STATUS:
I will not celebrate mediocrity. I will not worship empty shells. I will not listen to worthless noises. I will not subject myself to selected predictable choices. I will not be bought or sold.
5 yrs ago
Current
I will not celebrate mediocrity. I will not worship empty shells. I will not listen to worthless noises. I will not subject myself to selected predictable choices. I will not be bought or sold.
6 yrs ago
I've seen a person change his face like other's change their clothes.
2
likes
6 yrs ago
... The struggle between modeling, painting, writing, and creating... Oh what is a failure to do.
9
likes
6 yrs ago
Well... I think it might be time to start painting again...
6 yrs ago
Did you ever have so many hobbies you can't figure out what to do? Feeling uninspired...
Orthreloth, the capital of the Kingdom of Duringham and home to the seat of King Marcurio Thadon the twelth. A thriving metropolis that provides a prime example of a thriving economy and military might in the Midlands. While it is not the earliest constructed settlement in the Midlands it was one of the first. The city was constructed in a strategic location that exists between where the Eachine River splits from the Glomma River and where the Glomma River splits from the Massenmarch River. It is because of this particular location that the city has thrived.
Racially integrated, the city of Orthreloth is certainly a melting pot of cultural convergence. There is no specific observation of Yggdrasil although they do favor the most appealing in a positive light. It is better to have good neighbors than evil. But who is to say that more diabolical sects do not exist in the darker corners of the city. There are only two holidays that the city celebrates as a hole. These are the Royal Ascension, or the yearly anniversary of the current king’s reign. And the Festival of the Hunt, a contest in which the island is barricaded at either bridge and participants must hunt down ferocious beasts released on the island. Otherwise, celebrations are held based on personal belief.
There is little to say about the city for it is quite typical. The western edge of the river, while technically not in the assumed territory of the Kingdom is inhabited more greatly than the east. The eastern side of the river is densely populated with what would be considered a middle class socioeconomic status. The island is the residence of many upper class citizens, as the festival of the hunt is provided mostly for their entertainment. The western half of the city is a menagerie of socioeconomic status. The Castle and seat of King Thadon resides upon the hill the homes beneath it get progressively less lavish as the distance grows until the poor district is reached closest to the wall.
The river in most all locations has some jetti or dock, of course there is an official port on the south side of the wester edge of the river where the larger ships dock. The shipping industry is paramount to the settlements survival. Most of the city’s goods and migrants come in on ship as traversing great distances over Errandil can prove quite dangerous. Of course, the King levies a certain tax on goods that come into and leave the city; which can sometimes cause quite an uproar. But it is all for the greater good of the Kingdom.
Mixed within the city are a few particularly notably organizations that hold a particular sort of influence over the city’s lot whether authorized or otherwise. The Iron Veil is a guild of mercenaries or sell-swords that has a strong host in the city. At least one inn is entirely devoted to serving their cause acting as a haphazardly placed headquarters. Then is the group that calls themselves the “Men in Cloaks,” a guild of rogues and thieves that often police the poorer districts of the city as the guard is more heavily focused on the richer sides of town. Finally is Yggdrasil’s Watchful Eyes, which is the largest religious sect and denomination of Yggdrasil in the city. They command a large following as they work well throughout the city to provide religious guidance and healing through physical and sometimes arcane practices. They also maintain a vast knowledge of various schools of information, as both extremely literate and extremely pious in keeping the written word.
There are multiple points of access constructed within the twenty foot high stone walls that surround the city, with guard towers built at similar intervals. This wall is lined with archers, murder holes, and rock piles should a siege be brought upon them. But while this is the primary line of defense it is not the initial. More than a country mile beyond the walls, strategically placed to ensure line of sight are watch towers on both the western and eastern edge. In times of trouble, they are equipped with mighty brazzers that can be seen for miles in every direction. These will alert the men on the wall who will call upon the collective force of the guard and if need be an order of conscription within the city walls.
It is important to say a few things about King Marcurio Thadon, the twelfth of this name and the twelfth of his station. The crown eminents with an archaic resonance of the King’s of the past, as if they guide the current wearer from beyond the grave. The armor and accoutrements never change. Only the face. Even the name does not change. Yet, people do not question. His demeanor, attitude, and plans never change and still people do not question. It is as if the King’s spirit was lead by Yggdrasil himself, divinely inspired or communicated with every new crowned King. Of course, those who are arcanely alert may take notice of the crown specifically as it does radiat a magical presence, but if anyone has ever found anything off kilter they’ve made the decision to keep their mouth shut. Of course, regardless of why the King is now the twelfth of his name despite the physical appearance changing (sometimes drastically), the King has never shown any signs of evil intentions towards his people. In short, the King is a continual beacon of hope for his people.
Gilgondorin. It would seem as though a map has never made it beyond the borders of the Massif. Little is truly known about the composition of the great crater-city and even less is known of its origin. While people have proclaimed to have been from the city, some of the most unscrupulous people this person has ever had the displeasure of encountering, such things have never been proven. Subsequently, it is believed that individuals who inhabit the crater-city never reach beyond the borders of the Massif. The only notable information known is that of its appearance and the mystery of its origins.
Some scholars suggest that Gilgondorin is the oldest known settlement of the land. However, those very same scholars have no understanding of who established it or how it came to be. They suggest that this settlement was birthed out of the “Long Night,” when the warmth of the sun had been stolen away from the night and even the southern Midlands were blanketed in a gray hue that fell from the sky but was said to not belong on this land. A spell of clairvoyance provided the only known representation of the strange city, but it was proclaimed that the seer who was so bold had died only a few short moments after seeing the structures. In fact, it took mage of necromancy to learn the truth. A portion of history that dare not be spoken lightly, not under the blessing of Yggdrasil. A massive floating structure, tethered to the land by chains, suspending over a settlement of stone structures secluded by a great crater that extends far away from the city walls.
So what is inferred about the settlement given those who have been encountered with stories of Gilgondorin? Quite frankly, it is a dangerous and unsavory place. It is presumed that the settlement is chaotic and unlawful with an evil ruler who maintains control by power and fear. A settlement of murderers, thieves, and other thugs and rapscallions. It is a place that no normal person could feel comfortable inhabiting. All the concrete evidence needed is discerned from that understanding that every scholarly expedition made into the Massif and towards the discovery of the truth concerning Gilgondorin has been fruitless, with those travelers never to be seen again.
The Midlands makes up the majority of the landmass that is Errandil, covering more than fifty percent of the continent. The fine prairie and wild savannahs of the Midlands spread from the desert wastelands in the south to the frozen mountains that border the northlands with a variety of forested and hillbourne regions in between. Grazing creatures meander through the wilderness feeding upon the tall grass while predatory beasts lay in wait for the perfect time to strike. Men and other humanoids till the soil, exploiting the fertile soil surrounding the miles of river that carve through the Midlands surface. While not the only cradle of life on Errandil, the Midlands certainly encompass the most wide array of surface dwelling creatures.
The southern half of the Midlands is also known as the great river basin as it provides ample room for the flood waters that rush from the northern mountains during the warmer months as refurbishes the nutrient depleted soils that allow for such booming civilizations to have formed. The southern Midlands is considered anything south of the Massenmarch and Glomma Rivers, which includes the Glandrather Forest and the Forest of Spirits. Subsequently, the southern Midlands borders what is named the Wastelands as well as the unnamed wastes to the south. It is typically believed that the forests belong to the Elves, although there is a certain level of unspoken understanding that man be able to traverse the woods without harm presuming they remain peaceful. Whereas man is more partial to the grasslands, which is where most humanoid civilizations are found.
The northern half of the Midlands known as the Northern Steppe exists on the northside of the natural border created by the Massenmarch and Glomma Rivers. It too thrives over the rising river waters of the warmer months that present with the northern mountains melt, but the climate is much cooler boasting a greater appreciation for the seasonal sun that presents during the summer months. The major areas of the north include the northern foothills, the Lowlands of Khinasi, the Peacewood Forest and the Aelvenwode. Its most notable borders are the mountains that separate it from the Northlands and the Aelvenwode itself. Unlike the forests of the southlands, the Aelvenwode boasts a group of elves that are extremely territorial and are protective of their home. There is always a very real threat of death for any non-elven blooded being to breach its borders, and oftentimes the tension between the two civilizations is thick enough to threaten war.
Over all the climate is fairly typical. Warm winds blow in from over the ocean off the eastern shore bring intense and abundant storms. These storms typically miss the area closest to the shore, growing as it follows the rivers west or turning up towards the north. Of course, these storms form all along the coastline typically battering the Midlands but occasionally reaching the mountain passes before letting loose. The north is most certainly hit harder than the south as the storms from the lower portion of the coastline are swiftly blown to the north. The southern half typically misses out on the snowy winters of the north, with the exception of the occasional clipper or artic vortex. But even then, it is typically only the tips furthest north of the southern midlands.
"Men are haunted by the vastness of eternity. And so we ask ourselves, Will our writing echo across the centuries? Will strangers hear our names long after we're gone and wonder who we were, how bravely our characters fought, how fiercely they love loved?"
--{ * * * * * * * * * * }--
How else is there to begin? Welcome to Errandil. For those of you who are new, that is "er-an-dill." A world that appears clean and crisp on the surface but suffers from the terrible proverb of "do not judge a book by its cover." For lurking in the shadows is a darkness that terrifies even the hardiest of warriors. A place that clings to the light that shines brightly behind the protection of man, but quivers with fear as the shadow creeps from the dark recesses of the land. A fragile silence weighs heavily on the minds of those who even find themselves defended by high walls or well-honed arrows. Pray to Yggdrasil for those who do not have the means to erect such grand structures. Despite Yggdrasil's blessing, a foul darkness ebbs and flows like the tides of the ocean descending upon the land like a hurricane swollen from the warm waters off the southern eastern coast of the midlands.
Of course, as is often the case with men there is always an uneasiness wafting through the air of any relationship. Ruled by King Marcurio Thadon the Twelth, the Kingdom of Duringham finds little oddity in a succession of kings with the same name, personality, and mission; the only thing changing is his appearance. The Erikol Empire to the north is one step away from declaring open war on the Aelvenwode. Meanwhile, the eastern edge of the land is consumed in turmoil as the United Seven Clans of the Mist Moors vie for control over the Fingers of Avan against the southern empire of Vog Mur. Such a bloody pursuit over what is believed to be the primary cradle of life only lasts as long as the Clans can maintain their fragile alliance. There are other lands to explore; the NOrthlands, the Massif, the Wastelands, or the plethora of mountain ranges in between. Errandil is anything but short on adventure or intrigue.
Will you be brave enough to pick up a blade and defend the people of the Kingdom of Duringham against the impending darkness? Will you stand against the Empire and fight the propaganda against the Aelvenwode? Or will you sit in wait, looking for the perfect time to strike against the clans and shatter the glass bubble that binds them together. Regardless of the choices made, there is plenty of room and plenty of discoveries to be made. Hoow will you play your part?
--{ * * * * * * * * * * }--
The World of Errandil is a player constructed Persistent World set in a rich world of deep fantasy. The most prominent feature of a Persistent World is that every action influences the world that the next action takes place in. This is to suggest that a single character could be born, raised, adventure, and die in the same world and influence that world from one city to the next. A player can create monsters, artifacts, or even cities of their own styling assuming they don't oppose the sanctity of the world's genre. Finally, as a character passes they are not merely forgotten but they live on in the memories they impart upon the world.
As players we obviously play as characters and participate as game masters. But likewise, we also build the world we play in. But we do not create needlessly. If we find that a current settlement or defined area would suffice, we populate it and flesh it out exploit the work already done and making a small part of it our own. If not, we may build a small part of the world to fit our own agenda then allow it to enter the pool of background information that someone else may help flesh out. As players and creators our goal is to build a persistent world that sustains itself with life and adventure as we see fit. Reasonable within the setting of course.
What we lack in formalities upon the guild, mainly our own categories and sub-boards, we can make up for in participation and camaraderie. We will exploit this article page to maintain our collective work. We can link this page to the threads we create, not only making any background information easily uncovered but also spread the word of our creation. Most importantly, we welcome all reasonable creative additions to the world. This vision can be shared by all and those who would enjoy an attempt to create a persistent world beyond the available science fiction.
If you are looking to add content to Errandil that is not covered by the already exploited topics consider these possible topics to add content to...
Alchemical Potions
Diseases and Maladies
Deities and Priesthoods
Flora and Fauna
Errandil Law
Kingdoms, Countries, and Empires
Items of Note
Magic, Psionics and other Arcane Mysteries
Organizations and Orders
Poisons, Herbs, and other Chemicals
Scrolls and Tomes
Special Events
§3.1(a) All rules established by the Roleplayer's Guild administration, still hold true where applicable whilst using this setting.
§3.1(b) A moderating team will be appointed if and when the need arises. Their responsibilities will be defined if and when that need arises.
§3.1(c) This setting may be exploited at any level of role play. While a high casual or advanced level of writing would be preferred, even those that prefer a free style of role play would be acceptable as long as it doesn't sour the heart of the setting.
§3.1(d) Anyone may freely use this setting. The only caveat is that it is vehemently preferred that the game master contact a setting moderator so that it may be recorded appropriately. It is also useful to establish a background assistant early should setting-specific questions arise.
§3.1(e) Finally, in order for this to work as both a persistent world and a collaborative environmental setting it must be understood that any work regarding this setting, regardless of who creates it may belong to and be absorbed by this setting. Subsequently, that information will end up as a part of this article.
§3.1(e)(1) An appeal may be made to the moderation staff of this setting if an author wishes to exclude their personally created information from this article and subsequently this setting. It must be made through a PM. This is to maintain a written record of the requests but more importantly to ensure that the author's intentions are understood.
§3.2(a) Background information will be reviewed with an intermediate level of scrutiny. This means that the creation/information must have a substantially founded basis in the setting and the moderating staff most have an important and reasonable interest in rejecting information.
§3.2(a)(1) There are currently no requirements for background information. However, as writers it should be apparent that a certain level of specificity is required. More is better to explain whatever it is that is being created, but it is important to know when enough is enough. It is important to leave room for writer's to extrapolate with a certain creative license rather than define every aspect of their environment with no wiggle room.
§3.2(b) Background information may be created and submitted at any time either through an existing role playing thread or by sending a PM to any of the moderating staff.
§3.2(b)(1) Background information created as a part of a role playing thread does not require approval. However, the moderators of the setting will reserve the right to negate or demand alterations for information that is contrary to previously established information or goes against the heart and intent of the setting.
§3.2(b)(2) Background information submitted through PM may be rejected or may require alteration before acceptance is made. The staff member rejecting or requesting alteration should be as specific as possible regarding why the decision or request is made.
§3.2(b)(3) Submissions rejected may not be arbitrary submitted again (if a change is not requested) nor may they be submitted to another moderator for approval.
§3.2(c) There is no setting specific character sheet required to participate. However, game masters are free to provide character sheet requirements as they see fit for their own personal tastes.
§3.2(c)(1) Characters developed for use in this setting will be assembled in this article credit given to the original author. These unfortunately may not be requested for removal. Upon acceptance the character becomes a part of the setting and will live and die within its confines.
§3.2(c)(2) Characters need not only be submitted via role playing thread. Character sheets may also be submitted via PM to one of the moderating staff who will review the character sheet through a scope of rational-review where the character must be rationally related to the setting and must have a legitimate interest in rejection.
§3.2(c)(3) Examples of character information that may be required include; biographical information, background information, personality, strengths, weaknesses, flaws, typical equipment, or known magics. This list is meant to be suggestive and is in no way totally inclusive.
§3.2(d) Environmental background (I.E. settlements, regions, soveriegn states) should not be fleshed out needlessly. It is important that those areas already established be reasonably fleshed out before moving on to less discovered areas. Exploit that which is developed to assist in keeping the setting alive and moving forward.
§3.2(e) At any time the moderating staff may temporarily or permanent put submissions to a certain background section to an end. This simply implies that there is too much information in one given section, subsequently it is asked that the other sections be pursued if desired.
§3.2(e)(1) At any time an appeal may be made under strict scrutiny to allow the acceptance of background information into a closed section. Strict scrutiny implies that the creation is narrowly tailored and meets a compelling interest towards inclusion.
§3.2(e)(2) In this instance, the burden of proof is placed upon the applicant with the presumption that rejection is required unless the strict scrutiny is overcome. All decisions are final.
§3.3(a) The most important aspect of a persistent world revolves around the keeping of time as well as use of various quests or event. It is very important that as a collective we maintain at least casual contact to ensure proper record keeping (to maintain the timeline) as well as to establish a strong sense of immersion with the setting.
§3.3(b) There are four types of events; global, regional, local, and personal.
§3.3(b)(1) Global Events are those events that influence Errandil as a whole. A war like the that seen in Lord of the Rings or similar things. These events alter the setting during and after the event, a world changer. These events may take place over several threads or merely one. Global threads are mandated to be the territory of the setting moderators only. Absolutely no objections.
§3.3(b)(2) Regional Events are those events that influence specific regions of Errandil. Perhaps a dam is built near the northern mountains, or the seven tribes of Mist Moors collective march on the peoples of Vog Mur to secure the Fingers of Avan. These events will alter those particular environments involved, reducing a population or changing a seat of power. These event may take place over several threads or merely one. These events can be mastered by a non-moderating member with prior permission but preferrably in a group with a moderator sitting as second chair.
§3.3(b)(3) Local Events are those events that influence settlements or other local, concise areas. The Men in Cloaks turn against the people, or the people revolt against a thieving baron. These events will alter the inner workings of the settlement, or in the worst situations may destroy it in some way or another. These events may alter local power figures or influence an influx of crime or soldiers. These events typically take place in a single thread. These events can be mastered by a non-moderating member and without a second chair. However, if these local events result in the destruction of major settlements or subsequent catastrophic events need to be discussed with a moderating member.
§3.3(b)(4) Personal Events are those events that revolve around particular characters rather than points on the map. These typically only influence character expansion, growth, and relationships. While the decisions made may impact a particular settlement or area, rarely would they be so immense that they'd change the tides of a war directly or collapse an empire. These events typically take place in a single thread. These events can be mastered by a non-moderating member and without a second chair.
§3.4(a) Chronology, typically the study of time but in this case it'll be used as a synonym for a simple timeline. The order in which events take place. This is one of the most crucial differences between a typical thread and one that takes place in a persistent world. But this is also one of the most difficult to handle. It is because of this aspect that contact amongst players is crucial.
§3.4(b) The position any event takes on the timeline of Errandil will mainly be based on the type of event. Since we'd rather not meander around the Guild with date and time stamps to identify what events happened first or what events happened when, we'll make due with those chronological indicators that we have.
§3.4(b)(1) Major movements on the timeline will be denoted by global events. Consider this concept something like an era or age. There will not be an initial global event so consider that point zero on the timeline. But as events unfold and things take place, something will come to fruition.
§3.4(b)(2) Regional events will define a smaller yet the largest window that may be seen more regularly. Because these things come in the shape of wars, political upheavel, and traumatic events they will act as the most prominent time markers.
§3.4(b)(3) Finally, on our time line will be the local events. These events should be the most prevalent as they should act as a both the crescendo and the diminuendo to the regional events. With any luck, these events will bring enough of us together to really fuel the idea of a persistent world. Local events will be defined as happening before, during, or after these local events.
§3.4(b)(4) Because personal events revolve around such a minute collection of characters and reasonings that may be more diverse than the dotted line that is require to connect the local events to the regional that they fuel, personal events will not be tracked on our timeline.
§3.4(b)(4)(a) The exception being that these personal events strongly impact local event that would subsequently lead up to or act as a necessary precursor for that local event.
§3.4(c) Communication in respect to the timeline is crucial for appropriate tracking. This collective timeline that helps shape the world of Errandil must be a group effort. It is the shaping of this world that will separate this setting from other Persistent Worlds.
§3.4(c)(1) Upon the personal decision to exploit this setting, it is paramount that the game master contact a setting administrator to ensure that note is made. The only purpose of this is to ensure that the thread is included in the time, and that the heart of the setting is being appeased.
§3.4(c)(2) If discovery is made that the setting is being exploited without notice for the timelines purpose, a warning will be had. A single warning. Subsequent offenses will bar the user from acting as game master in future threads. While a user obviously cannot be banned in any official sense, any thread mastered by the offender will be disavowed by the mods and this setting.
§3.4(c)(3) If discover is made that the setting is being bastardized by any user, they will be immediately banned from exploiting the setting as a game master. Subsequent abuse of the setting will result in banishment from the setting all together.
The subsections each character loosely represents the character's most specific affiliation. Subsections will be added as necessary.
The subsection each role play is listed under loosely represents the threads starting location but in no way restricts the journey of that thread to the aforementioned subsection. Parentheticals after a threads title are abbreviations denoting the type of the event.
The room that Rohaan would come to observe was small, perhaps a little more than a fairly large closet. A casual observer would find a single bed just as thin and lumpy as the others, if only a little better dressed than those seen in the common sleeping quarters. A single bedside table with a couple of draws and a single book resting on its surface; “Life as Written by Yggdrasil.” It was a religious text purportedly written by the Protector and Preserver of Life itself. While well maintained and properly cared for, it was a book that Xander would leave undisturbed in its locations. A single object weapons rack was built into the wall beside a standing coat rack in the corner beside it. The room was entered and exited by the same wooden door, typically smaller than an average door but functional nevertheless, and it came with a lock. The latter detail was of particular importance to Xander.
Upon speaking his words, Xander began to stir from his restful sprawled out position on his belly. He withdrew his exposed arms from above his head, the armor like scales of his left arm catching on the rough spun sheet that covered the hay that had been used for stuffing. He pulled them beneath himself slowly, confused as to what had aroused him from his sleep. A voice? A familiar voice, but an oddity as he had locked the door before closing his eyes. Staring at his pillow while pushing his chest up off the “mattress,” the young boy’s breathing began to quicken and his heart to race. Fear was slowly setting in, washing over the fog of sleep.
Then the boy turned his attention towards the wafting breeze come from the open window set more towards the ceiling. His fear turned to panic. Not because he was worried that he might be in danger. Rohaan had helped Xander to turn his xenophobia into something more of a nuisance rather than an irrational fear. For the first time the darkness slowly devouring his arm had been entirely visible, accentuated even by the warmth of the morning sun that he would not even feel. Quickly the boy pulled it to his abdomen attempting to conceal it in the folds of his undershirt.
“How’d you get up here?” Xander yawned looking towards the locked door. Obviously, he had momentarily forgotten the greater details of the previous nights conversation.
The young boy did not wait for an answer. He had his own insecurities to deal with. The boy moved to the coat rack in the corner, pulling from it a durable travel cloak and wrapped it around his shoulders, securing it quickly at the neck. With his scarred arm concealed once again, Xander took a better look at his friend. He eyed the knife with a certain level of admiration, less so because of its viability as a weapon but because of the level of character Rohaan had shown in providing it. Reaching up Xander caught the blade in his clean hand only a split second after his new friend had released it.
Holding the small knife, perhaps a utility blade for performing odd jobs Xander thought of the implications. ”Hidden… he considered before crouching down and concealing the blade against his leg on the inside of his boot. A fitting place for such a subtle blade. Of course, it would not act as his primary weapon. Xander turned his attention towards the sheathed short sword hanging on the weapons’ rack.
”Suppose we should eat ‘fore we go? Keep it light?”
The Midlands makes up the majority of the landmass that is Errandil, covering more than fifty percent of the continent. The fine prairie and wild savannahs of the Midlands spread from the desert wastelands in the south to the frozen mountains that border the northlands with a variety of forested and hillbourne regions in between. Grazing creatures meander through the wilderness feeding upon the tall grass while predatory beasts lay in wait for the perfect time to strike. Men and other humanoids till the soil, exploiting the fertile soil surrounding the miles of river that carve through the Midlands surface. While not the only cradle of life on Errandil, the Midlands certainly encompass the most wide array of surface dwelling creatures.
The southern half of the Midlands is also known as the great river basin as it provides ample room for the flood waters that rush from the northern mountains during the warmer months as refurbishes the nutrient depleted soils that allow for such booming civilizations to have formed. The southern Midlands is considered anything south of the Massenmarch and Glomma Rivers, which includes the Glandrather Forest and the Forest of Spirits. Subsequently, the southern Midlands borders what is named the Wastelands as well as the unnamed wastes to the south. It is typically believed that the forests belong to the Elves, although there is a certain level of unspoken understanding that man be able to traverse the woods without harm presuming they remain peaceful. Whereas man is more partial to the grasslands, which is where most humanoid civilizations are found.
The northern half of the Midlands known as the Northern Steppe exists on the northside of the natural border created by the Massenmarch and Glomma Rivers. It too thrives over the rising river waters of the warmer months that present with the northern mountains melt, but the climate is much cooler boasting a greater appreciation for the seasonal sun that presents during the summer months. The major areas of the north include the northern foothills, the Lowlands of Khinasi, the Peacewood Forest and the Aelvenwode. Its most notable borders are the mountains that separate it from the Northlands and the Aelvenwode itself. Unlike the forests of the southlands, the Aelvenwode boasts a group of elves that are extremely territorial and are protective of their home. There is always a very real threat of death for any non-elven blooded being to breach its borders, and oftentimes the tension between the two civilizations is thick enough to threaten war.
Over all the climate is fairly typical. Warm winds blow in from over the ocean off the eastern shore bring intense and abundant storms. These storms typically miss the area closest to the shore, growing as it follows the rivers west or turning up towards the north. Of course, these storms form all along the coastline typically battering the Midlands but occasionally reaching the mountain passes before letting loose. The north is most certainly hit harder than the south as the storms from the lower portion of the coastline are swiftly blown to the north. The southern half typically misses out on the snowy winters of the north, with the exception of the occasional clipper or artic vortex. But even then, it is typically only the tips furthest north of the southern midlands.
Gilgondorin. It would seem as though a map has never made it beyond the borders of the Massif. Little is truly known about the composition of the great crater-city and even less is known of its origin. While people have proclaimed to have been from the city, some of the most unscrupulous people this person has ever had the displeasure of encountering, such things have never been proven. Subsequently, it is believed that individuals who inhabit the crater-city never reach beyond the borders of the Massif. The only notable information known is that of its appearance and the mystery of its origins.
Some scholars suggest that Gilgondorin is the oldest known settlement of the land. However, those very same scholars have no understanding of who established it or how it came to be. They suggest that this settlement was birthed out of the “Long Night,” when the warmth of the sun had been stolen away from the night and even the southern Midlands were blanketed in a gray hue that fell from the sky but was said to not belong on this land. A spell of clairvoyance provided the only known representation of the strange city, but it was proclaimed that the seer who was so bold had died only a few short moments after seeing the structures. In fact, it took mage of necromancy to learn the truth. A portion of history that dare not be spoken lightly, not under the blessing of Yggdrasil. A massive floating structure, tethered to the land by chains, suspending over a settlement of stone structures secluded by a great crater that extends far away from the city walls.
So what is inferred about the settlement given those who have been encountered with stories of Gilgondorin? Quite frankly, it is a dangerous and unsavory place. It is presumed that the settlement is chaotic and unlawful with an evil ruler who maintains control by power and fear. A settlement of murderers, thieves, and other thugs and rapscallions. It is a place that no normal person could feel comfortable inhabiting. All the concrete evidence needed is discerned from that understanding that every scholarly expedition made into the Massif and towards the discovery of the truth concerning Gilgondorin has been fruitless, with those travelers never to be seen again.
Essentially, the entire repertoire of a seemingly lifelong criminal. Xander found it to be quite an oddity. He may have been young, but he was far from naive to the ways of the world. Being on the outskirts of the Kingdom, he had the opportunity to encounter a number of people that might be included in the seedy underbelly of the southern Midlands. But there was a major difference in the encounters Xander had with those individuals, and the one he was having with Rio. Those individuals he had encountered in Pyre, were more secretive of their past. They had even gone so far as to hide it, or at the very least refrain from talking to it all together. But this man, a career criminal it seemed like was more attuned to disclosure.
Of course, his eyes did not widen as the story went on. But his face did contort into something of disbelief. Some men, Xander had heard, would openly boast about their exploits using events that they were not personally present or accountable for to boost their reputation and avoid unnecessary confrontation. It was a common occurrence amongst some of the more lackluster individuals of Pyre who were attempting to avoid some rapscallion or attention from the wrong people. Some of these things they spoke of, never happened all together. But why would Rio need to make use of such tactics with him? Xander was but a child trying to save his sister, certainly no competition for a full grown experienced warrior. Perhaps it was some sort of “cool-factor” that Xander was not aware of?
Such a bold mention of “shape-shifter” and “black blood” had struck him as odd. Shape shifters were infamous in his hometown. Exclamations of snatching up naughty children from their bed or those who wandered too far beyond the boundaries of their territory. Of course, those old wife's tales were often attributed to condemnations by the teachings of Yggdrasil. A belief that Xander had disregarded when he left. Descriptors such as “black” or “dark” blood were often times spoken in hushed tones. This Xander knew personally, although he was not so quick to disperse with that information. As it were, Rio did not appear to have the black blood as he did beneath his cloak. There was no way to argue against it without further proof.
It was simple. Xander believed no such nonsense. Criminal he may have been, he could believe this. But a shape-shifter and a black blood, well, those were harder pills to swallow and Xander did not have the stomach for it.
Xander stood up, turning his back to the flames of the hearth. “I can’t think of anything more dangerous than facing darkness in the eye.” He made sure that his left arm had been concealed beneath the mundane cloth, “I can’t think of anything that makes me more worthy than surviving that meeting.” He leaned in, locking his gaze with Rio’s which allowed him to take note of the powerful blue hue to the man’s eyes. At the same time, it exposed the slash of black scale like flesh noting a touch of darkness upon his face to be scrutinized. “And since you offer, I would be stupid to turn down your company.”
He took a few steps back to allow a comfortable space between the two of them, “I’ve got me a tiny private room up the stairs, end of the hall. A bit pricey…. Maybe I shouldn’t have…” Xander bit his bottom lip as he turned his view to his feet slightly ashamed at such wasteful spending. “It’s at the top of the stairs, third floor, end of the hall. I got a window too.”
The boy turned away and began the short journey to his room.
”Sarah!” Xander yelled, his back pushed against the exterior of his hamlet farmhouse.
”Heheheh...No Sarah ‘ere ta save ya now boy…” The grotesque darkness addled beast growled. The creature, humanoid in form but more darkness than man took a step closer slowly pulling a crude curved short sword from its belt. Bearing its blood stained yellow fangs, the strange beast of pale green skin seemingly decayed and stretched over his sinew and bone cackled with glee. Its body covered in cloth and loose hanging bandages, large bat like ears lined with golden rings. Incandescent eyes of topaz, peered through Xander’s skin fueling the slobbering jaws that moved just enough to allow its pointed tongue to flick a wet tongue over its dry teeth.
Slowly the creature raised the rusty steel blade above its head, glistening in the moonlight. Above its head, the blade wavered. It’s adjusted and tightened. The blade fell from its clawed hand. Its eyes spread wide. Its jaw went slack and a blade erupted from its chest, black blood dripping over the nearly forged steel.
”Come on Xander,” a feminine voice cried out in panic, “we have to move!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
That was only the first time she had saved him that night. The creatures had swept across the hamlet in the late evening as people were winding down from their evening meal enjoying the crisp summer air. They were not equipped to burn. Such fires would betray the darkness as it moved in secret. But they began by gutting the homes closest to the forest before moving into the hamlet proper before. Two guardsmen on duty. They couldn’t even sound the conscription alarm. The tailor had done that before he was cut down with the guards standing only a few yards away. Of course, they were fighting their own battles.
Despite how fast Xander and his sister fled, they had no one to run to. Their parents had been entangled in their own battle. They had been trained to fight to a certain extent, but none of it could have prepared them to combat the darkness. The first had only been slain because she had feared the loss of her baby brother. Subsequent encounters had not gone so well. Evasive maneuvers, parry, dodge, feint… both of them had learned them all to varying degrees. But there were too many of them. Every scatter point seemed to lead them to another encounter.
So they did what children do when they have nowhere else to turn. They stopped running and they hid. They used their knowledge of the hamlet and found themselves a quiet place to hide. Their biggest danger had been their inability to see. From their nook upon the storage space of a barn, nestled in amongst the bales of hay they could not keep track of their enemy. As they were laying in wait, hidden, the adrenaline had begun to wear off and a drip of blood tickled Xander’s leg. A drip of blood that had fallen from a gash on the girl’s arm. His sister’s arm.
But the darkness moves like a wave. It had swept over the hamlet of Pyre, taking with it whatever lacked the strength to prevail. But it would not recede back to the forest from which it came as though it were the ocean. Instead, it pressed onward as if it were still cresting along the plains of the southern Midlands.
While Pyre gathered its dead and made its dying comfortable, the darkness moved on. Rumors spread quickly that the King’s riders on a routine patrol had come across their path and quickly thwarted the threat. Word of mouth suggested that they had not left a single monster to roam the land. Of course, Xander had not the means to go carousing through the grasslands to see his vengeance fulfilled.
Looking up from the floor Xander turned to face Rio. His eyes determined, and he spoke sternly trying contain the apprehension in his voice.
It was still relatively early in the evening. The bar had not begun to wind down for the evening. Mugs of ale chimed against the wooden table tops as they were emptied. Spoons clattered against bowls. Boisterous laughter reverberated through the rafters. Various noises common to this type of establishment echoed off the walls. They were cheerful, amicable at worst but even those who struggled to handle their alcohol were enjoying a joyous occasion.
But then the room fell silent, or so it would seem. As Xander’s thoughts coalesced into words, he felt as though all eyes had fallen upon him. He felt as though everyone was looking to him for the answer to a question that scholars had been pondering for centuries. It was a question that he did not have the answer to, only a passing fancy taken from an excerpt in a book written in a language known only to a few all across the Midlands, north or south. But he would not give it to them willingly.
Xander took a mouthful of ale, puffing his cheeks outs like a rodent before forcing the liquid down his throat in one painful gulp. It was a gulp too big for his adolescent throat. The pain was apparent in his clenched eyes that blinked furiously as he wavered his head from one side to the other.
“You’re not from around here, are you? North Midlands, the Glandrather… it doesn’t matter", Xander began as he scanned the room to be sure his delusions were just that. "I have - a plan.”
He was just shy of being a teenager. He was alone. He had only one reason to go back to Pyre and only one reason to continue forward. Which was bigger? Spend what little time she may have had in this world and watch his sister die or struggle with the fear of losing her while trying to save her with the only lead he had.
“I’m going to the Capital.” Xander began, as that is where his plan would either end or continue. “My sister is sick. She got it from those things that creep around the wood, carrying the darkness.” Xander took another drink before setting his empty mug down on the table between them. He leaned in closer to the new acquaintance, “Before I left Pyre, Maestra Luna showed m a book. It was old. Put together in a way I’ve never seen before.” Xander turned away for only a second to ensure that no one had wandered to close. “Her translation said with a potion, the darkness can be stopped.”
With his free hand, his right hand the boy reached into his belt and pulled out a piece of parchment. On either side were multiple drawings related to two separate plants. Each side depicted representations of their leaves, roots, flowers, and last known locations at least according to the translation now written in the common tongue. Xander offered it to Rio with no inclination or concern as to whether or not he would be able to make heads or tails of it.
“The Maestra thought the Great Athenaeum in Orthreloth would have more information. It was the only direction she could give me.”
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