Old cultures since the dawn of written time have seen pictures in the night sky and asked questions of them. Who they were, where did they come from, and why do they return? The earliest efforts to distinguish these nightly visitors and give them names and meanings dates back to before the Contention of Aborior. Those first observations were different than what is seen today but most still hold true to their original origins.
Death and Resurrection
Life is commonly difficult, especially for those who choose a life of hardship and adventurous excitement. The cycle of life is never ending and continues its birth, life, death cycle for everyone. With divine aid and assistance, however, at times it can extend this cycle greatly, even halting it for a time. Death is different among nearly all game settings. Please read this with the understanding that it may not fit your particular game setting and style, but is an alternative.
And in the name of the great and powerful I command thee to return to your body, hearth and soul, so that you might walk again and continue in the gods plans.
See that. . . wait. . . what!?! NO! I knew it was too risky here. You have brought ruin to us all. Why you ask? Ready your weapon, a traveler has come.
-Father Hayden, performing a ritual on the deceased outside the protection of the church.
The Sundar family name was one spoken with honor and reverence. None were ever spoke ill of, and should a question arise of their honor and integrity it was quickly set right by those who knew them. Now they are a fallen noble family of disgraced knights who are fearless, emotionless, and uncaring for anything other than own survival and vengence.
Those who wear this item are usually laughed at and scorned for its appearance at first. It looks odd adorning the head of any warrior as it always seems a little too small and its thin strap that secures it in place seems far to fragile and loose to keep it in place when worn in a melee. However, when the wake of its powers catches up to those who scorn, their attitudes and lives change abruptly. The knowledge about this helm is vague but throughout history, events of a chaotic nature seem to follow in the path of this item, sowing the seeds of disorder and discord. However it is when all four of these set items are found and placed together, does true havoc reign.
I will be the blade that shines by the holy suns.
I will be the shield that protects by the darkened shadows.
I will be vigilant in my duties to protect the Gods and their flocks.
I will be faithful to the edicts of my brethren.
Above no other will I be fully given to but the gods and my brethren.
I will be pure and woe to those who are not true.
- Mirrored Hand Ceremonial Edict
A place of majestic views, amazing life, and hidden treasures. The secrets that the jungle holds in its folds are both breath taking and soul taking. When traveling to Bone Island one must be wary, not of just the tribal inhabitants and exotic creatures, but the secrets that the gods forgot.
The six demonic legions are extremely structured compared to their seemingly chaotic nature. While to the outside, those looking in to the hate and rage filled beast of nightmares all that is seen is a lust for blood and death and suffering. While that is true to some degree it is all for a purpose and all for a reason.
This is a detail of the structure of the demonic military ranks and their leaders.
The stone and I have the same desires,
Day in, day out.
We want by each other to be sought,
And we want to embrace each other taut.
The stone and I have the same desires,
Day in, day out.
An often misunderstood poem of the Heartstone rings.
The screeching and squealing sound pierced our skull like a hot poker edging at the back of our mind and taking over any free thought. We knew what it was that was coming for us and could run no more, trapped like a mouse in a maze we frantically ran in circles trying to get away from the inevitable. It towered over us like a frozen monster . . . wait . . . it was. It ran its limbs against its own body knowing what the sound did to us. We cried in agony and horror; in pain physically and mentally. Knowing the fate that would befall us we cried in tight balls on the floor . . . the sound . . . it stopped. I looked up to see it walking away, its shoulders heaving. If I didn't know better I would think it was laughing at me for my fear of it. I'll never know for sure, I hope against all hope that I never will.
- Srowley, adventurer and historian
Gods and Deities. The waking gods have tales and stories aplenty. Books and sermons dedicated to their prayers and beliefs fill many halls of many religious centers and the devout. Continued tales of their deeds abound fill those trying to fill the followers of their gods to the correct path of life. But what of the gods thought lost or who have died over the eons? Are they dead or just sleeping, staying out of sight from the eyes and prayers of man? Only the true dreams know the real answer.
In a prison without walls, without guards, and without law; what kind criminal would choose death over a prison such as this?
One destined to go to Hellgate Prison.
There! Did you see it that time? I swear someone is following us. I keep seeing torchlight through the damn trees. I'm telling you, something is following us.
Thom, your either seeing things or drinking to much. There is no one following us. See look . . . wait, they look . . . they look like spiders but they are on fire!
- Last words of Micha, Traveller and Explorer.
This item has been moved about the lands throughout the ages, lost and found by various people. Always it seems that the unsuspecting are the usual and unfortunate ones to find them. It is vague but throughout history events of misfortune and chaotic nature seem to follow in the path of this item, sowing the seeds of disorder and discord. However it is when all four of these set items are found and placed together, does anarchy truly reign.
Nobody, as long as he moves about among the chaotic currents of life, is without trouble.
- Carl G. Jung
“Malghoul Etra Galad Morta, Malghoul Etra Galad Morta!” This booming chant repeats itself over and over; I clutch my head wishing it to end. Physically it doesn't cause me pain, but my brain seems to want to explode from some unseen pressure. Wait something is happening, the bloodied mist has finally settled and I feel refreshed from my hard days. I wonder what this bloodied chalice has in store for me.
-Torren Wayhon, Adventurer, lost soul
Page 589, cat. Air Elementals, sub. Stalkers
Placing wards of cow tongues and sheep blood around doors and windows is said to scare off the proddingâ??s of stalkers. Many tales and childrenâ??s stories tell of the silent stalker that enters the cracked window or unlocked door in the dead of night to steal the breath from a sleeping child. Crib deaths are often blamed on this silent stalker even though it is not true.
-Essay on elementals, subsection Stalkers.
My fellow councilor’s, the entire watch was assassinated by the Arch-Duke of Torr wanting to open up a hole in the defense of the city. His intent was obviously to try and make it easier for him to conquer us.
But ser, how do we know for sure that you are right in your assumptions? After all you just recently arrived to the city and were unaware of the murders until we spoke of it here.
Ser! That is because I am a genius and you are not.
- Ser Marcus Hadokk, self proclaimed genius.
Ishchali has been known by many names, but Caedmon is what he is most widely known for on Hewdamia. His name means many faced, or four face and he is represented by his four different personalities. Most of his past is shrouded in mystery, his many names and faces represent the multi faceted nature of this divine being. Each facet, each face has a different personality and each has its own place and purpose in his plans for the future of Hewdamia, and all those that call him Master.
There is a common saying among those who visit and frequent the menagerie, "The feeling of godhood is there and everlasting, but one can spend their entire fortune within."
On some of the islands off the coast, the rites of the local fertility god revolve around ceremonial death and rebirth. The religion's priests have overcome this cycle, however: Each of them is actually undead, ceremonially slain and "reborn"! Their religion is otherwise unremarkable, being an odd offshoot of the mainland's religions. The priests vow to resist their undead cravings, seeing these as the "cycle of life" attempting to reclaim their spirits.