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.

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

Death cults, worshipers of dark powers, necromancers, and eaters of the dead. Individually these cults are horrible in society and the repercussions can have lasting effects on those they influence and affect. But what if that not just a small group tried to influence their belief on a people, but an entire people tried to use their belief to take over the world?

A family heirloom, worn by the son of a fisherman, that raised them out of squalor and into nobility. What is in a man’s heart that can not be corrupted? What can turn the untainted into rage? Pray to the God’s and you never know the outcome.

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.

Have you or anyone you know ever been accused of a crime you didn’t commit? Been sent to the Hangman knowing you were innocent? Have you ever welcomed the noose to prove it?

When one views a knight from afar thoughts of chivalry and deeds of heroic good flood the mind of the youthful and dreamers. But what does it mean when someone takes those same ideals and alter them to a darker view? When the thought of chivalry of light is replaced with a code of darkness? The Tenets of Shadows prevail.

To the first or casual observer, this island sitting out in the ocean seems normal, if not heavily covered with lush trees and foliage. To those who have extensive nautical experience know something is amiss, especially since the island is never in the same place twice.

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.

"Hail! You there, farmer. We are in need of aid; do you have a temple or a priest? We ran into some bandits up the road there and are injured. Jonst won’t last much longer." A large man bellowed from the broken roadside.

"Of course stranger. You can find Luayas in the center of the village proper continue on until you see a large apple tree; she can aid your wounded. Please be gentle and offer tithes for her generosity." A gentle eyed man in homespun clothing, simple yet comfortable in the heat.

"Thank you farmer, we are in your debt. What does Luayas look like so that we might find her quickly? Does she stay by the tree often?" saying over his shoulder in thanks as he half pushed, half carried his companion along.

"No stranger." The farmer laughed, "She is the tree."

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.

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.

To kill a Unicorn is to bring bad luck and the hatred of nature itself down upon the foolish. It is said that the mate of a unicorn that is murdered will turn horrible in it’s pain and anger, turning against nature to hunt and kill the murderer of it’s mate. It turns dark and soulless and seeks nothing but the death of it’s enemy.

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 question was asked about how you run a high level campaign. While this is a simple question it is not very simple to answer. Anyone who is an experienced DM will tell you that, especially for a beginner. In order to answer this I began thinking backwards.

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.

From the depths of the void the masses crash through the Gates of Forlorn and wreak havok on the world of men. The flood is an unending tide of chaos and destruction that is everlasting. Their thirst for blood is surpassed only by the rising of the son, on it stands eternal. On the comming of the Flood, the children of the lost god will reign supreme on a charred world where the people are enslaved, and the rulers are Demonblood.

- Excerpt from the tome of Caedmon.

Having no real place to put this thought I decided to put it here. This is to be read objectively. This is my opinion and my take on the voting system.

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.