Steamery is a type of learning, like Magery and Lettery (Magic of Written words, Scholarly works), akin to Alchemy which combined elements of the two. It is considered a type of magic, the use of the four basic elements to produce “magical” power.
The worlds are nothing more than bubbles on the strings on the plane of dreams.
Magic is a living entity, simple and non-sentient, but reactive to large-scale emotional states. Its name, like we might call a dog, “Dog”, is Garan. It is better to think of it as a huge astreal vine like plant, rather than an animal.
The young priest had been healing in the market place for free. Someone seeking bounty gold had told someone at the temple. "Hut. Hut. Hut" The Temple Knights in formation came marching down from the temple.
The young priest stood up. He reached into his pouch. With a smile he put the top into the Bey. With a spin, the 1000 prayers to the spirits came forth. The spirit responded. The wind whirled and buffetted the troops. They fell into each other and were having trouble getting due to the wind that only they felt.
The priest picked up his top and ran away. They would not catch him today.
Peldor scrambled for his staff. It has all his tactical spells anchored. He dived to the floor, trying to dodge the incoming dart spells. All he had was his ring (for energy enhancements) and his belt buckle (which carried his personal enhancements spells). Papers, smoke, and wood splinters flew everywhere. In the chaos, he saw it - his lab desk’s sextant. He stretched, just touching with the tips of his fingers. He rolled forward. A dart struck infront of him. Spitting dust out of his mouth and squinting against the flying debree, he made solid contact. He whispered the trigger, utilizing his ring to make it cost less mana. The green mystic glow unfolded. It formed a full serephamic sheild. The hex bolts and darts were bouncing off it. Slowly he rose. He was able to take the three steps to reach his battle staff. Now, things would be different.
The Omen Plague has other names. It is known as The Star Plague and even The Mundane Plague. It is still with us today, now known by the common name of the Shaking Death. To set the stage, the stars were aligned in all the wrong signs. Everyone new something bad was going to happen. When winter set in hard and early, they thought that was it. They were wrong.
Plagues, diseases, injuries, and healing, are all things adventurers face.
The measurements on Arth center around The Emperor and the Imperium. The Imperium imposes certain standards upon its subjects to make communication and trade between areas easier. Some of the most important was how much each coin was worth (and its basic size), the common language (imperial-low and high), and a system of measures.
In the begining there was a great Darkness. Then there was light. It was Helion.
The Adoni is celebrated in several regions of the world, sometimes under a different name. Some of the details are different, but it is basically the same myth.
Mothon is considered a Demon Cult by the other religions. Mothon is called The Spirit of the Darkness. That is true, though not an appealing name. He created space, light, and time. He created everything by seperating Mothon and Not-Mothon. He is The Deity, but he does not care if you know it.
The Vicean Deity is a mysterious Deity. Some say it is the primal god - the universal spark- that created all the other dieties and the rest of the universe. Some say that it is the God within all of us. The Vicean Deity is The Sun. The Vicean Deity is not simple. There is no “personaification” of the Vicean Deity. Is it confusing to most people, but it seems to work.
There used to be many Gods. They were petty, cruel, and plagued Humanity almost as badly as the Demons of Sogoth. They bore more Gods. They fought with each other. They were unworthy of the divine mantle. Then came Argon.
Pandjit was a magi and philospher several hundred years ago. He used meditation, prayer (focused) dance, and soul access to determine the nature of the universe.
The One is the primal spirit of the universe. The One shaped the Material, for as the spirit goes so does the dust. The One is behind everything.
The Weaver spun time, space, fire earth, air, water, light, and spirit into existance from the primal chaos, the way a spinner spins threads out of cotton or wool. Weaving them together, The Weaver made all.
The Worship of Danu has changed over time. Originally, the worship of Danu, was a worship of faith, rather than respect/ miracle. The worshipers were magically transported to Arth, a world of many spirit beings. Upon travelling to Arth, they accepted that there were new and mighty spirits to respect, but continued to worship Danu and the principle of Masque. Now, they have found that the master of masques exists in Arth. Their worship empowers Danu and in turn, he empowers his priests. Most KnownWorlders do not understand why the MaskLanders would worship a mere master. They do not understand the word Masque.
In this world, each race had its own Spirit, or Diety it revered. It personified the race. The Mythic people (Elves, Dwarves, Goblins, et al) had worshiped their spirits since before time began, long before Humans crawled out of their caves and became a speaking race.
"Harken to The Word of the Messenger, He who is heralding new age, one without the upsurping lesser Gods."
This scroll is for posting monotheistic religions to be used in games.
Cold Comfort is a long-sword of star-steel, its blade giving off a wan, blueish light. Its grip is wrapped tightly in snow-serpent hide, and its pommel bears a single opalescent gemstone.
This blade is enchanted in such a way, that whoever wields it, begins to fall completely and irrevocably "in love" with the weapon. This love does not manifest itself as the expected reverence and bond formed between any warrior and his weapon, but as a deeper, truer love, one has for a soul-mate of the same species! The longer the wielder carries Cold Comfort the stronger and more disturbing this love becomes, and only the most powerful of magicks can potentially break the sword's insidious spell. The blade's owner will even speak to and coo to the weapon, convinced that the sword understands and returns this epic love.
If the blade's wielder somehow loses the weapon or has it taken away, they will become inconsolable, and will predictably go to "ends of the earth and back" to retrieve it at any cost. Such is the weapon's curse that even separation from it does not damper the feelings the owner has for the sword. Legends tell of several distraught and mind-addled knights who even years after losing the blade, still wander the country-side searching for their lost love. And woe be to the "new lover" if and when they find him or her.