Death is an art form. Where can a single act that is repeated by every single life at least once in their lifetime and have multiple emotions involved in each one. I relate this in a similar manner as a dramatic play. You look into the audience at the height of the emotional act and you see ranges of emotion from everyone. I experience this every time I watch the eyes of a guasto widen and become cold to look at. You should witness this yourself, to understand your own immortality and how to overcome it. Look into the mirror as your life trickles away and the truth will be revealed.
- Janus Sanguine High Priest of the Jongleurs Sanguine
This is a novelty among the population and visitors alike. It is a freeform entertainment where those in the audience have the opportunity to get up on the stage and be an actor for the night. This has brought many would be actors who are trying to get hired by practicing their skills here. Entrance fees are larger than average but the entertainment is well worth it.
The camp was eerily quiet this evening. The fire itself seemed nervous enough not to crackle; the wind seemed too scared to whistle. These treks into the Blade Peaks always worry me, what am I doing here? I find myself asking that very questions even during the day time now, not just during the night. Tales of rangers heading into the peaks and not returning were always common, what worries me is that myself and the group of rangers are heading into these blasted mountains in search for one such group. How my life would be much better had I not learned the truth. The Oricks are here, small brutish little bastards for true, but ruthless and uncaring. I just want to return home. Wait, a sound in the darkness. A scrap? A grunt? oh no they are here!
- Ranger Arkisa, Last journal entry,
As we viewed the island from afar, I knew we would be forced to land there. Our hull was breached and we are taking on water rapidly. My hope of us making the island is grim, but I keep a face up for the crew. The rumors every sailor has heard of this dreadful place makes even the stoutest sailer make water. We shall see.
-Captain Edver Brakuars, Second to Last Journal Entry.
Out of the three giants I am hunting the jotun have been the most aloof. It seems like they stay out of my sight for a reason. Who knows. I will track them down as i have the others to gain their knowledge. Damn, even the surtur were not this hard. Wait, I hear a noise, a drum perhaps… I will follow to see if I can find the jotun.
-Aergais, Sage, Traveler, Historian. His last entry.
The hot sun was murder to my pale skin. I didn’t realize how harsh it would be, after all I read about the harshness of the burning sands who would have known that the tombs would be an understatement? I left my Lemiean guids yesterday, they refused to travel where I required to go. They are fearful of the Surtur, and frankly if what they tell me is true, I do not blame them. We will see.
-Aergais, Sage, Traveler, Historian
From afar I hailed the large man in the dialect of the keirn, thinking him to be friendly. To my surprize, the closer I walked to his large boat, the alrger he became, until he towered over my small frame. His frightning size and pose did little to hide his friendly face and then I knew, that I had found the Aegir.
-Aergais, Sage, Traveler, Historian
Some claim that the giants were the first mortals to walk the land in the wake of the spirits rising when the gods began breathing life into the souls that Kasal deposited on Hewdamia. As elusive as they are at times, here are my findings of their cultures in my search for the truth.
-Aergais, Sage, Traveler, Historian
And now the day was here, and the people had gathered for the spectacle of my punishment for show throughout the arena the bodies of those about to perish had led off a procession of their own death. My master was sitting there piling up favor derived from our blood. Although no one could know my fortune, my family, my father, because I was separated from my homeland by the sea, among certain spectators nevertheless one thing made me pitiable, that I seem inadequately prepared; truly I was destined to be a certain victim of the arena, no one had caused less expense for the giver of the games than I. One thing they do not know, while I may be inadequate in preparation, the fear of a cornered man knows no bounds.
-Agustine, prisoner of war and Gladiator
To see an Alerion, is to be blessed. The lords of the sky are a sign of good offering and an omen of well being. Welcome the feeling into your heart and let the warmth cascade into your soul. You will be a better person if you do.
- Daeser, Scholar and Wiseman.
The balance must be kept in check. Today you suffer my anger and wrath but tomorrow we shall dine and laugh. Forgive me for my duty my child, it is the way of Order. Choas today, Order for tomorrow.
- Priestess of Xukthalas preaching to a fallen foe.
Father of depths, of shadow, and destruction. I pray to thee to give me the strength needed to sweep through our enemies so that we may continue to bring about the end of the reign the weakling gods. In this I pray to serve.
- Follower of Sethalis praying for spells.
By the sun that burns the weakness from our very souls, I call out to thee oh Seeker of Pain and Strife, of War and Strength, so that I may please you in the battle to come.
- Warrior Priest of Perteum prayer before battle.
The priest’s ability of prayer as well as their divine spells comes not from themselves, but from their Deity. Because of this, very few abilities are personal to the priest as all others who have chosen this path or had it chosen for them. Even so, while most of their prayers and divine spells will be the same, there will be a few differences or a few different abilities depending on the deity that the priest worships. This is the codex of the religious followers of Hewdamia.
Brother, do not view me as an outsider. I am purely here to record what transpires and have no desire to step forth and interfere with the proceedings. It is my duty as an Apostle of Kameakias to record this so that the gods do not forget.
-Preist of Kameakias at the excecution of King Arboin for treason to his people.
The time has come, our Fathers’ child, to release yourself to His whim and enter into our warm and loving arms. He awaits you on the other side for judgment. Hush now, there is no worries once in his realm as pain and sorrow are no more.
- Priest of Kasal, speaking over a dying soldier.
The crowd erupted in a bright flash of multi-colored light, red and green flashing once each blinding those to near. The clash of metal on metal rang over the dinn of the voices of the market place. Cries of a fight swept through the streets ending up at the ears of the city watch.
“Someone broke a seal again. Thats to bad, as I didn’t want to have to kill anyone today.”
- Corporal Watesan, 2nd Shift of the day watch. Cerb City, Cerb.
What happens when the very fabric of magic is transformed into something else by accident. When the theories of transference are shattered due to lack of preperation and study?
As long as you do not experiement around your stash of magic scrolls, luckily you will never know.
From the bone dusted hills of Aadda, to the ocean foam of the pearly bay.
The children of the sweet legions frolic in the streets by day.
At night their games are different, and guards whisper of their skills and feats.
They say that nothing is safe, or too large, for the legions of the Knuckle Sweets.
- A song sung around taverns to honor the children gang.
The shamans of the Keirn tribe Ge’stam, would perform rituals of bonding on young warriors who had passed for their right to become warriors. The totem that bonds with the warriors spirit is powerful, yet needs to be cared for as would a suckling baby. Only the proud warriors of the Ge’stam know how to balance the two.
There is a small and strange nature-worship cult that has dedicated itself to freeing vegetables. They appear usually in working pairs or trios, arriving to villages and towns separately and wearing the local garb. For some reason, they have taken to disguising themselves specifically as a scholar, a cooper, and a fisher. At night, they will sneak into backyards and side gardens, digging up household fruits and vegetables. They pile the pilfered plants into a cart and vanish in the night. While the townsfolk wake up to empty gardens, the cultists replant the fruits in the wild to let them be "free".