Description:
Lore
Contents:
- History Of The Veil
- Old Spirits Awake
- Warm Winter Welcomes
- Ancient Tales
- Verdant Winds
- Lost Fields :: Addendum
- Miram
Lore Map
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History Of The Veil:
A New Beginning
In the ages far before the pages of The Great Records, there existed something of a world not vaguely unlike the current Veil. Even so, what preluded this creation is a mystery to all souls but the Seven gods, although you can tell by the scars left on the realm that something terrible befell it. The last remains of that world take many names, known to us now as Shadow, Plague, Chaos, Darkness, Corruption, Decay, and Vice. Thankfully, our current realm remains under constant vigilance of the gods, whose battle-torn hides remind us of our fragile existence. It is said by some, those who claim to know the past, that the Seven take mortal forms and have human names when they can find respite. You will find many of these people to be liars. It is standard protocol to refer to the seven only by their primal element, or should you feel vexed by one, their counterbalance.
Life and Light are the two great ruler elements, and take guidance from the lower council of Leaf, Wind, and Water. Below them, the primal elements of Fire and Stone serve as powers who spend most of their time as guards, using their raw physical strength to vanquish fragments. Turning to the pages on Mortals, the book is blank on what role our existence plays in this dance of Demons and Dragons. For some, reading into the text may lead to the wrongful assumption that we, too, are fragments from the past world. If you find someone who believes this, please bring them to the Castle Council for re-education.
Old Spirits Awake
Even with the best protection available - mind you, we have seven massive dragons out there defending us- some things still manage to make it through the cracks. The strangest of these beings is Aszerath. He poses as potentially harmless, with a stature much like ours and seemingly no purpose. You can find him residing in the furthest corner of the Veil, often tutting at those who stand near and complaining about having to stoop to our level. Be warned, citizens, that this being is a prime suspect for several crimes that have occurred recently. The most notable of these crimes, besides people turning into walking shadows, is the strange disappearances of book pages. Many people now report that their most important tomes are empty, their taxes unfiled, and every scroll within the northern hemisphere has been snatched. This would usually pose no issue, as most members of the Veil have helpful text to speech translators
that automatically convert whatever they are looking at into an easy to digest message. However, the Castle Council has now lost all records of taxes, fees, imprisonments, and citizenship papers. If you plan on keeping your gil, assistance with locating these papers will be rewarded greatly. Additionally, Aszerath seems to have plans to erect some sort of large tower- the location unknown- and begin conducting potion experiments from outside the reach of the castle's law - the providence's airspace stops seven feet up. Although this problem could be addressed with a quick meeting to redefine the airspace, local 7'2" tall man Newt Fetlock feels that forcing his hair to become a citizen would be immoral, and I personally agree.
Warm Winter Welcomes
Welcome, Mages! We, the Council, are proud to announce the opening of our new landmass to the public! We hope that you received the announcement signs well, and did not feel threatened from the mottos. If you did, please reconsider being scared, as it creates more paperwork for the next event we hold. Moving on, we have provided a luxurious space for you all to dwell in! You may find yourself excited at the list of accommodations we have made in order to make it feel more like your past home. The locations include such things as a demon field, a large gaping gash in the earth leading to the V O I D, and a quaint and charming bakery.
However, although we are proud of our work and pride ourselves on the inclusion of the demon field, please refrain from talking to or interacting with any creatures that you may find on our new home. This includes things such as wheat demons, strange deer, or moving shadows. If you do see one, keep your head down and avoid the area completely. The new map should be devoid of all natural life except for us, Citizens!
Ancient Tales
[ THIS PAGE HAS BEEN EDITED BY ORDER OF THE HIGH COUNCIL ] On a soft bed of heather and duck feather down, lay the queen and her lover, please don't make any sound.
Verdant Winds
Greetings, mages! Jessa has blessed us right on the equinox with the warm weather we have been craving. We have high hopes that you will mind the weeds as they spring up where ever they can; unfortunately, that is the way of the wild Verdant. (And to thwart her will would be to thwart our lives, as you know.) Recently we have noticed some of you have been fraternizing with a certain mage whose father was exiled from the Council for his decisions. We suggest that you report any strange stories he may tell- the NDA we had his father sign still has 2478 years before it expires.
If you do recieve any advice, remember to take it with a grain of calcium - those who have been exiled from the Council have their reasons and lies! We are also recommending to those of you that wish to collect everything you can from straying away from raiding gravesites for bones and other riches. There is nothing wrong with the graves. Do not disturb the graves. Always remember to keep your coffers stocked with enough Iiarberry Juice and Armor of the Drachenlieche as you can hold. This has been your lovely Council, wishing you the best in these times.
Lost Fields :: Addendum
Hello, mages! We hope that this letter reaches you well on these fine spring days. As many of you have noticed, our containment of the Lost Fields has found itself waning thin, and a few unlikely habitants have weasled their way back into the area. We suggest that for your upmost safety, you avoid this area at all costs- both day and night -until we can properly contain this anomaly. For your best safety, we suggest remaining indoors during the cold nights to avoid any possible malevolent actions, both demonblood and magehand alike. Unfortunately, we have found the need to further raising alarm about disturbing the bones in the fields. Every strike these demons make is a further chance at them creating more powerful and dangerous side effects.
These effects include, but are not limited to:
Phantom Forms
Inkbile Staining
Spontaneous Combustion
Location Shifting
- and many more wonderful prizes! Again, for the love of the Seven, please stop taking the bones. They are not what they seem. This has been your lovely Council, yet again.
Miram
Miram, a young life mage, feels a whisper on the wind tempting him, drawing him from his study.
It fills his mind like static, getting stronger the further he wanders down the ancient halls.
He traces his right paw against the stone wall as he walks further, his claws interlocking with the etched runes that have lain there for centuries.
His left paw is kept firmly on his forehead, the static droning into an overwhelming migraine, making it hard to see.
He slinks his way close to the wall, his grasp passing past stone, wood, brass, stone, wood, brass until a worn doorknob brings the writhing melody to a pause.
As he turns the knob, the sound turns into a mechanical whine, a wild creaking crescendo.
The latch clicks, and the door slowly drifts open, the knob gliding gently out of his grasp and freeing itself into the aether—finally, silence.
Stale air fills his lungs as he breathes in relief and slowly opens his eyes to dust beams drifting through a rotting library.
Most likely forgotten since the upper-level library was constructed, or accidentally cursed to be hidden from view.
Miram felt a sense of emptiness fill him as he glazed his eyes over the fallen, dust-covered bookshelves.
It felt like nothing was left to draw him forward but a personal sense of wanderlust — a place left forgotten in the grand scheme of things.
He slowly creaked across the plank floor, wood crumbling in some areas and creaking in others.
Inches of dust-covered some areas of the room, where the air currents brought it to rest finally.
Some books were left disheveled from their homes, perpetually open to obscure pages, "Creation through Destruction" and "Raw Materials from DemonBlood; Letter J."
A slight rustling noise pierced Miram's ears, swinging his head to the left in a quick panic.
A green glow flowed deep within a crevice, a hole, a wound of a cave wrought into the stone walls of the castle, leading down infinitely.
A mix of fear and curiosity filled his mind as he considered the consequences of going down within the cave.
The council could easily find out later, punish him, remove his magic ability, or do anything that they so wish if his meddling caused enough of a problem.
The static returned the longer he questioned his fate. Weighing the consequences of fighting a horrific migraine for the rest of eternity, or seeing the end of a story left untold rested heavily on his mind.
Tragedy - surrounded by thousands of books, none with the story this soul screams to be told, forcing his own will into the journey. The least he can do is honor the will of the dead.
He inched forward, his legs drawing themselves free from his will as they effortlessly stepped over the fallen furniture, gliding towards the lip of the cave.
As he crossed out through threshold of the cave, cold wind rushed through his soul, and the entrance behind him seemed to meld into solid stone. Onward we must go.
The glow drew itself further away from him, each step forward met in equal distance, seemingly forever chasing the tortoise.
He climbed over cobble to rubble to smooth cave stone, slick with spring water and mud. This place was ancient, far older than the castle itself, and the library was built around it.
The stone walls began to fade into smooth etchings of rune. Delicate grooves gracefully entranced the springwater and invited it to dance, faintly glowing with green.
He slowed his pace, admiring the delicate story told in bedrock, a language long forgotten. Modern runes seemed like imitations in the prescence of their power, each delicate letter held books worth of knowledge compared to the single characters he now wrote with.
The etchings had importance- that he knew- but of what, he could never to this day tell you. Their fate was not his. He hugged the wall as he walked, taking in the refreshing cool of the springwater.
It became harder to breathe the more he walked further- his gasps away from the wall were met with burning sensations, and the room felt more and more uncomfortable. He could feel in his soul that he was close to his next journey, his body struggling to withstand the heat he was now subjecting himself to.
Standing before him- with the air of an ancient monolith, was a wall of pure flame. He felt something within him stir again. His hand, soaked in the springwater, now drew itself forward out of his control, and dipped itself into the waterfall.
He could feel the springwater hiss and singe his body as he stepped through the Veil. On the other side, he felt nothing. Not "nothing", but calm. A peace inside of you like knowing you have nothing to do today, or tomorrow, or the next, or forever.
The soothe of knowing problems you had have been solved, that your dreams are okay. Safe. Home, finally.
As the tip of his tail dragged through the flames, he was gone from your world.
