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.

Millenia ago the Gods changed how the mystical forces on the world were governed and used. No longer were the mortals able to pluck the power from the very air and use it. So they altered it, thinking the mortals were not clever enough to find a way to use it again. The God’s crystalized the magic and placed the power in the four elements of the world. Now mortals did indeed determine a way to use magic again, albeit at a much lower proficiency. Magic users now require a focus staff made of the very essence of magic. These crystal staves store the mystical energies required to cast spells, needing to be recharged over time. The magic users scribe, etch, or carve the spells symbols directly on the staves and focus the energy through the symbols.

In a world where it seems that even the smallest of ideals has a deity to call a patron, even bastards have a patron god to call their own.

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.

Ok, there is no real place to put this but I think it needs to be said and put up here for everyone to view. This is not for gaming terms, it is not how to view rules or your gamers better. But it is an idea on how to respect your fellow Strolenites.

The eyes of the all seeing are never ending. The truth can only be revealed to those willing to bear the burden.

His eyes opened in disbelief, the battered spectacles rising slightly on his brow. To everyone around him, everything was normal. As it should be. To his eyes, the light was nearly unbearable. An aura of energy filled his vision completely. He knew what it was he saw, what the others could not. He knew he saw the impossible, and he wanted it all for himself.

In the early days of Hewdamia, the Gods squabbled over the world and took what they could from the each other. There was little here but water and soil, yet the Three Gods fought over it still. The arrival of the newer Gods marked a turning point in the world as well as the Gods. The arrival marked the beginning of a war that wouldn’t see the first blow for centuries.

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.

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.

The call to Him is unnerving. The power He gives is unmatched. He is the reason why I turned my back on my God and now worship Him. I will live eternal for the trade of my Soul to a God. I can live with that.

-Rakeos -Follower of Sethalis, fallen Priest of Aduivo

The sound was most troublesome. Long have I been prisoner to Kormack and his evil designs, and the torturous sounds my heart has been cursed to endure has left me cold inside. I endure and ignore. Cold to the pain and the suffering of poor souls around me. Their Fate forsworn as soon as they enter His lair. But this, this atrocity has pierced my now icebound heart and cracked deep into my very soul. The children... The mewling babes that know nothing of their future, nothing of the joys of life. Innocent of horrors of the world and the dread future it holds. How short that future is. I can not get the sound of the mewling infants from my mind, it is seared into memory as a brand on an animals flank forever to remain. Some have even laughed right up till the end and nothing is more damaging to ones sanity than a broken childs laugh.

Master Blacksmith Heaf Astes

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.

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.

Blackrose Academy was built as a center for anyone wanting to learn. It houses some of the most intelligent and brilliant minds of its time. People would come from all around to study magic, languages, warfare and tactics, among other things. But that has changed.

A dice game of secrecy and side bets where even the looser can win.

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.

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

The second era started off in better light than the 1st era ended. For almost 500 years there was a rebuilding going on with the Gison, continued growth for the Olwynn, and understanding with the Derevo about the different factions in their families. Like all things, this time had come to and end.

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.

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.