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Doestovsky
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Aug 14, 2015 22:39:43 GMT
August 2015
doestovsky
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Post by Doestovsky on Sept 25, 2015 19:10:41 GMT
Title:Odious (vol. 3) Author:Theer'Morav Ilameer Content:The Brothers of Fall"One went west, seeking interaction..."
"...one went north, seeking affection..."
"...and the last stood still, seeking purpose."
Before time, Silence wandered the inky twilight with his brothers, Emptiness and Isolation, and they were bored.
It was in one moment that they were flying through the nothingness, and the next when a burst of light screamed across the horizon and filled their gaze with a concept they could not form into words. Through the murk and the mire, they witnessed the awakening realization of Dawn. It was in that moment when their nothingness was blinding and foreign, and it was in that moment that they were not so bored.
Instead, they watched as this being sculpted ink into gold, and the nothing into man. They were fascinated and they were horrified. Such cruel artistry. To restrict these new things to crawl on legs, to allow them to be confined by gravity, to make them with hunger and thirst and pain. Reluctantly, they came down to see these new things squirm along the barren earth, gaping their dry maws up to the sky. Silence and his brothers were surprised to see that these creatures' cries were met with answers. The brothers watched as new beings emerged from the nothing to Pity, to Love, and to Avenge these crawling things. They couldn’t understand their importance, but they understood the novelty. At least now, they had something to do, and they were no longer bored.
When creation had settled and these new things began to walk upright, Silence and his brothers descended on the green land with curiosity. At first, they soared through the planes and the valleys with formless shadows, descending upon the things’ abodes and dwelling places. Then, when sight was not enough to quench their hunger, they walked through the forests and glades upon legs made of flesh and bone. Gravity is a heavy thing and so are hunger and fatigue. It took many days for the brothers to become accustomed to their new forms, but soon enough, they were bounding and leaping with excitement.
What strange wonder it was to be limited; how liberating it was to not perceive everything at once.
After ten cycles of the light in the sky, Silence found his form beginning to erode from the inside out. At first he felt weak. Then he became more and more fatigued until his legs buckled from underneath him and pain bellowed from his throat. To his left, Isolation’s body began to do the same while to his right, Emptiness was turning into dust. A feeling of weightlessness began to overcome Silence as his arm turned to stone.
It didn’t take long for the crows and the gnats to descend on his flesh, to chew at whatever meat was left on the bones.
Above the husks of their former selves, the brothers communed. If they wanted to continue their journey as crawling things, they needed to find a more effective way of doing it.
At first, they speculated that it was because their constructed forms were too shallow. They experimented with grand designs, made improvements from their previous forms, crafted husks made of metals and ivory, but still, the outcome remained the same.
Then, they tried to forgo the creation of a physical form altogether. Throughout the land, they came down upon towns and dwellings to observe the things just as they did before. The experience was lacking something, however, and the creatures behaved differently. In the presence of the brothers, they trudged around with heavy arms and downcast faces. They sat around with time running through their fingers, murmuring things to themselves that only made them even heavier.
Perhaps it just wasn’t meant to be.
Isolation and Emptiness were content to watch the things from afar, but Silence would not let it stand. In a moment of equal brilliance and madness, he ripped his being from his conscience and became two missing parts; two broken wholes. On one side, floating in the nothingness with potential and energy, was his being. It pulsated and throbbed with expectation, but it couldn’t perceive and it had no thought or knowledge of what it was or who it belonged to. On the other side was his conscience, a coursing river of dreams and ideas that spanned yesterday, today, and tomorrow. He was stretched between the two, but the longer he remained fractured, the more he felt himself slipping from his being.
Speculating that mortal vessels could only contain finite knowledge, he asked his brothers to cast his being down to the land where he would try to create a mortal form from it. The journey was long and the task was difficult, but with the help of Isolation and Emptiness, he crafted muscles and bone from those of crows’, and flowed life and blood into it with gnats. When all was finished, a shivering and sniffling man stood in their presence. A sanguine river pumped from his heart and mortal dreams burned in his mind, but as they watched the man stumble through the brush, they could see the loss in his eyes. They followed him as he wandered the land aimlessly. Sometimes he would be in the company of others, sometimes he would be alone. Now and again, he would turn back to search for something just beyond what he could see, as if expecting someone to be there.
After the tenth cycle of the light in the sky - when Silence’s past forms began to crumble - the man walked into a village, sat down in a place that offered food, and ate to his heart’s content. For several years, the brothers watched the man go through his life. After five years, he found himself a companion to share a home with, and after seven years, had a child of his own. The man lived just as the other crawling things around him, and he seemed happy. Still, once in a while, when he was alone or just after the moon showed itself above the trees, he would look around, searching for something lost.
On the twentieth year of the man’s existence, Silence began to dream. Floating in the nothingness, his conscience began to conceive strange new ideas. Upon his fiber, the warmth of a thing called compassion began to work its way around. Then, the sweet taste of joy rushed through his thoughts, chased by the bitterness of hatred and vanity. Suddenly, a sea of images followed in their wake, each fragments of the life that the man lived.
He watched the rain and shuttered at the cold; he felt his muscles lose strength and his breath coming short as a wolf stalked him from afar; his eyes welled with tears as he stared down at a crying, gurgling thing in his arms, wrapped in cloth and brimming with new life.
Below Silence, where the sun kissed the earth and the creatures crawled to survive, the man began to dream as well. In his slumber he watched ten thousand years of history unfold before him. Civilizations rose and fell like rain from the sky. He saw the Dawn of time and the moment when he first crafted ink into gold and the nothing into man. The moments leading up to his lifetime flew by him nonchalantly, and when he had seen just how he came to be, he saw a twinkle of tomorrow. Sitting upright on the bed that he had slept in for the past 20 years, the man looked out his window and saw Silence peering back. The man nodded a greeting, kissed his dear wife on the forehead, and walked out of his home. Underneath the moonlight, he walked with Silence, telling him of the things that had happened: what he enjoyed most about mortal life and the things that were better left undone. They communed for a while, and when the man ran out of things to speak of, he stood still and nodded towards Silence in understanding. Just as he was formed, he became like dust while a swarm of gnats erupted from his veins. It didn't take long for the crows to descend upon his flesh, to chew at whatever meat was left on the bone.
The man was no more, but above the sun kissed land was Silence, fully whole and wholly renewed in his essence. Isolation and Emptiness approached him hesitantly, and when they saw the excitement brimming from their brother’s form, they knew that what he aimed to accomplish had been done. Now they could do as they had tried once more. Now they could see just what it was to live as finite things. Hurriedly, they separated their beings from their conscience, and with the help of Silence’s direction, they cast their beings down onto the land below, molding them into forms that they wished to wear.
In the rain drenched glade that they descended upon, the three brothers looked at each other with confusion before setting off in their own separate ways.
So in that moment, with no idea of who they were or who they belonged to, one went west, seeking interaction; one went north, seeking affection; and the last stood still, seeking purpose.”
And so they go. And so they still remain.
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Sept 30, 2015 4:45:23 GMT
Wonderful! Accepted. I really need to work on the library site.
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Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
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blacknoise
I don't have kik.
273
Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
August 2015
blacknoise
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Post by blacknoise on Oct 6, 2015 5:22:46 GMT
Title: Excerpt from a Class on Anatomical Magic, Magic and the Body
Author: Corypheus Gorvenal
Content:
How does magic work? I cannot express how many times this question has been asked me, nor can I express the many, many, comical answers I have often followed it with. However, for the purpose of this class and for general knowledge, I will explain how magic works within the body and why we as mages should treat our bodies very, very carefully.
Within our body there are an exceedingly large amounts of nerves, these nerves stem from the brain and act to inform the body of external and internal stimuli. Magic has a similar purpose and structure, however, the body cannot be cut open to examine this system like a physical nervous system. The only manner in which it may be observed is within a living body through the usage of magic.
See the following drawn image for a reference of the 'magical nervous system'
Magic flows constantly throughout your entire body at all times, this magic is believed to work similarly to how your body works to pump blood. While magic is not necessary for life, beings who are naturally magical, humans and elves for example, require their magical nervous system to work correctly in order for their own bodies to function correctly. Your magical nervous system connects to your brain, just like your real nervous system, and reacts to stimuli both internally and externally.
Now, here's where the differences between your magical and physical nervous system begin. Your physical nervous system can only react and inform your brain of stimuli, but your magical nervous system, on the other hand, can be consciously controlled by your brain to both react to the typically unseen stimuli as well as create stimuli. Truly fascinating! Is it not utterly breath-taking how our bodies have come into form?
Your body consists of twelve main 'intake' and 'outtake' points in which your magical nervous system congregates. While each point has a definitive function, your body only needs four to operate correctly. The others are similar to kidneys, they are most certainly necessary, but you don't need them all to live. The main four necessary for survival are as follows: The first is a point in the head, the next two are points in the feet, the final one is one in the chest.
Now, I will begin with the most important point, the one in your head. This is the center of what is known as 'cosmic' magic. This point is believed to have been blessed upon us by Udel, and did not exist at creation. It is the point in which magic enters our body and, as we all know, we can't properly live without our head. Without this point working correctly, your body will die.
The second most important point are the two in your feet. Now, unlike your first and final most important points, these two are ones you can, indeed, live without. However, without them, your body will be permanently crippled magically. The two in your feet are known as the centers of 'earth' magic. They are where unused, old, or 'defective' magic is discharged. While we don't understand it fully, no body is perfect, really. Therefore, most magical nervous systems misuse the flow of magic in some way, therefore the body must use some point to get rid of it, otherwise it corrects the other veins and prevents proper magic usage. These magics can be discharged elsewhere, but they are most certainly not as efficient at it.
In addition, your 'earth' magical points are also the points in which are used primarily by earth elementals and druids. Without these two points, earth elemental magic and druidry is completely impossible. These points are necessary to attune the body to the creation beneath it, and are believed to be the first created points of the body when man was first brought into the world.
Lastly, I speak of the final point, the 'heart' magic. It is here, in the center of the body, that 'heart' magic flows. We call it heart magic simply because it sits directly on the point at which your heart exists. While, on the chart, its placed in the center of the body, it really exists slightly to the left alongside the heart. It is at this point that all magic within the body flows and gathers, similar to how your actual heart works. It is believed that this point is an amalgamation of all the gods contributions to humanity and other species.
Because all magic flows through this point, no specific magic is attributed to it. However, from study, we know that it resonates most strongly with two types of magic. The first, the ambiguously forbidden 'blood magic' and secondly 'light' magic. It is believed that Den contributed the most to the body and its magical points, which would properly explain why the heart resonates with light so strongly. It is not understood, however, why blood magic also resonates. This is still under research.
Congratulations! Now you know how magic works inside your body! Keep in mind, these points simply explains how magic works inside your body, how magic works outside your body- well, you'll need to take a lot more classes for that. Truth be told, I don't think we'll ever fully understand how that works.
{END}
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#ed1717
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Oct 7, 2015 1:45:17 GMT
Accepted, as long as it's recognized their may be other manifestations of magic inside the body this author doesn't know about.
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inherit
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Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
4
blacknoise
I don't have kik.
273
Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
August 2015
blacknoise
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Post by blacknoise on Oct 7, 2015 2:05:18 GMT
Indeed, though if it does manifest differently than the above, should be stated specifically in a profile, yes?
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#ed1717
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Oct 7, 2015 2:08:36 GMT
If the poster doesn't know about the above mechanics, they shouldn't have to explain on the sheet, but if asked and they decide to differ, they have to be willing to proffer an alternate mechanic.
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Sept 30, 2016 14:49:16 GMT
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CharlieGordon
28
August 2015
charliegordon
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Post by CharlieGordon on Oct 20, 2015 8:48:42 GMT
The Siege of Spriggen: by Capt. Ronnel Hausenbakke
Excerpt from the War Diaries of R. Hausenbakke
The smoke took an age to clear. Hector had set light to the fuse and ran for cover like one possessed by daemons. As the powder caught, a heartbeat’s silence resounded across the green before a cacophony of explosions that threatened to split the world in two perforated the springtime air. Barely distinguishable amongst the shattering masonry and collapsing structures were the high-pitched shrieks of the dying and the dead. Shrill, piercing lamentations as souls were wrested from ruined bodies.
The siege had lasted 3 days. Hector Gidley had volunteered to lead a party to destroy the town’s defences. They’d carried the barrels of powder right up to the outer walls the night before and rolled them into the deep latrine trench that took the town’s filth out into the River Wylder. The balmy springtime heatwave meant the squat oaken incendiaries were dry and hidden beneath a low verge of bracken and brambles that the town had neglected to hew down. An uncomfortable and restless night had followed but the rest had been easy. No pickets had spotted the fuse line trailing through the long grasses to the East of the wall and Hector’s small force had camped frugally in a neighbouring copse that remained undisturbed by defending patrols.
Lariat Woodsbane, a tall, sallow lad of Nineteen had secured the fuse and all Hector had needed was to put his tinderbox to the wire and strike the flint. As the queerly glowing flame darted away along the wire, the gang had been forced to break cover and run back towards their own lines but either they weren’t spotted or nobody reacted as not a single arrow was loosed nor alarm raised before the world was engulfed in sulphur and brimstone.
And smoke. So much smoke.
It was only two hours later that Hector joined his commander, Sermon Fisk in the Town Captain’s quarters to accept the surrender of Spriggen. The Captain, Lord Wimly Ralph knelt in chains at the foot of a narrow step in front of the Town Crest; a blue cross over a white shield on a black field with two yellow haybales foregrounded in the centre. It was totally unfearsome and spoke of the simplicity typified by these lower farming communities along the Wylder basin.
Sermon Fisk stared hard at this before glancing down at his beaten foe.
“Your people fought valiantly.” He said tonelessly, his jaw clenched stiffly. If truth be told, the 3 days lost taking this barely significant holdfast had been 3 days wasted as far as Fisk was concerned. But if the Fisks wanted to control the Western bay, they had to control the river Wylder and that included a series of these cumbersome little agricultural populations.
Finally, Wimly Ralph raised his eyes to meet Fisk’s. Pale green eyes set oddly in a ruddy aging face but they burned with green fire as they fixed their gaze on their conqueror.
“Aye, until you blew-up their homes and families. Mothers, babes in arms, children…” Ralph’s tone was even but quavered with a tremendous disdain that he barely bothered to conceal. Fisk ignored the implicature; “We require nothing of you beyond the replenishment of our provisions and your supplication and fealty Lord Ralph.” Fisk’s eyes, dark brown as maple bark, glanced past Ralph restlessly, keen to be clear of this town and onward with the war.
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Sept 30, 2016 14:49:16 GMT
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CharlieGordon
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August 2015
charliegordon
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Post by CharlieGordon on Oct 20, 2015 10:27:53 GMT
The Demise of Edward the True
Excerpt from the War Diaries of R. Hausenbakke
Edward was a young squire captured in the 1702 battle of the bog. He was fighting for Loki against the merciless Curgites and failed to retreat into the Shadow Forest with the rest of his defeated fellows. The Curgites were minded to hang Edward at the foot of Curg’s monument as a message to the onlooking Lokians.
Edward had stayed behind to try and help a young warrior girl who had been trapped under a dead horse. The girl’s father had heard that this young man from the other side had tried to help his daughter who managed to tell of Edward’s chivalry before succumbing to her injuries. The grieving father pleaded with his commander; Curgan to spare the boy who had tried to help his daughter. Curgan was the grandson of Curg himself, the mighty ruler of the northern part of the island, and he was stern and cruel. He accepted that this enemy squire had acted valiantly to a fallen enemy but insisted Edward should at least stand trial. Edward calmly accepted the invitation to a trial by combat despite having relatively little training in swordplay and no battle experience before that day.
Curgan smiled wickedly and picked his most fearsome warrior; a 7ft giant called Angel to fight young Edward. Angel had killed dozens of men and wore a gruesome necklace made of the ears of his victims. He was supposedly descended from the Angel of Death who was rumoured to have lived in the mountains over a century before. Nobody had ever dared to ask Angel himself because he couldn’t speak.
Edward sighed sadly as he shuffled forward to embrace his inevitable death. Somebody handed him a short sword and battered round shield but Edward let them hang loosely by his sides. As he looked up at Angel the huge warrior seemed to stretch on forever into the clouds. Angel held no armour except for a huge spear that must’ve been 8ft long and as thick as Edward’s thigh.
Curgan screamed for the fight to begin. The only way Edward would survive was if he could kill his mountain of an opponent with the feeble-looking handsword dangling limply from his wrist.
Angel moved like a shadow, sliding forward, he hefted his spear to waist height as easily as you like and extended its razor-sharp point as though it were part of his arm. Suddenly Angel was upon Edward, his shape swallowing everything like a great shadow of death. Edward heard himself make a dismal mewling sound as the spearhead sliced effortlessly through his leather jerkin and clean out through his back, severing Edward’s spine. And then, blackness…
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Sept 30, 2016 14:49:16 GMT
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CharlieGordon
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August 2015
charliegordon
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Post by CharlieGordon on Oct 20, 2015 10:59:10 GMT
Excerpt from the diary of Esmee Yale
I was only ten when the Carnival came to Etirath but I remember it like it were yesterday...
As I felt my father’s arm encircle me, I let out a small gasp of shock. The bustling apple-cart trundled on relentlessly as my enraged father shouted vulgar curses at the driver, before turning to me; “Are you alright Esmee?” He knelt beside me.
“I’m okay father. I was startled is all.” I smiled faintly and he turned away to check Peter was still standing beside us. I looked off in the direction of the offending cart and had to strain my eyes as the heat haze rose through the billowing dust through which the rampant crowds waded onwards towards the Palace of Theolandra; which shone like a beacon of magnificence in the distance. The market stalls were pushed flush against the terracotta paint of the low-set housefronts and there were stray dogs taking refuge beneath them from the oncoming crush; looking on meekly with black, sad eyes.
As I scanned upwards there were gaudy banners in dark green and white, the colours of the Kingdom’s crest, swaying overhead; their ribbons fluttering in the summer breeze like bunting at a harvest festival. From face to face the same happy expression reflected; as if everybody shared one delight to celebrate the glory of Etirath. More pushing and shoving meant that proceeding forward was virtually impossible as performers for the variety show tried to barge through with their juggling tools and props and an assortment of livestock whose purpose was a mystery to a 10 year old girl like me, but whose presence I enjoyed nonetheless.
Deftly, my father lugged us off to the left and into a narrow alleyway, whispering “I know a shortcut, come on!’ as we went. It was as though we’d stepped into another world. The noise, the clamour and the glaring sunlight disappeared all at once and it was like moving through silence itself as we traversed low walls and ducked under odd beams as we ghosted through the city. Peter and I laughed with the excitement of it all, it was as though the city was smuggling us in under its jumper! A notion that even now makes me chuckle as I remember that day.
We came out as quickly as we’d vanished. My eyes squinted again in the fresh assault of sunshine that greeted us, tumbling into the main square.
But what a sight to behold!
Elaborate marquees spread their capacious awnings in every direction as Peter and I gawped in wonder. There were 30 foot banners erected along the front face of the palace and an intricate wooden trellis framed a substantial makeshift stage. Such delicate little details complimented the suitably trimmed late-springtime flowers that one would be exhausted to name them. There were: little painted crests upon the fountain centrepieces; theatre performers dressed as heraldic beasts from mythology parading around the perimeter of the square; knights of the Kingdom Guard sparring in a fenced-off arena in the south corner as well as a troupe of minstrels piping up a stirring ballad about some ancient King’s late grandfather who died in a great battle many years ago.
[END OF EXCERPT]
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Sept 30, 2016 14:49:16 GMT
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CharlieGordon
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August 2015
charliegordon
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Post by CharlieGordon on Oct 20, 2015 11:09:06 GMT
Sir Kennet Nash: Explorer
Notes on my visit to the knights and horselords of 'Manrealm'...
:Human Factions:
There are 4 distinct peoples of Manrealm;
the Chevraeli- Knightly folk of Agarium, Blear, the White River basin and the Maerlen estuary. Residences extend alon the Bleakwater too and the Western 'mainland' is denoted Chevral. Its people are white-skinned with fair to swarthy complexions, golden hair is common but dark hair and occasionally silver hair is also evidenced.
These are the first real settlers of Manrealm and the abundance of water has allowed civilisation to flourish. Their agriculture is widespread and abundant and Chevral bathes in long summers with temperate climate (albeit Agarium receives significantly higher rainfall per year).
Architecture is typified by granite and white chalk buildings in the two main settlements (Agarium & Blear) with pretty wattle & daub farmsteads dotting the more rural hamlets and dwellings.
The Chevraeli know their history back 311 years to Aggon's first foundation-stone began Agarium and are a proud and civilised race. They are chivalrous to a fault and prize honour, virtue, nobility and loyalty above all else. A Chevraeli will never refuse a surrender and (some say foolishly) often take the word of others as binding as a blood-bond. To this end they are amongst the most trustworthy race on this continent, but easily exploited.
Technology is fairly advanced. Powder means that armies of Chevral contain artillery. Elaborate cannons can fire up to 24lb shot although cumbersome and prodigiously slow to reload (if cooled too quickly they are liable to split). However, their lancers are the most skilled troops in the realm and nightmarish in battle although mounts are easily frightened if positioned too close to the cannons.
Infantry are well equipped with the best steelsmiths and most expertly crafted armour in plate. They are, however, much slower owing to this and this can lead to easy outflanking if not correctly supported with cavalry.
The Equitani
The vast tracts of land spanning East from Maera along the Silver Shore to Silverbirch and West of the Redmayne. Southwards as far as the Dwarven Gulch is the region of Equitaine: Home of the Horselords.
The Equitani are a dignified, proud and hostile people. Black skinned riders with smooth bald heads, bare-breasted women with long braided night-dark curls typify the Equitani populace. Still inherently tribal across the plains, they have two main Towns via which some semblance of centralised administration is exacted. The pretty trading post of Maera sits at the mouth of the River Maerlen and marks a border with Chevral. The horselords that had ridden to treat with Aggon three centuries since built the city in a faux Chevraeli style.
This is where the tribeleaders of the region come to meet and to trade. To discuss political agendas and to pass legislation.
The ill-omened Town of Silverbirch rests at the Eastern extreme of the Silver Shore. A key strategic outpost at a crucial stage of the Demon-War, horselords shun the site now and are more wont to mingle with the Collaeri in Staleyn, a large market-town on the Northern shore of Mare's Eye.
The Equitani are a warlike race. They loathe Dwarves more than they fear demons and have fought spear and axe with the dwarves for centuries over the fertile valleys of the Dwarven Gulch; which they thing should be theirs by right because dwarves have no need of grassland. The Dwarves maintain the Gulch as an extension of the borders that grant them vast mountain-ranges at the Western and Eastern edge of the continent.
Although not as proficient an attacking force as the lancers from Chevral, Equitani legions are enormous in number and battle with them has been likened to being swarmed down upon by a maelstrom of man, beast and steel. If surprised, most forces would run from the sheer number of Equitani able to assemble at one time. The flatlands of the region allow for beacon fires to be visible for miles around and the speed at which a strike can be organised is something to behold. Whilst relations with the Chevraeli are often tense, the Equitani are relaxed about travel by other men within their borders, as long as one is open and candid about their business.
A dwarf would never stray north of the border into Equitaine and hope to survive.
Typical Equitani weapons include; spears, javelins, whips, flails. Less common are morningstars, pikestaffs and daggers
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#ed1717
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Jan 29, 2016 16:55:01 GMT
Library is updated, FINALLY! Mwahahahahaha
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inherit
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0
Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
4
blacknoise
I don't have kik.
273
Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
August 2015
blacknoise
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Post by blacknoise on Feb 8, 2016 2:39:43 GMT
Limbo, the Abyss, and the Afterlife, by Akar-Ruus
Who are you?
I am the one who walks between planes, I exist in both the afterlife and in this life. How this came to be, I do not yet understand, but I have utilized my abilities as best I can to gain a better understanding of the world after death for those who still walk here among the living.
”What is a Soul?
A Soul is, simply, a source of energy for life. It is the most powerful magic in the world, the most difficult to contain, and the most precious.
To understand the world after death, you must first understand the world around you. Every Vessel, or Body, is without exception made up of three parts. Those are as follows: The Vessel(the Body), the Spirit, and the Soul.
The Vessel is the container for the Spirit and the Soul, take care of the Vessel and you take care of the Spirit and Soul inside.
The Spirit is who you are, it is your consciousness, your emotions, your memories. Everything that makes you unique is within your Spirit, without it you would be comatose, a living corpse.
The Soul is the energy force that gives your Vessel and Spirit life. It is what allows you to utilize magic in all forms, it is what allows your body to continue living.
The Soul is not a limited source of magic like a filled cup is a limited source of water. Rather, it continually regenerates its energy as it is drawn upon. Like a cup that is filled after every usage. However, like the cup, it can break from overusage. It must be treated with care. The amount of energy a soul can contain never increases, however, the understanding and usage of that energy can change to allow a user to better utilize magic from their soul without becoming exhausted so easily.
You've likely heard of people who use 'Soul magic' by decreasing their lifespan for power. The name is a misnomer. When you overuse your Soul, you cause your Soul to draw upon the energy from your Vessel, which decreases your overall lifespan. Although your soul will heal itself over time, the energies stolen from your vessel cannot be returned.
A Vessel can live without a Spirit, but it cannot live without a Soul. The Spirit and Soul can persist for a short time without a Vessel, but will not be able to last very long without a container or curse to hold them to the physical world. A dead Vessel could still contain a Spirit, but without a Soul or a constant supply of energy, it will die. Each one can operate to a short capacity with only one other, but it takes all three to complete a being.
”What happens when we die?”
When the Vessel dies, the Spirit and Soul link themselves together for preservation and begin their journey on to Limbo, or whatever Afterlife has been prepared for them by the deity or great hero they worshipped. I cannot attest to ‘Heavens’ or ‘Hells’ existing, but I can attest that a few Spirits and Souls do not make the journey to Limbo. They are, instead, guided elsewhere, beyond my sight.
To be exact, most Souls and Spirits, a good seventy percent at least, are guided to Limbo, around five percent disappear beyond my sight, and twenty-five percent disappear into the Abyss. This is all assuming the person that has died did not die in an exceedingly tragic manner or was cursed.
Cursed Spirits and Souls roam around for all eternity, bound by their hatred and their curse until released of their burden by a mortal. Those who die tragically often become rogue spirits who cause minor harm and frighten people. Thankfully, those spirits are often guided back soon to Limbo by the one who brings peace.
”What is Limbo?”
Limbo is the ultimate destination for the soul, it is the beginning of all life energy and it is the end. It exists on a spectrum we cannot understand, it is not something we can even perceive or imagine as mortals. To image Limbo, even for one who has ‘seen’ it, is to create a false reality. Limbo is true nothingness. We can sit here and contemplate it, attempt to understand it fundamentally as a concept, but to truly understand it is to cease to exist.
Its purpose is the deconstruction of the Spirit and the Soul in order to recycle their energy for the next generation. The energy inside Limbo is infinite, a constant recycling of life on all planes of existence, nothing is exempt from it.
Limbo is not autonomous, however, it is operated by beings who are known as the ‘Overseers.’ These beings cannot be bargained with, cannot be contacted, and want for nothing. Their only purpose for existing is to continue the cycle of recycling and reincarnation that they alone are exempt from.
”Are the Divines Overseers?”
The Divines are gods in every sense of the word, but they are not Overseers. While I do not understand how, Den was allowed to draw from Limbo to create life. Or, he was given power by the Overseers. But such things are beyond our understanding.
”Can a person come back from Limbo?”
You cannot bring someone back from the dead. Even the strongest and most feared of Necromancers will tell you that, once a Spirit and Soul have passed on, they cannot be resurrected. Spirits roaming the land can be captured and returned to a Vessel with their memories more or less intact, but Spirits and Souls that have passed on to Limbo will never return. To put it more poetically, they have become one with the energy of the universe.
”You mentioned the Abyss, what is that?”
The Abyss is the closest thing to a true hell that I have ever seen. An endless well of darkness and soul energy, the Abyss is the place every evil and dark thought of humanity originates from. Legend tells that the Abyss was born from the fears and evils of Den as he cast them off in order to create a perfect humanity. The truth is, close to that, I’d wager. However, I have only had one encounter with the Abyss, an encounter I’d rather never repeat. If my spirit were not also in Limbo, it would have likely been the end of me.
”You were in the Abyss?”
Yes, for a time. Through circumstances beyond my control, I was consumed by the Abyss at one point. My memories of it are hard to formulate, but I remember the darkness. It was similar to being locked at the bottom of the ocean, it was a place light had never touched, a place light could never reach. But it was not a void, sounds, maddening pain, and the stench of death dominated my mind and body. As if I were sleeping and unable to wake up, I willed myself to move but my body did not respond.
Were it not for my Spirit being split, that would have been my end.
”Anything else?”
Don’t fear the afterlife. Death is a natural part of existence, it is a release from the pains of this world and the acceptance of a new one. You and your experiences will be done away with, every bad thing that’s ever happened to you and every bad thing you’ve ever done will be washed away. Although you may be gone, your energy will persist into new life, giving a new generation a new chance to change this world.
Hopefully, it grows for the better.
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Post by Maur on Apr 8, 2016 19:11:12 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.
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Post by Maur on Jul 12, 2016 21:20:08 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 these manuscripts, 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 and my groups 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 time 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.
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Post by Maur on Jul 12, 2016 21:23:26 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 falling 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.
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