralled them to the Northern border and set up a vast scouting network to await their eventual return. This was a war party, and I began to grow concerned. The conversation was idle chat about each of our homes from that point onward, my companions and her's sat silently while we conversed, we spoke long on many topics, and my concern was eased when I understood just how intelligent and noble these creatures were. I wish to journey south to see that fair land someday, and to speak with those people, according to Yilyn they possessed naval craft hidden in covered bays and coves, I can imagine sailing in the clearest waters one could fathom, but for now I am satisfied with the conversation I had, which is why we journeyed north after staying a night in one of their graciously provided and surprisingly comfortable tents. Yilyn told me many things, I may record them some day in another essay, but for now this will be all.
|
|
inherit
37
0
2
Maur
113
October 2015
maur
|
Post by Maur on Jul 17, 2016 19:58:42 GMT
The Lithomancers of Newstone Isle Newstone Isle, has two coastal cities, but the island is constantly shrouded in a heavy mist, so much so that it is nearly impossible to find on purpose. Because most would mistake the phenomenon as the curse of some ancient being. The two cities on the island are called Xallon and Duthros, and they are inhabited solely by Lizardmen. Duthros is a fairly new city, built by the current population so that they may have more dwelling, as a consequence of this the population of Newstone learned inter-city trade. Xallon on the other hand is ancient and strong, it was built by the first Lithomancers to come to the island, before they moved to the mountaintop to further their studies. The Lithomancers are practically a brotherhood, they stand by each other, and trust each other. The leader of the Lithos is Augun Fissth, arguably the most adept of his order, it is said that Augun could tear down a mountain in seconds, and raise a Palace twice the size in its place. He does not wish to do those things however, his interests lie in teaching the next generations of Lithomancers to hone their innate skills. Augun has long attempted to find a way to bestow the powers of Lithomancy on those who were not born with the gift. Surprisingly Newstone isle has a large percentage of capable Lithos to the general population, it seems that Lizardmen are unusually linked to the earth, allowing many of them to achieve the ability. Lithomancers themselves are undoubtedly powerful, but the Brotherhood of Newstone is on a different level entirely, if any were to forsake their vows and leave the island they would be a great boon to any they allied with. Their vows being: "My power is sacred, given by the earth, I will use it in the most reverent ways, through study I shall increase. Never shall I use my abilities for personal gain, never shall I practice off this blessed island."
|
|
inherit
37
0
2
Maur
113
October 2015
maur
|
Post by Maur on Jul 20, 2016 19:30:00 GMT
The Bloodlines of the LizardmenMost of the Lizardmen on the southern end of Provenance occupy three colors of scale, brown, green, and tan. These are the generally the common folk which far outweigh the other scales colors represented on the island, who have sacrificed much to keep their lineages pure.
Red Scales:
The Redscales of Gara and of Mithwen have long coveted their house's ancient names, the greater of the two has always been Gara, wars have been fought for their support. There are a few thousand redscales in the mighty fortresses of the Garan hills, every one of said fortresses is impenetrable, especially considering their defenders. Gara Redscales have a long history, but the most interesting thing about them, is the entire group's unusual affinity for Lithomancy and Pyromancy, they are direct descendants of Kanthrok, the Redscale who created Aul, granted they have to knowledge of this.
The above is one of the things that sets Garans apart from Mithwenians, the other is the Animalapis, which Ciro stole when he fled for Newstone. The Animalapis are several ancient and intricately carved diamond shaped stone plates, that have been used for millennia by the Garans to one sole end, the preservation of souls. The Lithomancers among the Garans are proficient in constructing Golems, which are then carved by the Runesmiths among them, Ciro was one of them so he has an intricate knowledge of the process. The Runes allow the soul from the stone to inhabit the Golem, making a living, learning, and wise piece of stonework. Unfortunately for the Garans when Ciro fled he took the hundreds of pieces of Animalapis with him, meaning that the creation of more Golems would require the creation of more stones, and more disembodied souls.
Onyx Scales:
Taller than most, the Onyx scales are a legend to nearly every living being in existence, few are ever seen, they are proficient in Umbramancy,mit is believed that most of them died off years ago due to being outcasts of a society that places high value on honor, their natures went against the code, and so they were hunted and slaughtered for decades to near extinction.
Snow Scales:
While the Onyx scales excelled in Umbramancy, the Snow Scales have an unusual affinity for Luximancy, the Province of Dalath belongs to the only remaining house of Snow Scales, now simply referred to as Dalathians, although at one time many houses ruled the land. The Dalathians patrol their borders frequently, there are only a few hundred left after the war of the Cyans and the Snows. Snow Scales live longer than most of their brethren, having been known to reach two hundred and fifty years of age, whilst retaining their ability to run and fight. When not keeping strangers from their land, the Dalathians can be found in one of their five Temples of Light spread throughout Dalath itself.
Violet Scales:
Interwoven into society and known for the remaining houses' incredible wealth, Violet scales can be seen walking the streets of many larger cities, or paying brown and green scales to tend the gardens of their mountainside villas. The most powerful of the Violet houses, Arkandil, once bore a great grudge against the Red Scales of Mithwen, a war began over a few simple wrongs lost to time, many died, but the Violets agreed to peace when Gara sided with Mithwen, and the Golems overwhelmed the commoners that the Arkandils had hired to fight for them.
Cyan Scales:
One house remains, after their war with the Snow Scales the Cyans are a weak and fading group. Wise leaders are at the helm however, and they may drag the Cyan Bloodline from its squalor.
|
|