Robotic Poet or Paperweight
The Voice of Time
An optional pantheon of deities for your fantasy setting.
Tales grow in the telling and heroes grow in stature, even the tiniest can stand tall among their own.
The Eldest of the Oraki, and for long their leader, Lifthrasir-1 has helped his children survive the throes of their birth, and has at last stepped aside, so that his waning years do not bring harm to his people.
"I hear that he walks the North these days, strides amongst the Silver Firs of those harsh lands. His followers struggling behind in the frost mist. New ones joining the lines everyday the, drawn to him by some mysterious force."
Orn himself was a past peasant hero and champion, in a largely rural and agricultural area, who dared to stand up to a conquering force, and inspire his fellows to do the same.
As the world grows and changes, so to do the gods. One such creature is Verdichtung, Reaver of Steam.
"In all my years of research, perhaps the best way I have found to summarize the Hermit of Wither Tor is the name given to him by the inhabitants of the Grassdancer ghettoes. These unfortunates call him, in their own tounge, AnÃ‚Â´rah GrunÃ‚Â´dar Ahr, which roughly translates into He-Who-Speaks-With-His-Fists....."
From "Locastus and beyond", by Darius Moak
I have lost everything which is dear to me… I am… Lacrimosa.
Scale and bone and tooth and claw,
All are symbols of His law
Mourn not the fallen, sick, or weak,
They are His to claim and His to keep!
In dark times people are willing to do and say anything for their salvation.
The dark wizard of Locastus, now long dead and gone….. Or is he?
"Humans think of plants as food and decoration, but they are living creatures in their own right."
Brine S’Vick is the Shark Lord, a giant man amongst the ocean curent.
One of the first prototypes of the Oraki, the red-headed Lilith remains one of the leaders of their race to this day.
The corrupted god of war, felled by the lost god of vengeance to his present pitiable state.
The Lord of Agony, He of Corpulent Pain
Life dies in my wake, sacrificing itself to my hunger
The Masque of Hunger
Sha’Dann, equine God of shadows, father of the vile Sasheem and his brother, Merindel, the fair unicorn.
The city of Nausopol is built on stilts. Lots of very sturdy stilts and butresses, of course, because it rises about five hundred feet from the ocean. Even the most terrific of storms is only heard in the city as a distant cacophony of blasts as waves strike the solid stonework fathoms below. It has never been attacked because of its isolation and impregnability.
It's not a place for the faint-hearted: vertigo and sea-sickness are not desirable traits. But when you are standing in the middle of the city there is no way you could tell that you were standing above an ocean, separated only by a gulf of air and a few stones.
A thousand steps lead down from Nausopol to the floating docks. These docks are pitch-coated wooden and can be raised by winches during squalls. Trade with other cities and countries is good: Nausopol is built over a sunken atoll whose minerals are still mined by divers, and it was from this that it originally derived its wealth.
But the principal method of getting to and from the city is by riding the giant sea-eagles which have been captured and bred for that very reason.