Update!

Life is full of hardships. That much was obvious from the minute I left my home to make my fortune. Food and water are easy enough to get when you have gold, but gold is hard to keep when using roads less traveled or areas with no roads at all. Plenty of bandits watching from afar waiting for you to get just far enough from the settlements. Far enough from the monitored roads. It's what lead me to being on my knees for the first time with a blade to my neck for the first time. They knew using a Coup de gra on me would only lead to me fighting them to the bitter end to collect my goods again. So they kept me beaten up and on the ground as they sacked my wagon until everything was gone. Only after did they finish what they started, and they fled fast enough you'd swear they spotted someone with a Talent for throwing meteors.

When I returned from being nearly dead I was greeted by empty pockets, no weapons, and a lack of any valuables. They weren't hungry enough to steal the bread and water I had. Less room for the gems, metals, and jewelry. I was saddened but I was angry as well. This wasn't an end, but a reset. I'll travel this road again, and this time i'll bring some friends.

Lore contest?! Awesome! Good luck with this! Maybe I will toss some of the Bay's lore in here. :P

The stories for the Askor family were well known to the members of the house, though the tales themselves were never grand or filled with tales of massive accomplishments or heroic deeds, they held true honor, bravery and unwavering loyalty. The family had always known their place and cared not to reach out beyond their station to risk crumbling or facing corruption within the house. Better to always stay within the means and role of which they had always played. At least that had been the general feeling of the house.

The Askor house had been one of humble origins, but always involved in the military. There wasn’t a soul in the household that couldn’t wield a blade with surprising skill. They were simply a talented family though not talented enough to truly impress upon the battlefield or be raised in station, nor did they ever have a mind for strategy or tactics. They were just warriors through and through.

Everything changed for the Askor family regardless of their constant attempts to remain stagnant in their role. All starting with Nardar Askor, by all accounts one of the most accomplished of the family as far as skill with arms were concerned and had been honoured many times by the commander of his unit for his ability, still never enough to draw too much attention or praise from those above a troop commander. Oddly enough his loyalties had never been to the crown as he always felt the crown had become exceedingly corrupt and was instead solely loyal to Vesir Torrin the leader and general of their band. He idolized him and admired their family line of always being honourable to strength and decency. So in the year 535 when Vesir decided to leave the kingdom, there was no hesitation for Nardar to force the whole family to leave behind their modest belongings and follow whom Nadar believed to be the greatest of men.

The path was not an easy journey more for the Askors as they were fighters not wanderers or explorers, still they traveled on forced into the march by their head of house. Along the way Vesir was gifted with a son whom he named Vlajid, whom he named immediately to be the future and raising star of their house in the new land they were aimed to settle. They soon arrived in the land occupied by the Oakenroot, these were a strange people, believing in knowledge and peace rather than warfare and it made Nardar feel out of place. Still he desired to follow Vesir Torrin wherever his path may lead them.

It wasn’t long though before their original home had come for conquest as they were bound to do, being a warrior nation. Nardar understood that call to battle even if the wars themselves were bloodthirsty. Still they planned to invade a region that had now become more of a home to the Askor family so Nardar was quick to pick up his blade to join the fight when Vesir desired to join in the battle to protect this peaceful land. Much to his dismay though there was no true battle or warfare and it remained in deadlock, stalemates always just staring out across to their enemies, neither wishing to truly fight former comrades.Peace was soon established though when Aelshore turned it’s armies away to expand in other directions not lined with former soldiers of their nation.

Vesir wed after three years in this region, to a woman of the Oakenroot, Nardar paid little attention to these givings and only wished to settle in a new home so they might return to their rights of true battle. So after the wedding Nadar got his wish, the company packed up their troop gaining additional followers from the Oakenroot following this former seeress that Vesir had married. The band travelled for two years until they finally settled in a new land they called Lysoria, where they all settled. The town grew in such size and eager for battle Nardar had been one of the first to sign up for the expeditions to subdue the surrounding region. As those of high position moved on to settle their own smaller regions and towns and turning Lysoria from a bustling town into a County of its own right. That is when the Askor first gained it’s higher position. Nardar had been recognized by Vesir and offered a place with his family to become an important role in the County of Lysoria. Given that many had left for greater titles and honours, there was now a vacuum of power. Nardar became one of the main guard for Vesir and served that post for the remainder of his life. Raising his family and his son Vlajid to be a great warrior to one day take his place.

In the year 582, famine struck the land and given his old age Nardar was one of the first to fall, he was given every honour for his long life and dedicated service to Vesir. Vlajid was given the head of house title and asked to serve as the new guard for the Count. Sadly the famine claimed the Count’s life all the same a year later and much to the horror of Vlajid the count’s wife, Fyrsiryn, claimed her own life on his watched and felt disgraced in the failing of his duties even though he was not blamed at all for the event. That weight carried with him the remainder of his life and led to the eventual ruin of favor for the family in the years to come.

The line of the Askor still continued to serve the Torrin line though in a diminished capacity after the former royal guard Vlajid became a drunk crushed by the weight of his guilt. The family still continued to serve in the military regardless determined to rise back to their former station.

It wasn’t long until they believed they had found their chance to rise again in the ranks when their former homeland came once more in war. In the year 669 the Xeilias kingdom razed the records for the Oakenroot including that of Lysoria. So war broke out with the Torrins rallying their troops on the kingdom. The Askor line fought bravely losing scores of members of the household in the battle and leaving it with numbers close to being no more. Those that remained traveled to Bloodoak to live there and attempt to rebuild their line once more.

In the near 22 year war that raged with Xeilias, the family of Askor had much removed themselves from the battlefield and looked to secure their numbers, training and traditions once more and so the remaining members spread their seed wide to gather numbers back into the fold. At the end of these 22 years they had been able to muster their own company of warriors at a ripe and young age. It was then that they heard tales of a new force rising in the midst of the war, The Dread Legion. This was led by yet another Torrin and remembering the family pledge to the line many of the young ventured off to join this company of warriors to bring the end of the Xeilias rule.

In this fight they had regained much of their former glory and in the year 696 when the war ended and the Kingdom of Arthos accepted the Torrin county of Lokkairn into it’s realm of which they served as household guard to the Torrin line once more.

In the year 713 divide through corruption of the crown came once more and so the new face of the Torrin line Resyor, having been banished left once more to reclaim the lands once lost to his ancestors. The Askor family decided to follow and in doing so called out to the remaining line that had growth in Bloodoak to join them in the settling of their former home. Almost the entire family came to join in the effort and made up a large portion of the military force manning the newly reclaimed fort. It was only four short years until they had heard about the fall of the corrupted kingdom of Arthos that they had fled.

In the years to follow after the death of Resyor the Torrin line passed on command of The Dread Legion to the Evendusk’s and so many of the Askor line left to follow in this war band. But a number of them remained behind to continue their following of the Torrin’s and soon became known as the main branch of the family still serving as household guards. Still the family desired to raise itself once more and word soon spread of a secret fight soon to come. It was in this battle that Ullsaard Askor made a name for himself.

With the help of King Richfort and the Kingdom of Kairos, the armies swept in to rout out a corrupt duchess. Much to the dismay of Ullsaard, though being fresh out of training with his kin, they had been placed in a group of troops with a commander of little in his mind, he had been given orders for his troops and saw little reason to alter those plans regardless of the flow of battle. Ullsaard being much more developed than those previously of the Askor line had studied much with the Oakenroot while in his combat training his family required of him. So he saw a large chance for strategy that the commander refused to heed.

In the battle the force he was in was quickly swept up in a flanking maneuver from the enemy and the commander of the troop broke rank and fled the field to save his own noble arse. This was the moment that Ullsaard jumped to action. He called together his kin and they drew in other warriors that were battling the horde of enemy troops. They formed themselves in a group of shield circled to protect themselves from all sides.They battled back against the crushing wave of troops hoping against all hope the reserves would make it in time to save them. Though his strategy was sound and strong, killing many of the enemy. The battle was long and tiring and soon members of the group began to fall.

Ullsaard saw his kin fall one after another until he was the last man standing, with no sign of the reserves in sight he thought it might be the end for him as well. Clearly the enemy thought so as well and became lax in their attempts, but that was where they made their mistake. They thought they were taunting him, breaking his will to fight further, they pulled his kin out from the bodies and began mutilating the dead in front of his eyes. The years of battle training with the Askor family teachings steeped in war rushed through him. Rage swelled until he was no longer a man but a beast of death. He suddenly moved with deft precision sweeping across the field of battle, slaughtering the enemy one by one. The screams of their men filled the arm so loud to this day many claim they can still hear the ringing in their ears of that day. That is how the reserves began their march out to the field to look into the matter.

Upon arriving on the battle scene it was just death all over, the field scattered with limbs and blood, it truly looked like no one was left alive here so the reserves whose task it was to take up position in this space now walked through the eerie scene. They soon happened on Ullsaard covered head to toe in the blood of his foes, victims more like. Just asleep on his feet, dead to the world after the battle, the weariness had taken over him and he slept where he stood. The men of the reserves had him taken back for treatment then as the continued the fight in his place.

Ullsaard awoke in the following days, the battle over and the Duchess defeated, he was in a daze not knowing where he was or what had happened just knowing his wounds had been treated and he was in a tent he did not know. Still half naked and bandaged, tired and dehydrated he stumbled out of the tent into the arms of the guards that awaited him. They helped him and told him he was wanted once he awoke in the tent of the new Duke Kurisio Torrin. In that tent he was first questioned though he could remember little, then transitioned into a moment of praise. Kurisio told him that they had found his cowardly commander fleeing from the field of battle and noble or no he was beheaded for desertion. That noble just so happened to be the last of his line and the head of a house that had much in the way of land. Given his bravery on the field Kurisio personally offered Ullsaard his title and made him Ser Ullsaard Askor, though he was later informed the men referred to him as “The Terror of Death” after the bloody scene they had found him in, the screams they had heard and the fear of the enemy troops that refused to enter any portion of battle that flew a flag of the Askor family. It was from here that Ullsaard took these lands and at the young age of 20 had decided he had plenty of his fair share of war, battle and killing and settled the lands given to him as Count. All his family had ever known was war and so Ullsaard found it fitting that his territory should be one that strove for the peace he so longed for. Knowing that permanent peace would never be possible, he made a vow that with his family, they would start an academy in the County to train the people in the arts of war to have a force that could withstand future wars and so were founded the Askor Knighthood, while he took his County’s seat of power and city Belisaere and made it a peaceful place. A city focused on crafting the tools that would be needed for war, focused on making the best gear possible for the people in his forces to save lives. While also raising mounts that would be the best for providing a mounted force. True war horses like the world has never seen, all in the hope and desire that with his reputation and the strength of the forces in his realm that peace could be something to achieve.

Jararaka – Who Lies In Wait

We are taught to conquer all lesser beasts, to take their spirit into ourselves and so grow stronger. The strength gained from defeating lions and bears is undisputed.

But all creatures, large and small, have a boon to grant those who would conquer them. And not all conquests require a life lost.

It was many years ago when unblooded Jararaka hunted in the jungles, seeking that which would earn him his right to a Trophy Tree. One night he travelled with a companion, Berok, and they crept slowly under a moonless sky, spears in hand, a great cat in their sights. They moved with the thoughtless excitement of youth, careless and unafraid.

There was another hunter they did not see. The one with eyes unblinking who watches all things at all times. It watched their every move and yet they noticed it not. For their eyes were fixed on their prey and blind to all else.

And so in haste and ignorance, Berok trod upon the serpent, and it struck. It sunk its fangs into Berok’s calf and he called out in pain, alerting the great cat to their presence. And a moment later, their quarry was gone. Jararaka angrily stepped back toward his companion, disregarding the wrathful hiss of the serpent, and so too was struck.

It was a small thing. Its death would earn no Trophy Tree. Yet the pain from its bite was fierce and unrelenting.

Ashamed and in agony, the two began to retreat to the village, for the shamans would have treatments. But the venom was quick, burning through their bodies, and neither of them made it back before collapsing on the jungle floor.

Berok did not survive.

But Jararaka’s night was spent in a fever dream in which he saw all the world’s serpents, large and small, those that used venom and those that used their overwhelming might, all the most patient of hunters. All snakes are Janoa, he knew then, for they were the truest of the Faedin. For the serpent consumes its prey completely, leaving not a trace behind. Body, mind, and soul swallowed whole, taken unto itself.

So do we of Jararaka’s lineage.

We partake in the Hunt, but not for Glory. We hunt for Understanding. We hunt as the serpent hunts – to take all things into ourselves, wholly and completely—and so become the most enlightened. And when we strike, we strike to kill. Harm alone is never our intention. Only the serpent itself has nothing to fear from us. For when we trap them, it is only that we may use their venom, that we may better understand their wisdom. And then they are freed, as Jararaka was freed from the venom’s hold all those years ago.

We know that the boon of the serpent is not in its venom though, nor its strength, nor the speed of its strike.

Patience is the boon of the serpent.

So we lie in wait.

And when a desired soul comes near, we strike.

Wow, already getting some great submissions on day 1!

Thanks for the well wishes Seli, and thanks to our participants so far. <3

The morning sun is truly a marvel, its bright and warm, and a great way to stretch and shake off the effects of sleep and especially today, when I have an extra special luxury. I tend to the washing of clothes for tomorrow, I ensure the cleanliness of bandages in case something happens, and the ointment supply which is near emergency state of needing replacing. The fishing lines need to be checked for weakness along with the rods that support the line, and the bows and arrows I have been able to acquire along my journey for bow structure weakness and string retention.

And of course, my most pressing project, cannot be tamed, they say, they are too aggressive and stubborn they warn me. Many have tried all have failed, this I already know. This is my fourth attempt now at this project, but till summer's end, when I’m expected back within the Kingdom borders, I will keep trying.

Even now, they are aggressive even with me. But this is their nature, and as such we have to respect this difference. Coming up to waist height of most mann, these two have shades of grey fur and long slender ears, sharp canine teeth dedicated to ripping flesh from animals it preys on. Their front paws tailor made for grabbing and holding onto its target. Their hind legs are suited for jumping and leaping distances I am still trying to measure.

Thou I am under no illusion, that if they had wanted to, these often times cute but deadly-dangerous creatures could rip me to sunder without anything I could do, yet they still walk freely around my camp.

These carnivores easily kill a Trison which is larger than my small mann form and much bulkier too. Having an impressive diet of meats and using trees to sharpen and trim their claws these creatures are playful, but typically their play leads to the death of the creature.

With these Carnis Rabbits in toe, the chores done and the sun slowly working to midmorning, we set off for what I would hope would be an entertaining event on the beach with these rabbits never having explored sands. My toes in the sand, the sun now at midday, the new terrain a surprising adventure for the rabbits. Before long, they are dusting themselves in the new sand condition but still superstitious about the water.

When talking to others before I started this project with the Carnis Rabbit, they often tried putting them in cages, and noticed they would never stop attacking things that came near them. Carnis Rabbits are social creatures in the wild, but after being in cages become anti-social, don’t recreate hunting tactics of tandem support to flank targets, and seem quite unstable if they are ever released from that environment.

For my second attempt, I tried this method, having them freely roam, it didn’t work out well, and I hate to admit it, I had to put them down in fear of my own safety and that of others working with me.

With open fields as large as the eyes can see, the space to run, jump and in this moment kick sand up in the air, these Carnis Rabbits, simply like freedom and become separated from their normal instincts when that is removed from them, lashing out then becomes their way of coping with the situation. My current set, specially selected for this purpose have been with me for a few months before I set off on my own. it would seem, the new locations we travel is to their liking and we have formed somewhat of a bond.Doing as they please they still return to camps I setup, and have slowly become used to the fires that are lit.

My hope, is they can be useful for those seeking protection travelling the long roads and distances with a cart near them. Protecting both person and goods for sale. They love to roam different landscapes, love open and hunting conditions, and when provided this, seem to be fierce and loyal, but not knowing when their own strength is too much for the objects they are interacting with.

Dislodged sand stings my eyes after being kicked up from the Rabbits play, I get to my feet alarmed this might be a possible attack and soon claim when I see they aren’t paying me any mind, I think my presence is being tolerated for the moment, and they still allow me to stroke their fur which is a delight I will cherish for the rest of my life. As I look towards the edges of the beach, I discover growing a bushes upon bushes of a plant I didn’t expect to see here.

Taking in small delights with pleasure, my Duchess will likely be impressed by this. Rushing to the camp, I collect some jars, cloths, and other tools, and set back to the plant I have discovered.

Using my canteen, I wash some of the leaves, take a small clip of a leaf and smell the strong scent of its oils being reminded of the scent of the plant, I taste it and confirm this is a small delight that will provide a small comfort is Peppermint.

Like all mints this Peppermint plant will spread like a weed if allowed to, will bloom flowers, and has red veins along the underside of the leaves we can harvest for food stocks.

Collecting a large supply of Peppermint from the bushes with no buds on them will give the perfect supply we need for winter, those with closed bud will be perfect for repopulation back within the Kingdoms borders, the ones with flowers can be sold to markets on my journey back to the borders. And as for the flowers themselves? The flowers will be my delight, perfect of a light tea before bed, and great for settling an uneasy stomach. There is enough here to make this a worthwhile journey of itself. If my plans with the Carnis Rabbits pans out like I want, this trip will be a delightful one.

Some of the clippings are wrapped in a damp cloth that will add to my morning rituals of watering, some placed in a jar of water, with a touch of sugar to keep them growing and prevent them withering. The winter supplies are grouped into bundles and tied tightly where it was cut. Just in case someone back home has developed a means of testing soils, I too collect a few jars of the soils and a bit of the sand too, and label every batch, with its own unique codes and as much information I can gather here out on the beach.

My delight in finding this plant is saddened by a sound behind me, something large in the water splashing and growling. It wouldn’t be the Carnis Rabbits, that isn’t a noise they make even in distress, I turn, and surging from the waters, is a grey rippled skin with a long body designed for water travel, its stilt-legs keeping its belly from touching the ground below, its feet webbed as if to make it even faster in water. This creature, which is a first sighting for me, would become known as a Kaprogator, a fierce creature that will hunt anything that near it.

But, right now, in this state my emotions clouded my judgement, I dropped everything, ran to the rabbits who had no concept of the dangers they could face and tried to lure this Kaprogator away. And I did, for a time, it was thanks to onlookers that my life was saved that day, for otherwise I would have been a happy meal for this new creature.

Those that had rescued me saw the Carnis Rabbits as something to be feared. In my weakness, and moments before passing out, I pleaded with them not to harm them, for they are decently nice considering their natures.

From the Kaprogator, I suffered a dislocated shoulder, impressive bites on my arms, and a broken leg. Considering my condition, this is a miracle that these people where in this place and came to my aid, for the Kaprogator is truly a mann eater.

Over the winter, I was recovering from my injuries, I found home outside the Kingdom of Aranor and even further away from the comforts of home within Evertide. I take great delight in the company of two Carnis Rabbits who every morning, got up and come to me, as if to motivate me to come for a morning walk with them, to busk in the sun that will slowly bring back the long days of summers warmth.

It was a great pride to see some of my traditions where being reflected in the rabbits. I am becoming ever attached to them, and also fearful if my plans don’t work for these fine creatures. But onward I press for this is something that needs to happen.

My time with these people sees me leaving their graces as a sad day, I had stayed with them over winter and most of autumn. While with them I taught them a few things with the plants around their location, took flower samples to dry and press, and seeds to maybe repopulate back within the Kingdoms border.

My time out and about is always an adventure, and now looking back on it after a long life’s work, this was the start of something wonderful, my son, the Worldography Investigative Founder, would grow with the same traditions and energy for world around us, exploring the locations, mapping the lands and the skies, and planning for the future. For this is what mann does, we seek to better ourselves and enrich things we interact with. To roam free, to jump and dance where you are, embrace the morning sun, and take life as it comes. For today and now is all you may have. My son’s legacy started with me, one of my most successful lives works is raising him, along with a small litter of Carnis Rabbits, and still fearing the time I let Carnis Rabbits interact with a baby child.

Worldography Investigative is part of the Duchy of Evertide, within the Kingdom of Aranor on the NW-W servers of Chronicles of Elyria.

This guild seeks to understand, document, research and develop five key aspects of gameplay. Cartography, Stellar Cartography, Flora Laboratories, Fauna Observatories and generic Biodiversity Research. We work with anyone willing to learn and understand these goals, wish to trade and supply where demands are, and to help foster communications between people.

He aha te mea nui o te ao He tangata, he tangata, he tangata

What is the most important thing in the world? It is the people, It is the people, It is the people.

Gay He Tàngåtá

Diaries of elder Zizira Zamphox, part I

The Zamphox family always took pride in its ability to adapt. I remember when my grandmother told me and my older sister Zitala stories of our history when we were little. Telling me the about the times we were one of the few brave enough to do the hard choises. She told me about the times when our fertile plains, that fed us for thousands of years, were ravaged by floods, destroying homes and families, as well as the terrain itself. Our people found themselves in marshes living off whatever disgusting sources of nourishment the bog provided. Frogs, snails, worms... people... at the most dire times... But we survived. And then the droughts came, as sudden as the floods. We had to go. Leave this cursed place. And we did. Along with people who were wiling to join us. There were not a lot of them, barely 50 people. The To'Resk that got it the worst, poor, old and disabled mostly. Our kin called us traitors and cowards, cursed us as we left with nothing but our miserable lives. Yet we knew we would not be missed.

We went east, not looking back, until we found ocean water again. We crossed the whole continent. No more then 15 of us now. But we made it, that's what mattered. We settled the land, nurtured and worshiped it like a deity, grateful to it for welcoming us, giving us a chance to survive, giving us hope.

I remember how beautiful the town I was born in was, so full of life, children running everywhere, me and Zitala swimming in the great river, smiles on everyone's faces and laughter echoing off the waters. We had a mayor called Rawech... something? For the death of me I cannot remember his last name. I remember him being fair and generous, with that kind smile he was always wearing. He always seemed very lively. People that met him for the first time always got a little scared by him, he had this red tint to his eyes and looked a bit sickly in general, they always grew to like him though, except my sister, she was always a bit of a coward. The mayor often held celebrations in his villa, inviting everyone who would like to come, after their work is done and the sun is set. I should have figured it out. I would now. But I was too young, and even adults didn't.

We had this tradition, a bit barbaric when I think about it now. When someone was getting too old, or was incurably ill, people would hold a feast in his honor, and at the end of it he would walk into the waves, and he would not come back, the "Last Wave" as we would call it. The person was never forced of course, but they were always willing, which always bothered me. I never really understood that, how can one just end his own life? How bad the pain must be.

One day my close friend I knew all my live got sick, a girl named Najaa. She was always with me and Zitala, I though she was my sister too when I was even younger, out families were very close. I still remember her, every detail of her face, the sound of her voice... She could have fun doing anything, or nothing at all, I always loved her for that, she could always cheer me up.

One day her eyes suddenly turned milk white, she stopped talking completely. Her parents let us visit once, she was just walking around the room, looking at the walls or the ceiling. I recall her mother was whelping behind me as I started uncontrollably crying too. I ran off the house where granma was waiting, Zitala behind me, crying even more, gran carried us home. This was not the first time we had people with this illness, same conditions in all of them, it was not infectious and we always had only one person sick with it in the whole town. No one ever recovered, we all knew how this would end. It was soon the time for the Last Wave feast.

I could not get out of the bed when the day came, crying through the whole night, did not want to believe this was really happening. But it was. Zitala went to watch, say her last goodbye, she said we owe it to her, I think that was the day she stopped being a coward. I heard the loud cling of the cups from outside, which meant the feast was coming to an end. Zizala was right. It was happening. I needed to be there, to honor the life of Najaa. I hastily dressed up and ran out of the house, the crowd of people almost hid behind the hill following the road to the ocean, setting sun behind them blinding me eyes for a second. So I ran as fast as I could, falling and bruising my knee quite badly and hands. I was too late. As I got to the beach, pushing my way through villagers I fell on the sand. The Last Wave ceremony was finished. Najaa was gone... forever... and I did not say how much I loved her... how much she meant to me. Zitala hugged me around my shoulders, how was she so strong? I know she was older then me, 18 at that point, but still! Why wasn't she crying? I know she loved her as much as I did. I hated her at that moment, I hated everything and everyone really. I pushed her away and started running.

I ran towards the cliff overlooking the beach, three of us hanged out there from time to time. As I climbed to the top, panting, I realized how much my knee hurts, I bruised it pretty bad. But I did not care. It didn't matter. Nothing did. I sat down, hugging my legs, and started crying again, or maybe I didn't even stop all this time. The moon was out at this point, shining over the waters, there were no waves that night, the ocean was calm as the death itself. And then I saw something. The sudden splashing, I thought nothing of it at first, just the moonlight playing with my eyes. But no. Someone was swimming, but that was impossible. Waters of this beach were forbidden to swim in, this was absurdly disrespectful to the dead, or was it Najaa? Could she possibly survived? And got cured too somehow? Whoever the swimmer was, he was swimming towards the beach, a bit north from me. I got up and ran in that direction. The person got out of the water, I still could not see who it was, but the frame of the body was small. This could be her. She sat down on the sand and put the palms of her hands on her knees. My trail of thought suddenly broke as I tripped over a rock and started rolling down the hill.

I hit a tree with the front of my head as I came to a stop, I do not know if I passed out there, very likely. Wiping blood from my face as I open my eyes, the pain from my leg hits me as I bite my teeth in pain, one tooth fell off, landing on the tree root near me. My knee is a dirty mess of meat at this point. I crawl around the tree, and look at the beach, lit be the moonlight. I can see the person sitting there now, it is Najaa. How? Why is she just sitting there? Unmoving and not screaming for help. She turns her head, I follow her gaze. Somebody is walking towards her. The man moves closer, he walks fast, but not running. Confident, elegant steps. Slim stature. Teeth sticking out of his mouth, longer then a usual To'Resk teeth are. A lot more. He kneels down beside Najaa, tilts her head and bites into her neck, she does not scream, does not fight, nothing. Then I finally understood. Its a vampire. Najaa is hypnotised. I have read about them in the books, they can do that. But she was sick, for so long, and tradition states that it takes about a month until the Last Wave can even take place. I hold my mouth shut as I start crying again, but a whimper still escapes. The man turns his head, looks right at me, and smiles.

I know that smile, its the mayor... Rawech... No... All these people... It was all him. He starts running towards me. I get up, panicking. Where could I run? Back up the hill? When I fell I did not roll all the way down the hill, the tree stopped me. So it should slow him down. I started climbing back up, the knee was killing me. I finally made it to the top and started running towards the village, as I fell again. Rolling down most of the way down the hill, luckily that side of the hill was covered with sand and my landing was more or less safe. I ran to the village, screaming, sleepy faces of townspeople start showing themselves out of the houses. I fall again, this time my head hits the stone pavement. Everything went dark.

I woke up as the sun touched my eyes, wiping the dry blood off my face as I sat up, before me lays elder Lonmo, with the right side of his neck missing, I thought then, that he looked like someone attacked by a wolf would. I let out a short scream and pushed myself back with my legs, holding my face with my hands, the smell is nauseating, my head was spinning. I looked around. The whole town was covered in bodies, most dismembered, laying in unnatural angles. And blood. So much blood... Most doors hanging off the hinges, windows broken. I crawled towards my home, broke my nail climbing the steps of our front door. I heard a quiet whimpering, recognizing the voice of my sister. I tried to get up, to open the door, but I failed and fell on the steps. The door wouldn't bulge, something was holding it closed. I pushed again, and again, it finally opened as I fell, carried by momentum. I saw my grandmother then. And lost my consciousness once more.

Go to part II

Ill continue this later and put it somewhere on the forum post page of my city, or I can put it here if you guys like it, and it is ok. I thought its pretty long already so I stopped here.

More great entries! I think im actually going to submit something myself when I get off work, even though I cannot win my own contest :P

And of course Zamphox feel free to submit your part 2 here. Ill only count part one for the contest, but this is meant to be fun and engaging. The more participation the better :D

Diaries of elder Zizira Zamphox, part II

The neighboring town saw the lights from one of the houses catching on fire and came to help us, me and my sister were the only survivors. I've been put in an orphanage, Zitala didn't, of course. She was 18 when we got here. She came to visit sometimes. But not as often as I would like her to. I often felt abandoned by her, but at some point I understood. For a while I didn't even think how hard it must have been for her, she had to feed herself, live somewhere. I never even asked how she was doing when she came to visit me. But she looked well. Maybe that's why it didn't cross my mind.

Today Zitala came to visit again, she changed a lot after the incident, I guess I did too. Of course we did, how could we not be changed by that. But I miss her old self so much, I need her like she was before. Because I myself am crumbling, breaking down, I feel it. She has this miserable look on her face, I cant quite pin down what it is. Pity? Does she pity herself? Or maybe me? I sure do not feel pitied by her, she is quite distant actually. I wonder if I look like that too.

Me and my sister finally had a good talk. She says she married a man named Hentrar, he is a To'Resk too. Which is rare in these parts. She says they have to leave. The kingdom is sending colonists from different towns to settle a new city. It will be called Khersoness. Hentrar will be leading the colonization efforts. Which makes him a mayor. I'm not a big fan of mayors as you would imagine. But he seems nice. He has kind eyes. I asked Zitala to take me with them. She said its too dangerous. I have a feeling she is lying, but I do not know why... I asked if he is treating her well, she says he wouldn't hurt a fly, definitely not her. He should be quite wealthy too, does she eat well? Why does she look so pale? She says she is fine. Lying again... I could always tell.

Its been 2 years since she left. I'm 18 now so I have to leave the orphanage. I did not feel scared for a long while. But now I am. This shady man walks in the orphanage. I've seen him before, he comes every time a girl is old enough to leave. His name is Yást. A Janoa. About twice my size. He says I have nothing to loose and nowhere to go, as he looks me up and down. I ask him to tell me something new, as I fumble a knife handle in my pocket.

I know she doesn't want me to come to Khersoness and find her. I still do not know why, but I am sure of it. I heard the news that the city if prosperous, but it grows slower then expected, the king sends new settlers but people do not seem to stay there, for whatever reason. Maybe one day I will visit. I wipe the blood off my knife on the mans white shirt and cut the coin pouch from his belt. Yást was doing well for himself, the pouch is quite heavy. Heavy enough to start over. I take the jacket from one of the henchmen and put it on, to cover my torn up blouse, as I step over the second of his men, almost slipping on blood. The jacket is too big, but its sturdy. I'm sure it will serve me for a long while. I heard the Tryggr trade ship is leaving the bay soon. Which surprised me at first. Hard to imagine Tryggr merchant.

Captain Deshap had kind eyes, the type of eyes I learned not to trust. But he was a decent man. A brave man, for a Neran. Didn't help him much when the canon ball hit him square in the chest. Before that we got blown off course by the storm, sail damaged badly. Then we spotted a fellow Tryggr ship, as they got closer to us the flag changed to white skulls on black fabric. Most of our crew died in the storm. But the cargo we were transporting, I imagined they would like to stretch a little. I found the keys on the goo that once was called captain Deshap, and threw them between metal bars of the cargo deck ceiling.

The pirates fought well, but they lost. The Privateers the called themselves... Right... A weird thing to scream out loud, I thought, as they boarded the ship. One of them rigged some gunpowder barrels on the lower decks of their ship to explode as the battle was close to ending. So I am stuck on a ship with no sails. At least the slaves did not kill me yet. I wonder where the current will take us as we try to fish out floating provisions from exploded ship. I think of Zitala, for some absurd reason.

Go to part III

Excerpts Documenting the Door's fall incident, Sulvrosa Family Archives

(Dark brown stain obscures the date) 4th era

My family has decided that for the purposes of making trade with the surface people easier we should move to the settlement near the Doors to the low land forests. Many of the other clans of our settlement consider moving closer to the surface and the Neran folk shameful but they bring stability in the food that can be purchased and wealth in the form of trade. It’s a gamble but with the wars to the north cooling down Weapon smiths like my father are not being called upon as much as they were and with so much competition for resources it’ll be hard to maintain ourselves on this side of the mountains.

My personal opinion is even though we move the future is brighter on the warmer side of the mountains. There are always rumors of wars to the south and with so many wars down there trade for weapons will be good and my uncle and his masons should be able to find people interested in stone work for the first time in a while. Who knows maybe I’ll find one of them tall Neran ladies to be worth a tumble between the sheets, or not either way about it I help my family with packing our clan’s archives tomorrow and then we did the ghost ivy and pot it up to take with us.

(later in the diary)

(Dark brown stain obscures the date) 4th era

We finally reached The southern doors leading out to the foothills My family found an abandoned set of storage caverns near the doors that with my whole clan working on it didn’t take long to resculpt and finish into a rather impressive manor hall. I saw for the first time the southern Forests and they’re very, Green… The trees sprawl wider than I am used to and the forest is riddled with life. Being so close to the surface and with a neran settlement just on the other side of the door and a few hours by foot away i’ve found myself in the Neran markets on a regular basis observing in awe the various fabrics and textiles to be found their not to mention the paper in huge stacks and bound folio’s for writing ledgers in.

With the forges set up my father can start making trades with the locals and considering the local blacksmith’s unfortunate recent passing it is safe to assume that for awhile at least my younger siblings will have much to do fixing and replacing things for the locals. Good practice for them I had to hammer for ages doing nothing as I learned at least here they can make some profit for the clan and themselves with their practice. I’ve got a commission from a Neran Healer to make him a set of sharp blades for use in cutting away sickness, he needs them as sharp on the edge as river grass and delicate as as a leaf in the hand in order to do his job well and simply cannot find a Neran smith with the skill for the job.

(later in the Diary)

(Dark brown stain obscures the date) 4th era

I finished the blades for the Healer to day and brought them into town. There are some rumors that have me feeling concerned floating around about strange deaths to the south. Everyone seems to be on edge maybe it’s just the hot weather it is making everyone feel jumpy and moody. I had tea with my uncle Goeth today the old cracked steel has a thing about never drinking plain water always boils it and adds some leaves of some weeds common to the surface here in the foothills. Back home this hobby of his was rather expensive here people just think it’s funny when he walks about the forest pulling weeds from people’s gardens.

Do not get me wrong the man is a brilliant healer, if he sees to a leg crushed by a rock fall few fail to walk again after he’s finished with them. It’s just some of his habits are odd like pouring whiskey on his hands before seeing to someone, and always with the boiling of his knives in vinegar. That and the mountains of soap he wastes washing everything three times in strong lye soap. It’s all so mystical and weird to me but I guess it makes sense. I have never seen someone he’s treated come down with a case of the wound rot. He’s probably one of the best healers in the whole kingdom. He comes from a long line of healer folk, but apparently he and his parents disagree about him treating people who were not nobles. If you ever ask him he says he doesn’t like being some noble’s lapels when he can be a working man’s iron pick.

(Dark brown stain obscures the date) 4th era

The Sickness that is spreading the land is no longer a rumor and Lord Defender Gallen has sealed the doors. Everyone outside is to be left to their fate and my uncle is pouring himself into his books on illness saying that he remembers something similar to the illness’ rumored effects. If he finds something that can make a difference my clan is determined to force our way out past the guards to lend aid as the Virtues would demand. Our Friends and neighbors both Hrothi and Neran alike are being left out their to die and starve. We can hear the screams and eerie laugher from outside the doors despite their thickness. It is most disturbing people out there are suffering dying and all the lord cares about is his own hide, He must have fallen into the grasp of a Vice.

My uncle has started muttering on about water and fire and burning. Says he knows how to slow the plague and save people’s lives Some thing called Petroguin Sears is behind this. Apparently it spreads through water and is made worse by heat and dryness of the air. It can be killed outside the body with Strong spirits and Vinegars and can be cleaned from the body as long as fever and insanity doesn’t take the person first sedating the person and reducing their fever with common herbs while preventing infectious spread can end the plague. My family has been working quickly and quietly preparing hard shelled wagons and weapons to use in battling our way out the door. (Dark brown stain obscures the date) 4th era

To day we march on the doors last night the lord bolstered the men at the door and the pleading from outside has turned to weeping. We know what this means and may the virtues honor our sacrifice but we are now outnumbered by the lords’ troops and the other denizens of the Halls will not aid us in this. We must get my uncle and his expertise to the people outside. He knows how to save those people and the lord refused to open the door when we ask, preferring as he put it “to let the overlanders die in favor of insuring our survival.” Many of us will fall in the attempt. We have waited until the guards are at their thinnest many of them are well drunken or sleeping and this should make things easier. We have our wagons and gear for sleeping outside and treating the sick all packed and ready in hard covered wagons similar in design to little Neran houses on wheels. Uncle and the children are in the middle wagons. If I don’t survive this day Tell Luana I loved her, if she still lives out their in the hell the sickness has wrought.

A piece written by an unknown bard during the time of the searing plague the melody has long been lost.

The Song of Door’s Fall

When fire swept the blood of all,

When men fell into graves and with the road their blood paved

When coward the lord small inside his petty halls

A group pure and brave did stand tall and before them the doors did fall

Savior's to mann at a bloody cost

Through battle and plague their lives were lost

Till 40 of 200 where all that remained Of the brave savors our land did save

where they wander now lost, we shall remember the cost

They paid so we may live

Their all they did give

Remember the blood remember the cost

Lives given and lives lost

They wander on, to yet save more endless their gruesome chore We honor them who saved us

In Order to bring down that door

they gave their lives and so much more.

(Dark brown Stain obscures the date) 4th era

I Brund Whitebloom have decided to to take up my brother’s diary to complete the story he started. My brother sacrificed himself in the the battle of door’s open Along with thirty other Clans men and women. The Shields of Clan Whitebloom have this day won but at great cost we have lost our home and we may yet still lose our lives to the sickness that spreads in the lands south of the mountains. Upon leaving through the forced open gates we found an encampment of neran’s from the nearby town sickly with fever many weak and thirsty licking at the spring dampened rocks near the door, one of the few places of moisture outside of the town well left for some miles in the wake of this abnormally hot and dry summer. We immediately set about under Geoth’s orders tending to the wounded and treating the sick. It was a steep curve to learn in the heat of the moment but with dedication We’ve turned ourselves into a skilled band of healers 42 strong. We managed to help the town recover enough to care for itself and not starve in the coming wither and frost. We now set out for the next town a pattern I think we will be repeating for quite some time.

Thus Ends the Accounting of The Battle for The Door

Diaries of elder Zizira Zamphox, part III

The ship is finally beached. Be this thing cursed a thousand times. As we drifted closer to the land, I was thanking the gods that the current didn't take us deeper into the ocean instead, and thinking, we were no longer in Tryggr waters, this was probably northern Al-Khezam. The terrain fits to descriptions I heard. Everything is green. Never in my live have I seen so much grass. The smell is different too, so.. refreshing?.. Revitalizing even. My new crew mates, Dras mostly, seemed to know where they needed to go. Even though we did not really bond during out pleasant voyage, they did not protest as I followed them. We reached a road sign, Dras went south, where the arm of the sign saying "Draigh’s Haven" pointed, the capital. I looked over the rest, one name stood out. I guess it's fate.

As I entered Khersoness I could not help but think of my sister. How has she been, I wonder? Will she recognize me if she saw me? Will I recognize her? Its been 8 years since we last met. But I should not bother her, I know she does not need me. I'll just get some rest, provisions, and just go somewhere else. Nirath maybe? I should be able to get there before winter comes. Visit my peoples home lands. That should be interesting. But... I want to look at her, just this one time. Look her in the eyes. See if she is happy.

The time for the Festival of Passage has come. The town is home to many Faedin, surprisingly. The celebrations are not as long as they are in their homelands, of course. Taking just one evening as opposed to spanning several months. But everyone is welcome to join the main ceremony, held at the center of the town, and funded by the mayor. Mayor Zitala that is. Her husband died 3 years ago, so I heard. People say he was mauled by a wolf, when he and my sister were on a picnic in the forest behind their villa. They said she stumbled back into the settlement covered in blood, scared half to death. Poor woman. Feels like our family is cursed.

I have not been to a festival like that yet. It was... an experience? Have you ever seen a 2 meter (6.5 ft) tall Janoa jump from one leg to another playing some sort of weird flute? Or have a Kypiq jump out from under the table wearing an otterbear mask? Looking like an actual demon in the candle light. But people were smiling, I almost forgot how smiles look. This town is a good place, a happy one. I do not belong here. This was a mistake. I should leave. I'm sure Zitala is fine. The decorated door, big and covered in intricate carvings, suddenly opened.

Zitala walked out of the door. I recognized her in an instant. She was wearing a completely white, long dress, matching her pale skin. Her figure, so slim. And how did she manage to stay so short? I'm a head taller then her by the looks of it, and shes the older one. She looks exactly like I remember her, when we were little. She have not changed a single bit. Except the expression of her face. Its this look again, the look I remember from the orphanage. But it changed, what looked like pity then now looks like disdain. As she glances over the people in the crowd. Her eyes creep closer to where I stand, I clench my teeth and fists for some reason. Her gaze meets mine and she lingers.

There is no reaction from her. Not even the slightest change of expression. A tear tries to escape my eye. It all makes sense now. She died... she died with them, or not too soon after... I am the last one. She sees that I understood, and smiles. I start to shake. Her canines, abnormally long, even for a To'Resk. Her eyes, have red glint, how did I not notice? She raises her glass while looking at me. The crowd cheers and the cups start ringing. I stumble and fall while trying to turn back and run. I bruised my knee. Badly.

I turn the corner, following the path leading to a dark alleyway. I stop, clinging to the wall, trying not to collapse. My vision is dizzy, why is it is so hard to breath? A can not stand. I sit down, hugging my knees with my arms. The shaking does not stop. A kypiq child, holding a bouquet of flowers and wearing a mask of canis rabbit, runs across the entrance to an alleyway, he stops, and looks at me, waving his little arm. He is so small, less then half a meter tall (20 inches). I wave back. A taller kypiq runs to him and leads him away by the hand, not even noticing me.

Those stories of people missing in this town. She is doing this. Doing what he did to us. I cant run. They don't know. They need help, need me... I won't let it happen again. She knows I am here now, I think as I fumble a knife handle in my pocket.

Go to part I

this was a lot of fun to make, hope no one minds it being a bit grim, I guess those dark fantasy books I read are leaving their mark. And again sorry for it being this long, I got carried away a bit. And thank you Labbe you are honestly amazing.

also the Nirath stuff was written before their king left, Ill rewrite it after DSS is proper out and things are more clear (fixed now)

Loving the entries so far! Still want to see more though! Prize isnt won yet dangit!

Questions have come up a bunch so Ill reitterate here, yes you have to submit your lore here in the forum page. The contest is to help bide the time until maps drop and give back to the community what SbS was kind enough to share in store credit.

Also length of post or accuracy dont matter. Short entries count, long entries count, fictitious characters count (and spelling isnt a grading criteria)! I want to read them all :D

Morbidar sits with his back to the wall, observing all the happenings in the tavern while awaiting his appointment to show. Some loud mouths start making noise at the bar, pushing and shoving, causing a raucous and fisticuffs start flying. Morbidar strokes Astrix, his leffit. As things seem to simmer down, the tavern door opens. Morbidar squints as the light pierces his eyes. The blurry figure approaches the table and says "Wroxlynger, I presume?" "Indeed" I respond , thinking this is the scribe. "So, my legacy huh? Not too much to explain, by the way do you need a drink? Morbidar motions for the barkeep. "I come from humble roots of alchemists,jewelry makers and merchants. One profession feeds another, maintaining family stability. Its been this way for generations. Businesses inherited, skills passed down from grandparents to grandchildren. I inherited my grandpas wagon as he was a merchant, but I have bigger dreams. I shall sculpt the most beautiful statues in the swamp." Morbidar's violet eyes gleam as if glazed over in a grandioso episode "My legacy,pauses , is to broaden my family's horizons as well as serve the Two-Fold Queen." With the interview over, Wiggler the scribe, packed up and passed a few coins. " Thank you for your story, it shall go into the Chronicles." Wiggler finishes his drink and departs.

Preface

So obviously I cannot win my own contest, and obviously if you know me you know I'm going to be Dras so this isn't my personal lore. But I wanted to participate too :D

Tess

"Tess... Wake up Tess. Come on now, I know it's a bit hot out here but you have to eat something to stay strong."

mmmnh "Big sis... good morning."

"Good morning baby girl. Now be good and finish what's left of this bread and water. Help should be here by nightfall to take us back home."

"What will you drink Big sis? You keep giving Tess all the water, Big sis must be thirsty too."

"No baby girl, your big sister is alright. When Uncle gets here with help I'm sure they will have barrels of water and we can drink as much as we want! For now, you need to keep up your strength."

gulp... gulp "I finished it Big sis... Can Tess go back to sleep now?"

"Of course. Just sleep here in the shade of the wagon with me and help will be here before you wake."

"Tess.... you awake?"

zzz

"I'm sorry baby girl, your Sis told a little lie. Remember what your Mother taught you Tess? If there isn't food for 2, feed 1, that we might survive the harsh Desert. Big Sis Isn't gonna make it through the day Tess, but Uncle assures me you are going to make it home safe. When your.... no... Our Mother and Father took me in, I promised to protect you always... Now it's Uncles turn... You have to live baby girl..."

zzz

Old Tess, as the orphans called her, woke from her dream of days past with a tear in her eye. The sun cut through her window as always, and as always a kid was crying in her doorway. Not the same kid every time, but every time a kid, as the orphanage was a lively place.

sniffle "Old Tess, Mana took the tatos that brother Luke made for me and said they were hers and" sniffle "now I'm gonna go hungry cause Mana says brother Luke only" sniffle "only makes more tatos for family and Mana says we aren't" sniffle "real family cause we are orphans."

"Ohoho, baby girl. Is Mana being mean to you this morning?"

"Mhmm." sniff

"Well let me tell you a secret, come closer... Your big brother Luke will make you some more tatos to eat."

"But Mana says he only makes seconds for family!"

"That's the secret baby girl. We are Waerd, and all Waerd are your family. Now come, lets go ask brother Luke to make some for me as well, for the garden yet has food, and the well has water aplenty."

Watchers of Asiduuryn

Marcus had heard what the experts thought of plans “No plan survives the first contact with the enemy.” That wasn’t what he was taught though “Know your enemy, learn their ways, their routines and plan for everything” is what his mentors told him throughout his training. But he believed that both adages were true, “know your enemy and plan to their weaknesses, but expect your plan to fail.”

It had saved him well in the past, his unit had not been defeated since he took over, never had he come across an enemy he couldn’t out think, or his men out fight. So here they were, this dull forest, the sun barely touching the forest floor, half light shadows cast all around. He this dark surround he could barely make out the shadows of his men, if he hadn’t known where they were he probably wouldn’t have seen them. Nine shadows spread out ready and waiting.

Casting his eyes around he saw the first of them, two Kypiq scouts, well versed in their own forest and fine scouts in other wooded areas, their dark vision giving them advantages that others wouldn’t have. But this wasn’t any forest, this was his forest, his land to defend for the greater good. Behind the Kypiq came the others, Brudvir, Hrothi and other Neran. He could count at least fifty, so they had the numbers, but he wasn’t worried, never had they lost, and they wouldn’t today either.

Carefully he picks up his bow, slowly targeting the Kypiq on the left, the had an advantage that he needed to eliminate. Quick as a flash he fires his first arrow, and whilst its in the air he nocks a second, quickly targeting the other Kypiq he shoots. The first is taken from his feet by the force of the arrow hitting, but Marcus doesn’t see that, he turns his attention to the main force and starts raining arrows on them, his men now start firing, the first kill was the signal to unleash hell on the interlopers. Arrows rain on the invaders from all directions, quickly half their number is down and they form up into a defensive circle, catching arrows on shields but still visibly shaken.

Just then Marcus hears a noise above him, looking up into the canopy he sees them, Janoan mercenaries “look to the trees” he shouts, rolling backwards as the Janoan crashes down, losing his bow in the process. The Janoan advances, spear ready, a smile forming on his face, he knows his prey is vulnerable, the smile promises Marcus death, his first thrust is just avoided, Marcus knows he won’t be as lucky a second time…

Just then an axe flies out of the shadows, striking the Janoan in the chest, out runs Keatik his friend and second in command. A second axe in his hand, Keatik wrenches the first from the dying mercenary and charges into the fray, he throws one axe again, striking another Janoan in the back, his second axe flies hitting a charging Hrothi in the face. Keatik draws his short swords and darts in and out of the melee. Other Watchers are also charging out of the shadows, aiding their comrades, Marcus carefully picks up his bow and continues to rain death, remember Always plan to fail, Asiduuryn favours the diligent.