Oraculum

A Cosmic Disturbance (Oraculum et Turbowraith)

It lives! (Run for your lives, or whatever surrogates you may have recklessly accepted in their stead!)

A Cosmic Disturbance (Oraculum et Turbowraith)

Through us, the cosmos sees itself, and recoils in terror.

-Karolus the Pagan, De rebus occultis arcanisque

Find we ourselves in a dark place, and lights a little more knowledge our way. Would we that was it not so.

-Yeti Master Oy-ad (VSO)

The cosmos. Incommensurably and unfathomably vast, and yet familiar for want of experiences extraneous to it. Although we may never sound its furthermost reaches, if of furthermost we can speak at all concerning an entity which may be unbounded, nor learn of all its evolutions and vicissitudes through aeons untold, there is nothing we know and cherish that was not wrought within its bountiful domain, where we ourselves run the course of our limited yet all-encompassing lives. Nothing has ever touched our knowledge that was not born of the very universe we tread within, and which permeates all there might be rightly said to pertain to our existence. We are one with its being, its matter and its form, and it was it which taught us that all things are or are not - that there are voids of cold and darkness, barren of all which we conceive to be bound with our living world, and that likewise there surround us countless multifarious wonders of substance. The cosmos is all to us - our cradle, our grave, our home; and yet...

...And yet, the cradle and the grave would not be such were there something which is not a cradle or a grave, even though their tenants be unaware of it; and that which is all to us may not be all, or, indeed, be at all, to something which is itself not us. To every home there is a stranger; and, however immense the cosmos might be, the mind struggles to rid itself of the ever-returning interrogative of what there is beyond its limits, whether it have any or not. An idle question, it might appear, and mayhap it is so; yet its persistence is as unyielding as curiosity itself, and as curiosity reckless. For it might be that certain things it is not meet for a dweller of the universe to light upon other than in conjecture, if even thus: for if one thinks overlong of the abyss, it can so happen that the abyss think back.

Amidst the palely gleaming suns of distant galaxies, untroubled by the placid grinding of the celestial spheres, the void hovered in its quintessential nonexistence, no shard or speck of astral detritus drifting to mar the absolute perfection of its inmost nature. A stillness unbroken for epochs beyond reckoning hung over the expanse rent by wandering rays of light, its ever-shifting confines flowing at tremendous speed unperceived, yet perpetually frozen in a curious regularity of demarcation. Patterns ephemeral and inconceivable wove themselves in a matter of instants and dissolved just as suddenly, their vortices of generation and renewal seemingly chaotic, yet in truth governed by laws so ancient and fundamental that their origin could scarcely be even guessed at by the cognition of the flitting motes of vitality which peopled certain sparse nooks of this grandiose design. The cosmos lived and breathed in this strange regularity, its motions seeding the shapes of matter with new variations, and in turn by them revitalised and given structure and purpose. The universal cycle thrived in its own circularity, and with it all that was contained therein thrived also.

Anon, there seemed to come a subtle change over the scene. An unseen shadow flitted over the still radiance of the far-off stars; the flight of the spheres grew infinitesimally slower with anticipation; the great rhythmic patterns pulsed interrogatively, almost stopping in their tracks. Moments or ages, which was all one in the shifting immutability, swept by; then, there was something. One could not say whether it had come as an encroaching advance, or had been as abrupt as the incineration of a dying world, nor if it was indeed there, or that was a mere reflection of something galaxies away, nor, indeed, what it was; all that was certain about it, if certainty could there be, was that it was where nothing had been, and, indeed, should have been. The void was no longer void, and yet, through some suspension of its inmost principles, it remained void, and such a suspension was dreadful to imagine. All the while, there was no presence or entity to fill it; all there was was an emptiness which was empty no longer.

Then it came. A distortion given shapeless form, undulating as a stellar ocean of aethereal taint, spreading ravenously as a tumorous growth festering on incorruptible regularities. Welling from the abnormality of the defiled void in cacophonic silence, an un-thing which could not have been, for no language, conceivable or not, could have expressed its modality of transcosmic being-without-being, clutched with concave, curvilinearly angular extensions at the heat of stars and the shadows of drifting planets to pull its mass, or rather its conspicuous lack thereof, through a gateway which could not have been opened, for it did not exist. Its impossible presence grew with such rapidity that there could be no mention of speed in a thorough, if futile, attempt to describe it, enshrouding increasingly vast fractions of infinity, till it could have been apparent that the absence of any limits was yet a limit too harsh for its tremendous expansion to suffer. The Un-Thing's immobile forms writhed in quiescent frenzy, reaching for depths of dimension the cosmos could not have, and shaping them where they failed to find them. Though it could not be otherwise than satiated, it craved more - more of what was beyond all, yet, failing that, of all itself. And all the while, the torn, mangled shreds of the universe's patterns no longer sang, but, shrinking from a hunger which could not be sated for it never could have been there, murmured in unutterable, crushing dread one thing, and one thing only:

The Outsider is within.

Kill the Heroes! (Sorry, we're full for now)

That is not dead which can eternal lie,
And with strange aeons even death may die.

Legend of the Silver Legion (A Fantasy RP)

Eastern Wastes, beyond the Fell Lands

Although it was already a few hours past midday, the sun, hanging high in the clear yet pale sky, did not beat mercilessly upon the group's heads, but glimmered whitely through the blurred haze it was itself casting, its light spreading so pervasively through the heavens that it almost seemed to efface itself in its own radiance. Beneath it, the dry brown soil, whose firm consistence had crumbled after ages of exposure to the elements and been reduced to a thick, granulose dust, creaked softly under their steps as their feet arose from misshapen tracks. A heavy silence hung over the arid earth; aside from the sound of their advance, only the loud, rasping breathing of the hulking crustacean-like behemoths in the rear-guard could be heard. Nor was there anything in sight which might have been alive, save for the troop itself. Not a shrub, nor even a desiccated tree-stump or an insect crawling over the cracked surface of the desolation. These lands were barren even compared to the Fell Lords' domain; so barren, indeed, that even the rapacity of the Ironbound and their servants found naught to strip from them. Thus, scarce a sound ever resounded in those forlorn regions; but, on that day, the skittering of chitin claws and the heavy trampling of iron soles had broken the stillness which had for years weighed over them as an unseen shroud.

"How much further is it?" the armoured figure marching at the front of the column inquired, its hollow, metallic voice echoing unnaturally as it resounded over the heads of the squat Riglir flanking it. "Not far, master Harbinger" the nearest of them replied in a scraping, almost intermittent voice, "Reach soon. Easy find before, easy now." The three other such creatures at the forefront of the group nodded vigorously, their knifeclaw-equipped clutches involuntarily twitching to indicate the way forward, then withdrawing in frightened haste let their master punish them for their presumption. But the figure did not pay their gestures any heed to their motions, the eyeless gaze of its helm's darkened slits seemingly fixed on the empty horizon far before them. Neither its inscrutable visage nor its movements betrayed any impatience or hesitation as it strode forth like a grim automaton, its pace regular and deliberate, yet such that its cohorts struggled to remain alongside it.

Finally, after what might have been minutes or hours, the being that had spoken second abruptly stopped in its tracks and raised a sharp, clicking noise by snapping its mandibles in rapid sequence. "Here, master. See before you." it rattled, as it scurried a few steps forward to crouch over what seemed to be markings in the dust. The armoured figure lowered the foot it was about to lift and stood still, as though all ability to move had suddenly forsaken it; behind it, the entire column ground to a halt, blades and carapaces clattering against each other. The ligaments in what should have been the leader's neck scraped against each other with a sharp grinding sound as it lowered its head to observe what the scout was pointing at. By its feet, the other Riglir crawled around and nearly over each other, attempting to catch a glimpse of the find; behind its back, the towering Korekk peered over its shoulders, exchanging low, guttural rumbles.

There, in the sand-like brown soil, were traces of something's passage - a series of rather small, circular depressions, unlike any creature of the Fell Lands would leave behind itself. Indeed, it was no wonder the Riglir who had discovered them did not know what could have left them - such beasts had only been seen within their boundaries once in the latest three centuries, and that had been years ago. "Horses" the Harbinger spoke aloud as he stepped closer to the tracks, "Beasts such as men ride. Some were here not long ago." Yet what horses could there be in those arid wastes, devoid of anything a large animal could feed upon, and, had there even been any, why would they suddenly have appeared now, and not at any moment in the preceding hundreds of years? "Someone must have led them here, and they cannot be far. You, you and you" he pointed the index of his right gauntlet, in sequence, at three of the nearby Riglir, "Follow these tracks, and find those who left them. Smell them, if you must. Once you have seen the intruders, return to me." The creatures signalled their assent with a swaying of their heads which could be reasonably interpreted as nodding and scurried off, dropping on all fours as they ran, their feelers writhing as they sought to locate the scent of their prey.

The Harbinger followed them with his gaze till they vanished behind a ridge, then turned once again to the traces in the dust. Though the lords of the Fell Lands never did expand their holdings into the desolation in the east, seeing as there was naught to be gained by stretching their forces over such an extension of fruitless land, they nonetheless regarded it as part of their dominion, for there was none who might have contested their rule, and, though the wastes were not worth fighting a war over, far would it be from them to effortlessly stake claim to as much as they could. Yet his chief concern was not so much that there had been an intrusion into their supposed lands, but that anyone had come there at all. There was, to his knowledge, no life in the east for as far as any of the Lords' scouts had ever seen, and no word had ever been heard of realms inhabited by men, or the likes of them, lying there. All that was known of the east was that an army assembled from throughout the western lands had once deceitfully lured the greatest Ironbound champions there and slain them, though it had itself been decimated in the struggle. Assuredly, this was further proof of the east's emptiness, for surely the westerners would have chosen for their treachery a spot as remote from any witnesses as they could find. And yet, here was proof that something was indeed stirring there... and it was approaching.

His cogitations were interrupted by the sound of approaching scurrying steps. The scouts were returning - far sooner than he would have liked. This meant that whoever had left these marks could not be far, and, if so, it was likely they were not alone. The Riglir stopped, lowering themselves into a crouch, then one of them spoke: "Men. Many. Great army. Have beasts, wagons, many different banners. More approach. All armed." Its breath was rasping and irregular with exhaustion, and perhaps because of this its words seemed all the more urgent. The other Riglir almost flattened themselves upon the ground, rhythmically rising and falling in brief motions, and even the Korekk shuffled in discomfort.

The Harbinger remained silent for a few moments, his empty eyes apparently boring into nothingness, as though contemplating something beyond the sight of anything else. Then, abruptly, he moved towards the Riglir at his sides, and beckoned to one. "You" his voice resonated, apparently as toneless as before, but in truth subtly laden with a new, impalpable presence. A shade of something which might have been surprise, or even apprehension, lay upon his speech. "Return to the garrison, and bid them send word of this to the Dread Keep. Make haste." As the messenger turned to dart whither he was commanded, Vrathar added, in a lower, almost sepulchral tone, "The Overlord must know."

Legend of the Silver Legion (A Fantasy RP)

The Fell Lands

The Fell Lands

Government

Absolute power over the Lands is detained at any given time by the eldest Ironbound then existing, who assumes the title of Fell Overlord. Beyond this premise, there are very few properly defined laws in effect, chief among them being the one decreeing the undisputable and total domination of the Ironbound universally over their Riglir and Korekk subjects. In spite of this, the hierarchy of the Fell Lands' masters is firm and rigid, if somewhat arbitrary. The Overlord typically appoints his advisers and direct lieutenants, who may, in turn, choose their own immediate subordinates, and so forth until the point where every Ironbound in the domain is in someone's service - a process which would be impossible to maintain were their population more numerous, and their rulers to succeed each other more often. The Riglir do not have such luxuries as being individually distinguished from one another, and are therefore largely treated equally; that said, there do exist among them two groups, the magic-wielding Adepts and the armoured infantry, who are accorded certain privileges given their greater usefulness, and possess sufficient prowess to cow others of their kin into recognising them as superior. The Korekk, on the other hand, are sufficiently capable of organising themselves in packs to be trusted with it, and only their leaders usually communicate with the Ironbound, mostly serving as intermediaries between them and their followers.

Geography

The Fell Lands are broadly divided into three major regions, each of them more or less uniform in terms of terrain features:

The tract to the north of the Lake of Sorrow, the great body of water at the heart of the Lands, is a grim, inhospitable tundra, barren save for the occasional thicket of coniferous trees. Its cold, dry earth happens, however, to be rich in metals, and several mines have been dug in it at the command of the merciless Ironbound.
Its most notable feature, however, are the numerous dilapidated buildings, and in some cases entire towns, to be found there. Once built by the mysterious race known as the Ancients, who inhabited the Fell Lands in times immemorial, these structures remain, even in their decrepit state, extremely odd, their strange angles combining into complex optical illusions and seemingly impossible shapes if looked at intently. These sites have been declared to be sacred, and "temple-cities" have been founded around several of them to preserve them and learn their secrets. Due to this, the northern region is usually referred to as the Land of Memory.

South of the Lake lie the Lands' most populous provinces. Along its banks, where the soil is most fertile, stretches a vast expanse of fields and pastures, which feed the ever-ravenous Fell-hordes. Further yet, the earth is scorched and desolate, having been stripped of all life; upon it there stand numberless forges, furnaces, arsenals and strongholds, and there is wrought and housed the hideous strength of the Fell Lands. Most notable among these things is the Cauldron, an immense pit along whose sloping walls weaponsmiths toil ceaselessly, and at the core of which blazes an inferno of black enchanted fire. As the region has its heart there, it is named Land of the Black Flame.

Lastly, the two islands, known as the Isles of Sorrow, in the Lake are the domain of the Overlord and his highest servants. On one there stands the Dread Keep, a fortress with walls of black steel, wherein reside the master of the Fell Lands and his cohorts. On the other rises the Balespire, a metallic tower housing the Lands' chief temple. There the Ironbound are forged and brought to life. The ancient magic has tainted the Isles, and their once-vibrant forests have grown empty of wildlife and eerily silent.

Map

Legend:

Black pentagon: the Dread Keep

Red triangle: the Balespire

Orange circle: the Cauldron

Green diamonds: major mining sites (from west to east - Sevarion and Vorol)

Purple diamond: Osserior, largest of the temple-cities

Fauna

The few creatures capable of dwelling in the harsh environment of the Fell Lands all seem to possess, as a rule, some distinctly unnatural trait or the other. More curious yet, however, is the fact that those features do not serve any obvious purpose, as though they had been arbitrarily added as an afterthought. Theories exist that these abnormalities, or, in some cases, the beasts themselves, were once brought into being by the magic of the Ancients; however, none of those beings' still intact writings substantiate such hypotheses.

Cinderhide Beast: These creatures, as large as a bull and vaguely reptilian in appearance, roam the charred desolation of the southern Fell Lands alone or in small groups, avoiding settlements and convoys but ever ready to ambush the unwary solitary traveller. Their most distinctive feature is the sweltering heat which constantly emanates from beneath their thick, ash-grey hides, and those who have glimpsed the interior of such a beast's mouth and survived affirm that their entrails shine as though they were ablaze.

Waste Terror: The only large form of wildlife inhabiting the forbidding Land of Memory, these colossi, often rivalling buildings in size, appear to be composed of stone and crystals as well as flesh and bone. When they move, their bodies seem to momentarily grow fluid, dripping ichor mingling with living rock in a ghastly spectacle, then solidify once their motion has been completed, whereupon the cycle begins anew until the creature stops to rest. For some inexplicable reason, they have a particular aversion for the Ironbound, and even a single one of the latter can drive a large waste terror away with little effort.

Blight Chimaera: While it is already rather difficult to determine what exactly cinderhide beasts and waste terrors are, doubly so is it for the blight chimaeras, large winged monstrosities nesting in the western mountain ranges. While their shape and somewhat draconic appearance might suggest they are similar to wyverns, their hooved legs, resembling those of a wild boar, indicate otherwise, and their multiple horns outright defy all comparison. Being carrion-eating scavengers, chimaeras have usually little reason to be feared; however, they are infamous for the highly infectious nature of their bites and claw scratches, to which they will resort when perceiving themselves to be threatened.

Culture

What is perhaps most curious about what vestiges of culture there exist in the Fell Lands is that, despite the latter being inhabited by full three races, neither of them is responsible for the foundation of said remnants, and, though they zealously follow their supposed dictates, they have no clear idea of what that culture actually was, or even who exactly were its founders.

The most numerous of the races are the Riglir - foul creatures half as tall as the average human, and of roughly similar shape. Their hunched backs are covered in a segmented layer of brown chitin, and their black limbs and underbellies have an unpleasantly coarse surface. Their squat, elongated heads are graced by two pairs of bulging, entirely black eyes and insectoid mandibles. Riglir are vicious, short-lived and frighteningly prolific thanks to their sex being flexible when necessary (and otherwise absent). Their minds are mostly dim and crude, though they can learn how to perform such comparatively complex tasks as smelting ore or forging metal, and the brightest of them may even prove capable of deciphering the writings of the Ancients and evoke their strange mystical powers.

Far less numerous than the Riglir, but almost incomparably more individually formidable are the Korekk, crustacean-like creatures who easily tower over even the greatest of men. Their pincers have vicious serrated edges, and their bodies are entirely encased in strange plates, whose composition inexplicably resembles a hybrid of chitin and hardened bone to the touch. For all their impressive fortitude, the Korekk are mentally little better than beasts, their most elaborate social structures being pack-like communities and their grasp of language being uncouth at best. Remarkably, however, they appear to have an excellent understanding of discipline, and they often show a propensity for attempting to ape their masters' ritualistic practices.

The Ironbound are suits of armour given life by ancestral rituals, and who must fuel their vital energy with regular sacrifices of sentient beings. Their intellect, though cold and eternally lusting for dominance, is equal, if not, in some cases, superior to that of humans, and they regard mortal races with disdain, scornfully referring to them as "fleshlings". The Ironbound believe the first of them were created by the now-vanished Ancients, and are convinced it is their duty to preserve their precursors' legacy; however, as they themselves know almost nothing of these beings, all they can do is try and reproduce the cryptic rites described in their few remaining written texts, and pay obeisance to gods whose names and guises have been lost to time. Given their innate inclination towards rigidly codified behaviour, these actions inevitably assume a ceremonial guise, regardless of their intent, insofar as it might be stated, without straying far from the truth, that the culture of the Ironbound, and by consequence of the Fell Lands entirely, is fundamentally a vast, if only partially religious cult.
Oddly, the Ironbound are incapable of wielding magic, even though it is integral to their nature, and must rely on trained Riglir Adepts to maintain that aspect of the Ancients' heritage alive.

Military

The forces of the Fell Lands are notable in that they lack any form of cavalry or regular ranged combatants. Instead, they exclusively rely on hordes of massed infantry to overwhelm their foes with furious charges, their immense numbers compensating for their lack of organisation and individual skill. That said, it would be dangerous to mistake these swarms for mere chaotic mobs. There is a system to their onslaught: the assault is usually spearheaded by armoured Korekk, who breach enemy formations, whilst the Riglir following them pour in through the gaps, wreaking havoc among the ranks. The flanks are protected from cavalry assaults by more Korekk brutes, fully capable of tearing down mounted enemies, and reinforced by heavy Riglir infantry, ready to close in with a pincer manoeuver should they encounter insufficient resistance. The whole troop is supported from afar by groups of Adepts, who call upon their bizarre magic to lay waste to their foes.

The Fell Lords' armies are often supplemented with heavy elements, including trained beasts and basic siege engines such as catapults and battering rams. The Ironbound themselves typically assume the role of officers, directing their servants as to when and how to attack, and signalling to sound the retreat when necessary. However, when either in dire circumstances or emboldened by the presence of one of their champions, they will occasionally enter the fray themselves, mostly wielding heavy weapons and relentlessly marching into and through enemy lines.

Heroes

The Abomination

The Ironbound are, as known, brought to life by the means of a ritual described upon one of the carved stone tablets remaining after the disappearance of the cryptic Ancients. However, what remained for a time less known was that there exist variants of this ritual, the directions for them inscribed on two other such slabs which had remained, until four years before the present time, buried in the vaults of small ruined structure, whence they were eventually recovered by an exploration party. The writings upon them, which the Ironbound strangely find themselves capable of interpreting, as well as their spoken equivalents, as soon as they are animated, stated that these incantations could bring forth portentous beings; and this the discoverers were eager to put to the test.

In the subterranean forges of the Balespire was wrought a suit of armour greater than any ever before, and a sword to match it; then, setting it upon an altar dripping with the blood of sacrificial victims, the celebrants intoned the ceremonial litany, while the Riglir Adepts wove the life-giving spells. The ritual continued for hours, until the smoke arising from the braziers standing in the hallowed chamber began to writhe unnaturally and transform into a swirling green mist. The mist flowed into the expectant armour, and, as though it were endowed with a bodily power, tore apart its ligaments, holding the pieces of plate aloft distinctly from one another; then, clutching its sword, the unearthly figure stepped down from the altar, and the ground shook under its treads.

The invokers rejoiced, seeing their efforts crowned with success; however, their triumph swiftly turned to fear when the entity, instead of exhibiting the rational, calculated deliberation proper of the Ironbound, turned on them with mindless ferocity. Their dazed attempts at defence were of no obstacle for the being's incredible strength, and many of them fell to its mist-shrouded blade. In desperation, the Adepts called for their shadowy gods to come to their aid. What followed is unclear, and is seldom spoken of; but the Abomination was subdued, and chained to the wall behind the altar where it first arose.

There it has remained until this day, its feral will snared with fragile, but still intact enchantments and satiated with a continuous stream of offerings. However, there is spreading among the Overlord's advisors the thought that, sooner or later, the entity's terrible might could be put to use in battle against the Fell Lands' enemies.

Fell Lord Vorthal (Deceased)

Ever since the current Overlord's ascension, Vorthal has been his highest lieutenant, granted command over the Balespire's garrison and Adept acolytes and appointed high-priest of the faith of the old gods. Second in age and experience only to his superior, the Fell Lord is greatly versed in the lore of the Ancients, and is said to possess the secret of certain enchanted symbols which he has etched into his armour. These symbols supposedly enhance his speed and agility, which indeed is superior to that of the rest of his kin, and enable him to wield two great sabres at one time. Whether this is true, none knows; and, indeed, Vorthal's entire figure is draped in a veil of occult secrecy which he does not think it meet to lift.

Fell Lord Vorthal was slain in battle by the Einherjar commander Goscelin.

It That Consumes

As it has been mentioned, the variant animation rituals recently retrieved are two. Following the creation of the Abomination, the Ironbound did not entirely abandon their experimentation with them, but now took greater precautions. The armour forged for the second one was not far larger than the norm, and it was bound to the altar whereupon it lay before the evocation began. This time, the effects were swifter in manifesting: the flames in the braziers spun and wound themselves into strange shapes, then rose up into the air, extending themselves like blazing tendrils, and poured into the bound armour as though they were liquid. Then the braziers sputtered out; but the chamber was not darkened, for a fire suddenly sprung up within the armour itself, which rose from the altar, its bonds - but not it body - melting for the great heat.

To general surprise and relief, the being proved quite tractable, and, indeed, resembled the typical Ironbound in all except its desires - It That Consumes, thus it named itself, had no ambition to conquer and rule, but relished violence and destruction as an end unto itself. This divergence notwithstanding, the fiery creature agreed to take a distinguished place in the Fell Lands' hierarchy, answering to none but the Overlord himself, and remains in that position to this day. Its body and weapon, despite being scorchingly hot at all times, show no sign of weakness or deterioration, and its strength exceeds that of all but the Abomination.

Grignil Savage-skulker

Some hold that Grignil has hoarded all of the Riglir race's luck; others, that he is favoured by the old gods themselves. However that matter may stand, it is undeniable that there are gathered in him a number of attributes seldom found in his fellows individually, let alone in such a concentration. He is more cunning, rapid, strong and dexterous than most other Riglir, and likewise possesses a measure of aptitude for the practice of magic. All of this he exploits to make himself into what he believes to be "the perfect predator": he has trained himself to bolt from cover to cover, delivering rapid blows to whatever enemy stands in the way, then supposedly vanishing from his pursuers' sight. This last point is especially problematic - not only has Grignil no concept of how to actually hide, but his use of his magical abilities is directly counteractive to such an intent. Indeed, what he usually does is distort the perception of those who look towards him, causing his image to be so vague and blurred, even when in plain sight, that gazing directly at it is painful to the eye; however, this extends to his immediate surroundings as well, rendering any hiding-place he might adopt highly conspicuous.
Regardless of these failings, Grignil poses a danger not to be underestimated, and is especially prone to appearing where and when one would least expect him.

History

Long ago, beyond the memory of anything now living in eastern Askor, the region now known as the Fell Lands was inhabited by beings whose names have faded into oblivion, remembered simply as the Ancients. Who or what they were is unknown; likewise unknown is the cause of their disappearance. All that is certain is that at one point the Ancients vanished, leaving behind unidentifiable ruins and three races - the Ironbound, Riglir and Korekk - coexisting in relative stability. Centuries went by, and the three races spread to cover the domain of their forerunners, reshaping it into the bleak sight it is now. Hemmed in by the sea on two sides, and mountains and wastes on the other two, they had, for several ages, little contact with the outside world.

Their first relevant interaction with the rest of Askor some three hundred years before the present day, when the Prophetess gathered heroes from throughout the continent to battle some threat in the east. Seeing as the Fell Lands were as far to the east as anything in Askor, their rulers, fearing for their safety, sent their greatest champions along with the expedition. Yet, when none returned, they grew convinced they had been betrayed by the rest of the Legion so that their strength might be culled, and sent their hordes to destroy the survivors. Thus ended the Fell Lands' first contact with the world, and for three more centuries they remained in isolation.

Twenty years ago, however, envoys from Calor Murex ventured into them, bearing word of a singular venture which was being prepared in their land - the summoning of new gods into this world to supplant the old ones, of whom they spoke disparagingly. The envoys were slain for their blasphemy against the Fell Lands' decrepit deities, but their speeches had sparked the flame of curiosity in the minds of the Overlord and his advisors. If something capable of invoking gods into the corporeal world were to be found, the surely it could be put at the service of their own patrons; and, if they were to manifest, they would bring all under their sway, and reward their faithful adherents.

Plans were hatched over the maps and documents the envoys had brought with them, and eventually precipitated fourteen years later, when a Mycaean peasant, captured by Riglir scouts, declared he had heard that the Regent of Calor Murex had created three living vessels of power - who likewise happened to be descendants of the abhorred Prophetess - to assist in his summoning. Growing impatient, the Fell Lords gathered their armies, and made their way into Mycae, with the intent of crossing the entirety of Askor and claiming all that pertained to the ritual as theirs. However, they had underestimated their foes, and were beaten back. The Mycaeans then sealed the only mountain pass wide enough to allow through an army with a wall, trapping the invaders in the Lands.

Over the last six years, the Overlord, filled with wrath at his servants' failure, has been organising the inhabitants of the Fell Lands into a capable fighting force, in preparation for the day of their return. However, unbeknownst to them, an unsuspected peril is approaching from the east...

Relations

Mycae: Alone, the mere fact of Mycae being near the Fell Lands is not reason enough for their denizens to regard it with anything more than neutrality; then again, the latter word is, as far as the Ironbound are concerned, equivalent to hostility. This already unflattering stance is further aggravated by Mycae not only being an obstacle to the Fell Lords' plans of an expedition against Calor Murex, but already having once thwarted an attempt to push westwards and barring the only way out of the Lands in that direction. It is thus little wonder that it is regarded as a hated enemy whose destruction is necessary and inevitable.

Clans of Tarkima: The Fell Lands' only form of contact with the Clans have been the occasional incursions of Fervari raiders along the northern coast, and one failed attempt at mounting an invasion. Though this does not certainly dispose their inhabitants favourably towards the clan, the sporadic nature of the latter's appearances makes them inclined to view it as little more than a nuisance.

Calor Murex: It was news from Calor Murex that first shook the Fell Lands from their centuries-long stasis, and it was a confirmation of them that drove them to turn their gaze to the west. Though the Ironbound know little of the land itself, they are aware that somewhere in it lies the key to establishing the supreme rule of their divine masters over the world, and this suffices to fill them with determination to reach it and ravage it until that key be found - even if it should be necessary to carve a swath through the entire continent to reach that end.

Characters

Fell Overlord Rahkerroth: The master of the Fell Lands and their most ancient inhabitant, Rahkerroth still recalls the time of the Silver Legion, and was among those who instigated its destruction, believing the tale of its betrayal of his fellow Ironbound. Under his rule, the Fell Lands partially recouped from their losses, and, through their former might could not so swiftly be restored, his skilful guidance returned them to the state of a force to be reckoned with.
Despite numerous modifications and refashionings having lent his armour a fearsome guise, Rahkerroth is no more physically potent than the average Ironbound. He primarily relies on marshalling his underlings to accomplish his goals, and has, through the years, grown redoubtably capable of doing so in the most effective of manners.

Harbinger Vrathar: A lesser commander in the Fell Lands' armies, Vrathar is not particularly notable for his experience, prowess, brilliance or, indeed, courage, as he tends to be more painfully aware of his mortality than most other Ironbound and thus more prone to withdrawing from battles he believes are taking a turn for the worse. That said, he does possess a measure of tactical skill, and his cautious approach to combat may yet serve him well in the future...

Legend of the Silver Legion (A Fantasy RP)

...And I deliver.

The Fell Lands

The Fell Lands

Government

Absolute power over the Lands is detained at any given time by the eldest Ironbound then existing, who assumes the title of Fell Overlord. Beyond this premise, there are very few properly defined laws in effect, chief among them being the one decreeing the undisputable and total domination of the Ironbound universally over their Riglir and Korekk subjects. In spite of this, the hierarchy of the Fell Lands' masters is firm and rigid, if somewhat arbitrary. The Overlord typically appoints his advisers and direct lieutenants, who may, in turn, choose their own immediate subordinates, and so forth until the point where every Ironbound in the domain is in someone's service - a process which would be impossible to maintain were their population more numerous, and their rulers to succeed each other more often. The Riglir do not have such luxuries as being individually distinguished from one another, and are therefore largely treated equally; that said, there do exist among them two groups, the magic-wielding Adepts and the armoured infantry, who are accorded certain privileges given their greater usefulness, and possess sufficient prowess to cow others of their kin into recognising them as superior. The Korekk, on the other hand, are sufficiently capable of organising themselves in packs to be trusted with it, and only their leaders usually communicate with the Ironbound, mostly serving as intermediaries between them and their followers.

Geography

The Fell Lands are broadly divided into three major regions, each of them more or less uniform in terms of terrain features:

The tract to the north of the Lake of Sorrow, the great body of water at the heart of the Lands, is a grim, inhospitable tundra, barren save for the occasional thicket of coniferous trees. Its cold, dry earth happens, however, to be rich in metals, and several mines have been dug in it at the command of the merciless Ironbound.
Its most notable feature, however, are the numerous dilapidated buildings, and in some cases entire towns, to be found there. Once built by the mysterious race known as the Ancients, who inhabited the Fell Lands in times immemorial, these structures remain, even in their decrepit state, extremely odd, their strange angles combining into complex optical illusions and seemingly impossible shapes if looked at intently. These sites have been declared to be sacred, and "temple-cities" have been founded around several of them to preserve them and learn their secrets. Due to this, the northern region is usually referred to as the Land of Memory.

South of the Lake lie the Lands' most populous provinces. Along its banks, where the soil is most fertile, stretches a vast expanse of fields and pastures, which feed the ever-ravenous Fell-hordes. Further yet, the earth is scorched and desolate, having been stripped of all life; upon it there stand numberless forges, furnaces, arsenals and strongholds, and there is wrought and housed the hideous strength of the Fell Lands. Most notable among these things is the Cauldron, an immense pit along whose sloping walls weaponsmiths toil ceaselessly, and at the core of which blazes an inferno of black enchanted fire. As the region has its heart there, it is named Land of the Black Flame.

Lastly, the two islands, known as the Isles of Sorrow, in the Lake are the domain of the Overlord and his highest servants. On one there stands the Dread Keep, a fortress with walls of black steel, wherein reside the master of the Fell Lands and his cohorts. On the other rises the Balespire, a metallic tower housing the Lands' chief temple. There the Ironbound are forged and brought to life. The ancient magic has tainted the Isles, and their once-vibrant forests have grown empty of wildlife and eerily silent.

Map

Legend:

Black pentagon: the Dread Keep

Red triangle: the Balespire

Orange circle: the Cauldron

Green diamonds: major mining sites (from west to east - Sevarion and Vorol)

Purple diamond: Osserior, largest of the temple-cities

Fauna

The few creatures capable of dwelling in the harsh environment of the Fell Lands all seem to possess, as a rule, some distinctly unnatural trait or the other. More curious yet, however, is the fact that those features do not serve any obvious purpose, as though they had been arbitrarily added as an afterthought. Theories exist that these abnormalities, or, in some cases, the beasts themselves, were once brought into being by the magic of the Ancients; however, none of those beings' still intact writings substantiate such hypotheses.

Cinderhide Beast: These creatures, as large as a bull and vaguely reptilian in appearance, roam the charred desolation of the southern Fell Lands alone or in small groups, avoiding settlements and convoys but ever ready to ambush the unwary solitary traveller. Their most distinctive feature is the sweltering heat which constantly emanates from beneath their thick, ash-grey hides, and those who have glimpsed the interior of such a beast's mouth and survived affirm that their entrails shine as though they were ablaze.

Waste Terror: The only large form of wildlife inhabiting the forbidding Land of Memory, these colossi, often rivalling buildings in size, appear to be composed of stone and crystals as well as flesh and bone. When they move, their bodies seem to momentarily grow fluid, dripping ichor mingling with living rock in a ghastly spectacle, then solidify once their motion has been completed, whereupon the cycle begins anew until the creature stops to rest. For some inexplicable reason, they have a particular aversion for the Ironbound, and even a single one of the latter can drive a large waste terror away with little effort.

Blight Chimaera: While it is already rather difficult to determine what exactly cinderhide beasts and waste terrors are, doubly so is it for the blight chimaeras, large winged monstrosities nesting in the western mountain ranges. While their shape and somewhat draconic appearance might suggest they are similar to wyverns, their hooved legs, resembling those of a wild boar, indicate otherwise, and their multiple horns outright defy all comparison. Being carrion-eating scavengers, chimaeras have usually little reason to be feared; however, they are infamous for the highly infectious nature of their bites and claw scratches, to which they will resort when perceiving themselves to be threatened.

Culture

What is perhaps most curious about what vestiges of culture there exist in the Fell Lands is that, despite the latter being inhabited by full three races, neither of them is responsible for the foundation of said remnants, and, though they zealously follow their supposed dictates, they have no clear idea of what that culture actually was, or even who exactly were its founders.

The most numerous of the races are the Riglir - foul creatures half as tall as the average human, and of roughly similar shape. Their hunched backs are covered in a segmented layer of brown chitin, and their black limbs and underbellies have an unpleasantly coarse surface. Their squat, elongated heads are graced by two pairs of bulging, entirely black eyes and insectoid mandibles. Riglir are vicious, short-lived and frighteningly prolific thanks to their sex being flexible when necessary (and otherwise absent). Their minds are mostly dim and crude, though they can learn how to perform such comparatively complex tasks as smelting ore or forging metal, and the brightest of them may even prove capable of deciphering the writings of the Ancients and evoke their strange mystical powers.

Far less numerous than the Riglir, but almost incomparably more individually formidable are the Korekk, crustacean-like creatures who easily tower over even the greatest of men. Their pincers have vicious serrated edges, and their bodies are entirely encased in strange plates, whose composition inexplicably resembles a hybrid of chitin and hardened bone to the touch. For all their impressive fortitude, the Korekk are mentally little better than beasts, their most elaborate social structures being pack-like communities and their grasp of language being uncouth at best. Remarkably, however, they appear to have an excellent understanding of discipline, and they often show a propensity for attempting to ape their masters' ritualistic practices.

The Ironbound are suits of armour given life by ancestral rituals, and who must fuel their vital energy with regular sacrifices of sentient beings. Their intellect, though cold and eternally lusting for dominance, is equal, if not, in some cases, superior to that of humans, and they regard mortal races with disdain, scornfully referring to them as "fleshlings". The Ironbound believe the first of them were created by the now-vanished Ancients, and are convinced it is their duty to preserve their precursors' legacy; however, as they themselves know almost nothing of these beings, all they can do is try and reproduce the cryptic rites described in their few remaining written texts, and pay obeisance to gods whose names and guises have been lost to time. Given their innate inclination towards rigidly codified behaviour, these actions inevitably assume a ceremonial guise, regardless of their intent, insofar as it might be stated, without straying far from the truth, that the culture of the Ironbound, and by consequence of the Fell Lands entirely, is fundamentally a vast, if only partially religious cult.
Oddly, the Ironbound are incapable of wielding magic, even though it is integral to their nature, and must rely on trained Riglir Adepts to maintain that aspect of the Ancients' heritage alive.

Military

The forces of the Fell Lands are notable in that they lack any form of cavalry or regular ranged combatants. Instead, they exclusively rely on hordes of massed infantry to overwhelm their foes with furious charges, their immense numbers compensating for their lack of organisation and individual skill. That said, it would be dangerous to mistake these swarms for mere chaotic mobs. There is a system to their onslaught: the assault is usually spearheaded by armoured Korekk, who breach enemy formations, whilst the Riglir following them pour in through the gaps, wreaking havoc among the ranks. The flanks are protected from cavalry assaults by more Korekk brutes, fully capable of tearing down mounted enemies, and reinforced by heavy Riglir infantry, ready to close in with a pincer manoeuver should they encounter insufficient resistance. The whole troop is supported from afar by groups of Adepts, who call upon their bizarre magic to lay waste to their foes.

The Fell Lords' armies are often supplemented with heavy elements, including trained beasts and basic siege engines such as catapults and battering rams. The Ironbound themselves typically assume the role of officers, directing their servants as to when and how to attack, and signalling to sound the retreat when necessary. However, when either in dire circumstances or emboldened by the presence of one of their champions, they will occasionally enter the fray themselves, mostly wielding heavy weapons and relentlessly marching into and through enemy lines.

Heroes

The Abomination

The Ironbound are, as known, brought to life by the means of a ritual described upon one of the carved stone tablets remaining after the disappearance of the cryptic Ancients. However, what remained for a time less known was that there exist variants of this ritual, the directions for them inscribed on two other such slabs which had remained, until four years before the present time, buried in the vaults of small ruined structure, whence they were eventually recovered by an exploration party. The writings upon them, which the Ironbound strangely find themselves capable of interpreting, as well as their spoken equivalents, as soon as they are animated, stated that these incantations could bring forth portentous beings; and this the discoverers were eager to put to the test.

In the subterranean forges of the Balespire was wrought a suit of armour greater than any ever before, and a sword to match it; then, setting it upon an altar dripping with the blood of sacrificial victims, the celebrants intoned the ceremonial litany, while the Riglir Adepts wove the life-giving spells. The ritual continued for hours, until the smoke arising from the braziers standing in the hallowed chamber began to writhe unnaturally and transform into a swirling green mist. The mist flowed into the expectant armour, and, as though it were endowed with a bodily power, tore apart its ligaments, holding the pieces of plate aloft distinctly from one another; then, clutching its sword, the unearthly figure stepped down from the altar, and the ground shook under its treads.

The invokers rejoiced, seeing their efforts crowned with success; however, their triumph swiftly turned to fear when the entity, instead of exhibiting the rational, calculated deliberation proper of the Ironbound, turned on them with mindless ferocity. Their dazed attempts at defence were of no obstacle for the being's incredible strength, and many of them fell to its mist-shrouded blade. In desperation, the Adepts called for their shadowy gods to come to their aid. What followed is unclear, and is seldom spoken of; but the Abomination was subdued, and chained to the wall behind the altar where it first arose.

There it has remained until this day, its feral will snared with fragile, but still intact enchantments and satiated with a continuous stream of offerings. However, there is spreading among the Overlord's advisors the thought that, sooner or later, the entity's terrible might could be put to use in battle against the Fell Lands' enemies.

Fell Lord Vorthal

Ever since the current Overlord's ascension, Vorthal has been his highest lieutenant, granted command over the Balespire's garrison and Adept acolytes and appointed high-priest of the faith of the old gods. Second in age and experience only to his superior, the Fell Lord is greatly versed in the lore of the Ancients, and is said to possess the secret of certain enchanted symbols which he has etched into his armour. These symbols supposedly enhance his speed and agility, which indeed is superior to that of the rest of his kin, and enable him to wield two great sabres at one time. Whether this is true, none knows; and, indeed, Vorthal's entire figure is draped in a veil of occult secrecy which he does not think it meet to lift.

It That Consumes

As it has been mentioned, the variant animation rituals recently retrieved are two. Following the creation of the Abomination, the Ironbound did not entirely abandon their experimentation with them, but now took greater precautions. The armour forged for the second one was not far larger than the norm, and it was bound to the altar whereupon it lay before the evocation began. This time, the effects were swifter in manifesting: the flames in the braziers spun and wound themselves into strange shapes, then rose up into the air, extending themselves like blazing tendrils, and poured into the bound armour as though they were liquid. Then the braziers sputtered out; but the chamber was not darkened, for a fire suddenly sprung up within the armour itself, which rose from the altar, its bonds - but not it body - melting for the great heat.

To general surprise and relief, the being proved quite tractable, and, indeed, resembled the typical Ironbound in all except its desires - It That Consumes, thus it named itself, had no ambition to conquer and rule, but relished violence and destruction as an end unto itself. This divergence notwithstanding, the fiery creature agreed to take a distinguished place in the Fell Lands' hierarchy, answering to none but the Overlord himself, and remains in that position to this day. Its body and weapon, despite being scorchingly hot at all times, show no sign of weakness or deterioration, and its strength exceeds that of all but the Abomination.

Grignil Savage-skulker

Some hold that Grignil has hoarded all of the Riglir race's luck; others, that he is favoured by the old gods themselves. However that matter may stand, it is undeniable that there are gathered in him a number of attributes seldom found in his fellows individually, let alone in such a concentration. He is more cunning, rapid, strong and dexterous than most other Riglir, and likewise possesses a measure of aptitude for the practice of magic. All of this he exploits to make himself into what he believes to be "the perfect predator": he has trained himself to bolt from cover to cover, delivering rapid blows to whatever enemy stands in the way, then supposedly vanishing from his pursuers' sight. This last point is especially problematic - not only has Grignil no concept of how to actually hide, but his use of his magical abilities is directly counteractive to such an intent. Indeed, what he usually does is distort the perception of those who look towards him, causing his image to be so vague and blurred, even when in plain sight, that gazing directly at it is painful to the eye; however, this extends to his immediate surroundings as well, rendering any hiding-place he might adopt highly conspicuous.
Regardless of these failings, Grignil poses a danger not to be underestimated, and is especially prone to appearing where and when one would least expect him.

History

Long ago, beyond the memory of anything now living in eastern Askor, the region now known as the Fell Lands was inhabited by beings whose names have faded into oblivion, remembered simply as the Ancients. Who or what they were is unknown; likewise unknown is the cause of their disappearance. All that is certain is that at one point the Ancients vanished, leaving behind unidentifiable ruins and three races - the Ironbound, Riglir and Korekk - coexisting in relative stability. Centuries went by, and the three races spread to cover the domain of their forerunners, reshaping it into the bleak sight it is now. Hemmed in by the sea on two sides, and mountains and wastes on the other two, they had, for several ages, little contact with the outside world.

Their first relevant interaction with the rest of Askor some three hundred years before the present day, when the Prophetess gathered heroes from throughout the continent to battle some threat in the east. Seeing as the Fell Lands were as far to the east as anything in Askor, their rulers, fearing for their safety, sent their greatest champions along with the expedition. Yet, when none returned, they grew convinced they had been betrayed by the rest of the Legion so that their strength might be culled, and sent their hordes to destroy the survivors. Thus ended the Fell Lands' first contact with the world, and for three more centuries they remained in isolation.

Twenty years ago, however, envoys from Calor Murex ventured into them, bearing word of a singular venture which was being prepared in their land - the summoning of new gods into this world to supplant the old ones, of whom they spoke disparagingly. The envoys were slain for their blasphemy against the Fell Lands' decrepit deities, but their speeches had sparked the flame of curiosity in the minds of the Overlord and his advisors. If something capable of invoking gods into the corporeal world were to be found, the surely it could be put at the service of their own patrons; and, if they were to manifest, they would bring all under their sway, and reward their faithful adherents.

Plans were hatched over the maps and documents the envoys had brought with them, and eventually precipitated fourteen years later, when a Mycaean peasant, captured by Riglir scouts, declared he had heard that the Regent of Calor Murex had created three living vessels of power - who likewise happened to be descendants of the abhorred Prophetess - to assist in his summoning. Growing impatient, the Fell Lords gathered their armies, and made their way into Mycae, with the intent of crossing the entirety of Askor and claiming all that pertained to the ritual as theirs. However, they had underestimated their foes, and were beaten back. The Mycaeans then sealed the only mountain pass wide enough to allow through an army with a wall, trapping the invaders in the Lands.

Over the last six years, the Overlord, filled with wrath at his servants' failure, has been organising the inhabitants of the Fell Lands into a capable fighting force, in preparation for the day of their return. However, unbeknownst to them, an unsuspected peril is approaching from the east...

Relations

Mycae: Alone, the mere fact of Mycae being near the Fell Lands is not reason enough for their denizens to regard it with anything more than neutrality; then again, the latter word is, as far as the Ironbound are concerned, equivalent to hostility. This already unflattering stance is further aggravated by Mycae not only being an obstacle to the Fell Lords' plans of an expedition against Calor Murex, but already having once thwarted an attempt to push westwards and barring the only way out of the Lands in that direction. It is thus little wonder that it is regarded as a hated enemy whose destruction is necessary and inevitable.

Clans of Tarkima: The Fell Lands' only form of contact with the Clans have been the occasional incursions of Fervari raiders along the northern coast, and one failed attempt at mounting an invasion. Though this does not certainly dispose their inhabitants favourably towards the clan, the sporadic nature of the latter's appearances makes them inclined to view it as little more than a nuisance.

Calor Murex: It was news from Calor Murex that first shook the Fell Lands from their centuries-long stasis, and it was a confirmation of them that drove them to turn their gaze to the west. Though the Ironbound know little of the land itself, they are aware that somewhere in it lies the key to establishing the supreme rule of their divine masters over the world, and this suffices to fill them with determination to reach it and ravage it until that key be found - even if it should be necessary to carve a swath through the entire continent to reach that end.

Characters

Fell Overlord Rahkerroth: The master of the Fell Lands and their most ancient inhabitant, Rahkerroth still recalls the time of the Silver Legion, and was among those who instigated its destruction, believing the tale of its betrayal of his fellow Ironbound. Under his rule, the Fell Lands partially recouped from their losses, and, through their former might could not so swiftly be restored, his skilful guidance returned them to the state of a force to be reckoned with.
Despite numerous modifications and refashionings having lent his armour a fearsome guise, Rahkerroth is no more physically potent than the average Ironbound. He primarily relies on marshalling his underlings to accomplish his goals, and has, through the years, grown redoubtably capable of doing so in the most effective of manners.

Harbinger Vrathar: A lesser commander in the Fell Lands' armies, Vrathar is not particularly notable for his experience, prowess, brilliance or, indeed, courage, as he tends to be more painfully aware of his mortality than most other Ironbound and thus more prone to withdrawing from battles he believes are taking a turn for the worse. That said, he does possess a measure of tactical skill, and his cautious approach to combat may yet serve him well in the future...

Hellscapers! [PRETTY MUCH ALWAYS ACCEPTING EXCEPT WHEN WE HAVE TEN PEOPLE (WE DON'T)!]

Swaying slightly to recover his balance after his final assault upon the now collapsed Nefas, Old N reflexively twitched his entire frame as his wrathful thirst for revenge, having been satisfied, subsided. Someone with a neck would not have had to go through all that trouble to regain some clarity, but, loath though one might be to admit it, being encased in an inflexible carapace had its disadvantages. His mind no longer preoccupied with meting out retribution, its focus slowly flowed, or, rather, dripped, towards even more immediate objects. Such as the dull, pulsing pain in his fractured pincers. The demon disconsolately shook once again, his forelimbs dangling limply (and causing no small amount of further agony as they struck against the rest of him, though he barely deemed it worth to register it). After all, since they would not be of any use to him for a while anyway, what good was it to waste his strength holding them up?

It would probably not have occurred to Old N for a few minutes yet that he was still standing in the prison's hallway had he not been jolted back to his senses by Deprave's bellowing. Throwing a glance in the brute's direction which, with the help of a vivid imagination and some potential for mind-reading, could have been interpreted to be supposed to display irritation, the demon turned to surveying his surroundings. The chamber was partly filled with escaped convicts, who seemed determined to out-yell the Mayaztec Cambion (not that this helped them any), whilst the latter, having shouldered the finally subdued Grog, was making his way past the one-armed fellow, whom Old N had not seen doing much, and the knig- Wait, that was the knight? Weren't the people wearing armour supposed to be- The unexpected novelty of "Jonathan"'s sex dealt the final blow to Old N's already reluctant attempts to appraise the situation, and, waving an imaginary intact pincer at it all, he shuffled towards the apparent gathering-point.

Legend of the Silver Legion (A Fantasy RP)

I am currently somewhat busy, which regrettably impairs my writing capabilities, but should be able to resume activity in two or three days at the latest. You may expect both a complete sheet and a post from me by Friday-Saturday (and may remorselessly chastise me if I delay any further).

Legend of the Silver Legion (A Fantasy RP)

Laughably incomplete, but at least you know I am still alive.

Where the shadows lie

The Fell Lands

Government

Absolute power over the Lands is detained at any given time by the eldest Ironbound then existing, who assumes the title of Fell Overlord. Beyond this premise, there are very few properly defined laws in effect, chief among them being the one decreeing the undisputable and total domination of the Ironbound universally over their Riglir subjects. In spite of this, the hierarchy of the Fell Lands' masters is firm and rigid, if somewhat arbitrary. The Overlord typically appoints his advisers and direct lieutenants, who may, in turn, choose their own immediate subordinates, and so forth until the point where every Ironbound in the domain is in someone's service - a process which would be impossible to maintain were their population more numerous, and their rulers to succeed each other more often. The Riglir do not have such luxuries as being individually distinguished from one another, and are therefore largely treated equally; that said, there do exist among them two groups, the magic-wielding Adepts and the armoured Reavers, who are accorded certain privileges given their greater usefulness, and possess sufficient prowess to cow others of their kin into recognising them as superior.

Geography

The Fell Lands are broadly divided into three major regions, each of them more or less uniform in terms of terrain features:

The tract to the north of the Lake of Sorrow, the great body of water at the heart of the Lands, is a grim, inhospitable tundra, barren save for the occasional thicket of coniferous trees. Its cold, dry earth happens, however, to be rich in metals, and several mines have been dug in it at the command of the merciless Ironbound.
Its most notable feature, however, are the numerous dilapidated buildings, and in some cases entire towns, to be found there. Once built by the mysterious race known as the Ancients, who inhabited the Fell Lands in times immemorial, these structures remain, even in their decrepit state, extremely odd, their strange angles combining into complex optical illusions and seemingly impossible shapes if looked at intently. These sites have been declared to be sacred, and "temple-cities" have been founded around several of them to preserve them and learn their secrets. Due to this, the northern region is usually referred to as the Land of Memory.

South of the Lake lie the Lands' most populous provinces. Along its banks, where the soil is most fertile, stretches a vast expanse of fields and pastures, which feed the ever-ravenous hordes of the Riglir. Further yet, the earth is scorched and desolate, having been stripped of all life; upon it there stand numberless forges, furnaces, arsenals and strongholds, and there is wrought and housed the hideous strength of the Fell Lands. Most notable among these things is the Cauldron, an immense pit along whose sloping walls weaponsmiths toil ceaselessly, and at the core of which blazes an inferno of black enchanted fire. As the region has its heart there, it is named Land of the Black Flame.

Lastly, the two islands, known as the Isles of Sorrow, in the Lake are the domain of the Overlord and his highest servants. On one there stands the Dread Keep, a fortress with walls of black steel, wherein reside the master of the Fell Lands and his cohorts. On the other rises the Balespire, a metallic tower housing the Lands' chief temple. There the Ironbound are forged and brought to life. The ancient magic has tainted the Isles, and their once-vibrant forests have grown empty of wildlife and eerily silent.

Map

Legend:

Black pentagon: the Dread Keep

Red triangle: the Balespire

Orange circle: the Cauldron

Green diamonds: major mining sites (from west to east - Sevarion and Vorol)

Purple diamond: Osserior, largest of the temple-cities

Culture

What is perhaps most curious about what vestiges of culture there exist in the Fell Lands is that, despite the latter being inhabited by full two races, neither of them is responsible for the foundation of said remnants, and, though both zealously follow their supposed dictates, they have no clear idea of what that culture actually was, or even who exactly were its founders.

The most numerous of the two races are the Riglir - foul creatures half as tall as the average human, and of roughly similar shape. Their hunched backs are covered in a segmented layer of brown chitin, and their black limbs and underbellies have an unpleasantly coarse surface. Their squat, elongated heads are graced by a pair of bulging, entirely black eyes and insectoid mandibles. Riglir are vicious, short-lived and frighteningly prolific thanks to their sex being flexible when necessary (and otherwise absent). Their minds are mostly dim and crude, though they can learn how to perform such comparatively complex tasks as smelting ore or forging metal, and the brightest of them may even learn to decipher the writings of the Ancients and evoke their strange mystical powers.

The Ironbound are suits of armour given life by ancestral rituals, and who must fuel their vital energy with regular sacrifices of sentient beings. Their intellect, though cold and eternally lusting for dominance, is equal, if not, in some cases, superior to that of humans, and they regard mortal races with disdain, scornfully referring to them as "fleshlings". The Ironbound believe the first of them were created by the now-vanished Ancients, and believe it is their duty to preserve their precursors' legacy; however, as they themselves know almost nothing of these beings, all they can do is try and reproduce the cryptic rites described in their few remaining written texts, and pay obeisance to gods whose names and guises have been lost to time. Remarkably, the Ironbound are incapable of wielding magic, even though it is integral to their nature, and must rely on trained Riglir Adepts to maintain that aspect of the Ancients' heritage alive.

Military

Heroes

History

Relations

Characters

Hellscapers! [PRETTY MUCH ALWAYS ACCEPTING EXCEPT WHEN WE HAVE TEN PEOPLE (WE DON'T)!]

Old N's vengeful charge turned out to be quite short-lived, as Nefas was fast enough to deliver a potent blow to the crab-demon before the latter collapsed his armoured bulk onto him. Normally, such a strike would easily have sent Old N sprawling to the ground, not unlike an oversized beetle having fallen from a stalk of grass due to its unawareness of (or delusions concerning, in the case of a vainer insect) its own weight. However, there was at least one factor bringing circumstances from “normal” in this case, and namely that the crustacean was bearing down in the direction directly opposite to the blow. The combination of his ponderous mass and the momentum of his rush was sufficient to balance the two forces, with the result of reducing the effect of the warden’s blow to stopping him in his tracks and causing him to stagger backwards a few steps.

While Old N was recovering his balance, the knight, who had somehow managed to light his shield on fire, struck Nefas in the knee – a move which, along with the onslaught of the rioting prisoners, would at least be sufficient to divert the Cambion’s attention. Taking advantage of such a propitious turn of events, the crab creakingly bent over and once again charged at the warden headfirst. This time, would his target even be fast enough to react, he would find it more difficult to land a direct hit on the round top of Old N’s carapace; at all events, the demon was fully certain that the maimer of his pincers would not escape his righteous fury another time.