The World of Layonara
The Layonara Community => General Discussion => Topic started by: EdTheKet on December 03, 2006, 12:14:30 PM
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As you may know, the writer team and myself are typing away on the next installment of the Handbook.
To prepare you a bit, and make your mouth water with all the lore and information goodness that will be coming your way, I will now post some teaser texts every couple of days.
We are expanding/updating all deities, and here's a piece from the Church of Grand (written by Honora). Enjoy the read!
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Grand’s church has started to solidify in the third generation of the world. For decades the worship of Grand existed with the ancestor worship of the orcs, neither supplanting the other and often in conflict.
Around 1390 however, the son of a powerful clan leader named Jukha Marrowcruncher saw an opportunity to make changes. His tribe, several thousand strong living in and around the base of the Berhagen mountains, was in conflict over religious issues. Those that followed Grand insisted only Grand was worthy of worship. However, most of the tribe still worshipped their strongest ancestors.
Jukha seized power with a stroke of brilliance. Smarter than most of his kind by half, he had learned a fair bit of shamanism while still a pug from his grandfather; his grandfather also set him on the path to worship Grand. He practiced the art of enchanting with the spells his god gave him and continued his shaman path to adulthood.
On a hot day in the middle of Girding, he carefully placed a great number of powerfully enchanted simple items on and around a platform. He then called the tribe to a meeting in his father’s name. Using the enchanted items in a spectacular display of fireworks, halos of light and bloody death for both the two loudest ancestor worshippers and the single most insistent Grand follower, he manufactured an “epiphany” regarding Grand.
Neither side was right, he said; instead, both were. Grand wished for the clans to worship their ancestors, for the ancestors who were the strongest and took the most enemies (and the most dwarven lives) were blessed of Grand and by venerating them they paid homage to their god.
Later that same evening, the remaining leaders of the ancestor worshippers and three more of the Grand followers who had cried foul disappeared. In one blood-filled day he began to knit the two sides.
Grand was impressed by the cleverness of this upstart and did not smite him for his creativity. Thus the modern Church of Grand was born.
Jukha cemented his position by defeating a powerful priest of Dorand and severing his head with an axe he had made and enchanted. With the head presented to the tribe as proof of Grand’s power, he seized control of the fledgling Church. Grand looked upon his ambitious shaman with favor, and Jukha has been in control of the official Church ever since. He has lain down some edicts, renamed himself Nro Trhahphako (The Dwarfbane) in honor of his god, sent out war parties to “convert” other tribes, and gathered power to protect himself from the younger shaman who would remove him.
Several years after Blood’s demise, he has “converted” many of Mistone’s orc tribes, and now looks to Dregar with hungry eyes.
First Edict: “Kogoh gha' kharo u tuk-baho trhah granr kut uh Khhakt gbahhg 'uh kng uknu zuht ohahnr.” (Never say name of dog-pile dwarf smith god or Grand spills your guts onto cold earth).
Second Edict: “Gnakgakk zhhan-rhanakk trhahgog tao uk haro!” (Stinking craft-mating dwarves die on axe; a more genteel translation would be “Suffer no follower of He-That-Is-Not-To-Be-Named to live, and death must be by axe” ).
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Oh my! More lore to digest......You and the writers team are my hero! I have honestly been waiting for more LORE and information. If this is just the tip of the ice berg this is great! Keep up the good work.
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the tip of the ice berg
It is :)
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Oh Believe him. It is.
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It just keeps getting better and better....I am really looking forward to it.
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As am I. Tell Honora that was very well written :D
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"Suffer not to let the dwarf live" mentality... I love it
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Honora is my new hero, spent an hour at work today reading all her CDTs. Do yourselves a favour if you want to be inspired and do the same!
PS. Actually Honora -WAS- my hero until I read her post about real-life alignment ... now i'm a little frightened ... *backs away, smiling politely and avoiding eye contact*
PPS. Can't wait for Version 3, Ed, your teasers are doing as intended!
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Allright, as things are received well :), here's a piece of Az'atta, written by LynnJuniper.
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Hierarchy
The hierarchy of Az’atta’s clergy is fairly straightforward. All of her clerics are considered equals with one another, with the exception of her two most favored clerics, who receive the title of Handmaiden. These two clerics are the leaders of her faith, and informally share power. One of the two typically supervises the temples and their faithful, while the other watches over and assists the traveling clerics.
Each temple’s resident clergy select the most qualified priest or priestess to make the day-to-day decisions at that individual temple, and they look to this cleric for guidance and direction.
Otherwise, while older and more experienced clergy are normally looked up to and well respected by younger priests and priestesses, there is no other formal rank structure.
At the head of Az’atta’s church, just as it was in the beginning, stand two of Az’atta’s most favored handmaidens. One of these handmaidens, the one that stands at Az’atta’s left is declared as The Maiden of the Sanctuary. The one at her right The Maiden of Meandering.
The current Maiden of Meandering is Xhyfa An’ Dalian, a Dark Elf, and the current Maiden of Sanctuary is Kaphie Dal’chosa, a half Elven woman.
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After the death and ascension of their Goddess, Shiyle Rilyn’tlar, and Irae’ica Xyra’lyl began to formally organize the church of Az’atta. They attempted to set up an extensive council of priests and clergy members, but in the end each of their four attempts at formal organization failed. The two handmaidens grew desperate, and old in age, in their final years even, something quite amazing happened. Two young Dark Elf followers awoke one night, claiming to have had an extraordinarily realistic dream.
It was as if they had lived the life of Shiyle and Irae’ica through their very own eyes. The clergy would have considered it a fluke if they had not all had similar dreams themselves. Each and every priest and priestess had had this dream, in which they watched the lives of the handmaidens, the dream ending with two young Dark Elf women, standing in the place of Shiyle and Irae’ica. This was declared a sign from above. Az’atta had stated how the church would be run; the same as ever, with two handmaidens overseeing the rest of the clergy.
This dream became known as The Dream of Ordinance, where two cleric women (usually but not always limited to those of Dark Elf descent) are called upon to act as Az’atta’s next handmaidens.
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Ever wanted to know why people speak Common? Here's its history, by merlin34baseball.
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The Common language was born with the first traders. Some time around 5000 B.C. (before cataclysm), shortly after many of their dragon masters had perished, the humanoid races began interacting more and trade soon followed. The Common language started as hand gestures, as simple as pointing out trade goods and counting with fingers to express value and prices. But even these simple gestures helped to intermingle the races.
The race wars during these early times contributed as well. Scouts and spies served to further the language as they passed information back and forth. Negotiations between leaders often involved bits and pieces of the Common tongue.
As trade expanded and became more common place, a set of common words began to develop between traders of different races. Frequently these words were combinations and bastardizations of several, some times even three or four tongues. As traders traveled these new common words traveled, spreading across lands, and races.
As trade markets grew, more and more individuals were exposed to the Common language. In the trade market stalls foreign traders interacted with the commoners spreading the language even more. The small child sent to the market to purchase things for their mother began to learn the Common phrases used by the merchants.
The words of the Common language are marked by certain languages holding sway over certain portions of Common. Ores and minerals frequently have a gnomish or dwarven sound to them. Words associated with forests, animals and magic have a great tie in with elvish. Weapons frequently have a tinge of the dialect that invented them and used them the most. The terms for food items frequently contained bits of the dialect from where the goods were harvested.
Religious words developed along the same lines. As people of faith traveled the lands looking for converts they spread the language of their gods and goddesses to others. Words revolving around a diety contain many words that are similar to the native language that the majority of their followers used. Other races picked up these words and phrases through the teachings of the clerics and monks of the land.
Bards also helped spread the Common language. Frequently traveling with missionaries or traders they picked up the Common language as well. Spreading its knowledge through their plays and poems in the taverns, markets and at religious sites.
The language was finally codified, written down, at the command of Raklin "The True" Diamionar around the year 500 A.C. (after cataclysm). As trade grew, and the world seemed to grow smaller, he realized the need to teach his subjects the Common language. Scribes spent better than ten years traveling and compiling the different words and fixing them into one uniform text. Raklin then had the scribes put to work publishing thousands of text books that were distributed to the temples, monasteries, commoners, and schools across the land.
The finalized language became the most spoken one in the world. Legal matters, warfare, romance, trials, and most business matters became spoken in the Common tongue, especially when conducted between peoples of different races.
The old languages still were spoken at home and in their natural lands, being treasured by their peoples, but when venturing forth, most learned the Common tongue before setting out. Some of the less linguistically skilled mastered only a few words, but they were the words they needed to survive.
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What can I say? My hat is off to the writers....an excellent job, all of you!
I have read, written, and edited quite a lot in my (quasi)career, and I speak with honesty when I say that these entries are as professional as any that I have seen:)
*wrinkles his nose*
I'm entitled to a little jealousy, I think:)
Great job, all.
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*applauds* oh what would Daniel say...I know.. "Good show!"
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Nice writings. How about something about dwarves now :p *thumbs up*
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First Edict: “Kogoh gha' kharo u tuk-baho trhah granr kut uh Khhakt gbahhg 'uh kng uknu zuht ohahnr.” (Never say name of dog-pile dwarf smith god or Grand spills your guts onto cold earth).
Second Edict: “Gnakgakk zhhan-rhanakk trhahgog tao uk haro!” (Stinking craft-mating dwarves die on axe; a more genteel translation would be “Suffer no follower of He-That-Is-Not-To-Be-Named to live, and death must be by axe” ).
Plenty of stuff about dwarves! :)
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Yes yes, but from another point of view, perhaps :)
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Here's a piece from the upcoming Shadon write-up, by Schmack
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It was long thought that when Shadon was a mortal being, he was a young, childish gnome lad, whose life was cut short for some reason or another, and for reasons only the gods know, he ascended to the heavens to take his place as a deity.
This was accepted by most, explaining reasonably most of Shadon’s more narrow-minded views, which tend to revolve around the needs of the individual, rather than the collective. It also explained to most why one of Shadon’ teachings is that life is fleeting, as they believed Shadon himself had lived a short life as a mortal, and so taught his followers to make the most of their time, lest it be cut short.
But this changed later on, between the years of 432 and 438, when a gnome by the name of Frorric Frigsdergen began traveling to towns and cities all over the more civilized continents of Layonara. Frorric claimed to be descended from Shadon himself, and that Shadon was not in fact a young gnome lad at all. His claim was that Shadon was actually a very elderly gnome as a mortal, nearly four hundred years old, far older than the average gnomes’ lifespan. Frorric thought that Shadon, as a mortal, had not been able to experience all he had wanted to, and when he had ascended to godhood decided to do his best to make sure others were able to experience that which he had not.
Frorric traveled over Layonara, telling people of his views on Shadon, and trying to convince them that his view better explained Shadon’s views and beliefs. Most scholars did not then, and many do not this day, believe his words at all, thinking him slightly mad. Followers of Shadon were skeptical at first also, but the majority eventually came to agree with him, most likely influenced by Frorric’s knack for acquiring alcoholic drinks, which he was all too happy to share with all.
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Here's an organization called the Sand Dancers, written by Lucius. Note: the requirements to join are draft.
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The Sand Dancers are a group of desert dwellers in the Great Desert. They live nomadic lives and protect the balance of nature wherever they are. Masters of desert camouflage and movement, the few enemies that see them coming have no time to run.
Nobody knows about the origin of the Dancers, but most believe them to descend from ancient nomads of the desert. Most of their people were killed by the dune giants, and in the following war, the nomads combined martial training with desert skills, becoming the very first Dancers. Their numbers have always been small, and recently they have been accepting new members and sending some of their own to the rest of Dregar, both to search for allies and slay any giants that cross their paths.
Most Dancers are desert rangers or rogues, but they also have some druids and barbarians in their ranks. All members are trained to fight and move in the desert, eventually becoming deadly when fighting on the shifting sands of the Great Desert. The Dancers prefer ambushing their enemies, hiding in the sands or tracking their prey through the dunes. Heat and lack of water mean little to a Dancer, and not even sandstorms drive them off from the hunt.
When engaged in combat, the Dancers show their deadly skills. Fighting with double scimitars or falchions, they dodge attacks and move in and out of combat, striking foes like a desert viper. The more experienced members create small storms of sand when they attack, with the speed of their blades and use the sand to blind their enemies. The druids and rangers bring their animal companions with them when ambushing, and they range from tiny poisonous vipers to large dire elephants.
Agents of the Dancers that leave the deserts keep their fighting styles, but tend to adapt their other skills to fit the place they travel to. Their movement and stealth skills gained in the desert help them pass undetected, and their endurance and ranger training makes survival much easier on all types of terrain.
The Dancers divide themselves based on skill and trials surpassed. The different ranks are Small Lizard, Desert Viper, Sand Cheetah, Dire Lion, Desert Wind, and Sandstorm.
The Small Lizards are the newcomers or recently trained Dancers. They rarely travel alone, and have a master of at least Sand Cheetah rank.
The Desert Viper rank is a step above the Lizards. The Vipers can travel alone, but most don’t do so yet. They also finished their basic training, so they don’t need a master anymore. The desert is their teacher now.
Sand Cheetahs are the bread-and-butter of the Dancers. Most members are in this rank, and they’re also confident enough for solo ambushes and travels.
Dire Lions are the elite members. The Dancers who reach this level are often sent to other areas to defeat giants or forge alliances/gather supplies.
The Desert Winds are the counselors of the Dancers. Some druids and the elder Dancers help guide the others and the Sandstorm, and keep the whole organization in balance.
Finally, the Sandstorm is the most skilled member and the leader of the Sand Dancers. He or she embodies all the qualities of the nomads and their link with the desert. The enemies strong enough to face the Sandstorm in combat rarely survive to tell the tale.
Imia Essend - The current Sandstorm is Imia Essend, who is known for her amazing skill with clawed bracers. With the exotic style of fighting and a powerful link with the desert itself, she rose through ranks very quickly, and was chosen the new Sandstorm by the Desert Winds when her predecessor died. Since then, she has adopted an aggressive stance in the fight against the giants, and defeated several leaders herself.
Notes: Joining will go through a Character Development Quest (CDQ), as will progression through the various ranks.
Requirements to join:
Class: Ranger, Rogue, Barbarian or Druid. This is mostly a Ranger organization though
Skills: 8 ranks in Hide and Move Silently
Feats:, Favored Enemy: Giants (for rangers), Two Weapon Fighting (all)
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The North Wind Bow and the Fletcher, as told by Katrien Hommel
A very, very long time ago, a White dragon walked this world; she was the last of the whites and the most ancient of all the dragons. She was known as Fraxhdilakizskar of the Frozen Heart, or more simply the Biting Wind.
Her home was to the north, what we call the Barbarian Islands. Deep within the islands some of you more adventurous types may have stumbled on what remains of her cavernous lair. With her great age came great power and majesty. She was a White, so we must not fool ourselves with romantic notions of a benevolent matriarch. She was a cold mistress and the kobolds and goblins that served her were empowered beyond what we, thankfully, could not hope to see in this world today. It was said that a wound from the Biting Wind’s kobold would never heal, but fester until the bearer was beyond all agony and succumbed to the gangrene.
At this time in the world’s history, an exit to the Underdark existed in the White’s kingdom. Strategy wise, it was a perfect location to sail to the protected continents of Layonara. And the Dark Elves wanted it. The cold and cover provided by its dark caverns was a perfect place for a dark and cold race.
At that time, the Dark Elves were united under the Council. Yes a united Dark Elf society…. So you can imagine the age of this tale. The Council mandated that the island and caverns be secured for Dark Elves use.
Legions of the darks best assassins, warriors and spell casters were dispatched to carry out the will of the Council.
Fraxhdilakizskar merely swatted this force like so many gnats in the high moors. A blast of her frosty breath turned the invaders in to statues as icy as the cold hearts within them.
Waves of troops were sent, but all suffered the same fate. After the creation of a hundred thousand icy snacks, the Council began to get irritated.
They charged the stewards that served them the task of getting rid of the dragon once and for all. The armies of the stewards were assembled, the most elite of the Dark Elves forces marched once more to the ice caverns of the Island.
The battle raged with terrible ferocity. So terrible in fact it shaped the Islands as they are today. In the day of the White, it was but one island. The hellballs released in that battle shattered the land in three. The dark scars and craters are still evident in the landscape if you know where to look.
When the stream of fire meeting ice cleared
The Chill of the North once again reigned supremely over her land, the Dark forces utterly decimated by her might.
As one could imagine, the Council was not pleased. They decided to take matters into their own hands.
Deep within the expanse of the Underdark stands Wa’q’d’ Nizzre… the tower of lightning and the home of the Fletcher
The Fletcher… a cold , dark beauty. Perfection of form. It is said that the she was the first to arrive and the last to leave when ever the council roamed. She is the keenest of them all, the purest in her dark heritage.
The Fletcher rose from her sanctum. With a malevolent air, she traveled north. The dark passages thundered at her passing. Eventually she made it to those northern islands of cold.
When she arrived… her dark aura was immediately felt by the white beast. The winged winds of the north, truly unmatched by any power thus far lashed out at the malicious presence. With great ferocity it attacked, but the lithe reflexes of the dark beauty avoided and contorted around every single one of the Great Wyrm’s attempts at her destruction. Nothing could be seen or heard of her wisping movements, dark shadows surrounded the beast and it roared in its frustration.
Finally as the lady finished toying with the great power of the north, the lightening answered her call. A single arrow, empowered by the gift of the ages, the gift of dark halls. One single arrow enraptured in magic and hate. It flew menacingly from her bow. Ripping through the hardened scales and thick hide… It stuck Fraxhdilakizskar in the heart and exploded.
Nothing was heard after that in the great white wasteland; except the cold laughter of the Fletcher. She stripped the scales of the beast and interwove and contorted them with the yew and mithril of her bow.
Thus the North Wind Bow was formed… A creation of beauty and pain… carried by a beautiful and equally painful lady.
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We have some very talented writers on the team, that's for sure. :)
It all sounds awesome!
~KK
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Presenting.... pieces from the Prantz write-up. Thanks to darkwulf"Broegar"365 :)
The towering grey spires of Prantz reach ever upward toward the ashen sky. Those approaching the city cannot help but be awed by the size of the one time capital of the world. Banners fastened to the wall wave and snap in the breeze, no longer carrying the horsehead livery of Dregar but a new design of unknown origin. Approaching the gates you pass a large collection of army tents sitting not too far from all sides of the city walls. Troops constantly drill and prepare for an unknown battle almost consantly, the sounds of their cadences bouncing off the walls. The sprawl of this host so wide it becomes almost a city encircling the city in it’s own right. During the night, their campfires twinkle in the night sky, illuminating it with a sooty orange glow against the ashen clouds that hide the stars.
Entering through the heavily banded gates, under the eyes of the watchful guardsmen, they open upon a city scene not typically found throughout the rest of the world.
The first sight your eyes catch is a large sign, written in common, titled ‘The Laws of Prantz’
Not long after, it is easily observed that the once proud temple of Toran is no longer standing. In it’s place a pit lies, the seats built around it’s perimiter and the slight amount of gore still staining it’s walls speaking volumes about it’s purpose.
Everything seems somewhat stifled as if by some unknown force. The noise and bustle one normally associates with such a large center of commerce and industry are not found. Although the ambiance is subdued, the citizens walk the streets without a care, while not overtly expressing their happiness, they walk with chins up, and backs straight, cloaked in the knowledge that they are living in complete security.
Every part of The city itself is meticulously clean, the buildings scrubbed to a dull sparkle. There is no trash tossed upon the streets, and the walls are graffiti free. No horses or oxen can be seen standing complacently in the streets, or tied up to the various buildings. Vendors transport their wares in carts they themselves haul. The only part of the city to not share this opulence lies in it’s southwestern quarter. While not a polluted waste, it does not seem to share the luster or meticulous attention to detail that the rest of the city possesses. It seems as if it is a byproduct, a large tract of land only attached to the city by it’s proximity to the walls. Known as the Haft Lake Housing District, it is the home of many who label themselves Dragoncalled, the so called heroes of Layonara.
A large statue of a heavily armored dwarf lies near the eastern gates, a monument to the ruler of this great metropolis. In the distance to the south can be seen the looming, ominous structure that is the castle of Broegar, lord of Prantz. Ever vigilant guards line it’s walls, standing stoically at attention.
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A bit of Prunilla, by Pankoki
“Because all fields are grown evenly, there is only a seed and a plant that grows...”
The church of the Lady of the Harvest is not structured in complicated pyramidal schemes where one person reports to a higher authority by filling complicated forms that only leads to more headaches than any halfling should ever bother with. No. Prunilla's faithful follow the halfling spirit to the core and as it has been ingrained for many ages, they will always say: “Life is simple, don't be tall about it”. This of course is simply their view about themselves, for in their simple view of life, many misunderstandings are reached that have been known to end in epic sized stories of the small sized creatures. In reality, there are only two layers to the church of Lady Comfort, the first being a Lucky Clover and the second that of a Sapling.
Saplings
Saplings of Prunilla are those followers that have discovered or taken upon the path of clergy. These young halflings are known for their very caring demeanor, a desire to perpetuate the halfling culture, and a gift for tending to fields and the harvest. Saplings normally learn all the “tools of the trade” from Clan Mothers or Lucky Clovers, often made to do all the menial work for these two in order to build that enduring character that most clerics of Prunilla have.
Most Saplings are given playful nicknames that are adopted into their birth names. These nicknames often portraying their personalities through fruits and labor of the harvest. Names like Cookie, Nutty, Cherry, or Spicy are normally heard flying around in the fields for Saplings to carry farming tools or collect batches of harvest baskets. Yet despite these hard years, Saplings often take this work with great joy, and behind every playful complaint of how they are being driven by slavers, there is a caring smile and warm dedication to clan and culture.
Eventually Saplings ripe into full fledged clerics, an event that is normally triggered either by their 30th birthday or the passing (or retirement) of their mentors. Whichever may come first, all Saplings embrace this growth in the way all halflings should; by celebrating. Thus in a long night of clan joys and merriment, the Sapling cooks their favorite meal and gives a little of it to everyone present, called the Night of the Bloom, it marks the beginning of a new phase in those who choose the warm path of Prunilla.
Lucky Clovers
The second and only other layer of Lady Comfort's church is that of the Lucky Clovers. The name is said to have originated from Deliar's gift to Prunilla when he was courting her. As the story goes the day Deliar proposed to Her, he was so nervous and jittery that in the moment he was presenting her with the ring, he stumbled and it dropped into a large clover patch. Not wanting to disappoint, he improvised a small ring from a wreath of the clovers and presented it as his band of union with Her. Prunilla never bothered replacing the ring, despite Deliar's constant showering of many presents, and it is said that the first priestess of Lady Harvest was poked on the nose with the ringed finger, granting her the gift for her devotion and a name for Her people.
Regardless of where the name came, Lucky Clovers never disappoint their namesake. If it is said that most halflings have Luck on their backs, many would argue that the Clovers are Luck themselves, for in their tender touch they seem to break all rules and bring to the world children that were never supposed to be born, or save people from the strangest of ailments. When asked they simply shrug and reply with their playful smirks saying, “I was Lucky”.
Lucky Clovers are respected in any halfling community they may be passing through, for many of them can easily claim that they brought the residents into this world or fed them when they were children. This motherly embrace is rarely forgotten and often grants them a place to stay wherever they roam, of course a meal prepared by a Lucky Clover is not easy to pass up, thus adding to the leverage. Older Lucky Clovers often take on an apprentice to share all the wisdom they have gained through their lives, and in the last years of it will make sure that a Sapling is at their side so that their last breath is captured and returned to the clans.
In general however, Lucky Clovers act as healers for their clans, midwives for those bearing child, tenders of the fields that many feed from and soul for the race that never seems to lose its mirthful spirit.
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Short piece from Vierdri'ira, written by me :)
Light’s Demise
These are Vierdri’ira’s warrior priestesses, who think the middle part of the dogma is the most important. Warrior priestesses of Light’s Demise are cunning tacticians, and care not about honorable warfare or rules of engagement. Ambushes, treachery, spying everything is allowed to bring about the Demise of the Light and the subjugation of the weak and the faithless. If a city’s War Mistress is also a cleric, she’s also a member of Light’s Demise, if she’s not she is still invited to any meetings.
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Oooo! Can't wait for it. Like the shadon one so far! :D
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The Allied Duchies of Morholt, by Reventage.
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After the Cataclysm the history of eastern Alindor is the history of families Virvatule, Mullein and Roste, and their fight over the dominion of Kartherian trade routes. When the races clashed with each other all around Layonara, these three Grand Duchies were more intent on slaughtering their neighbours to completely secure their control of the now vital harbour city. Even after the rest of the world lowered their arms and focused on licking their wounds, the flames of war still raged fierce between the Duchies.
Yet once the western parts of Alindor were well on their way on the road to recovery, they too realized the significance of the only large port city of the east coast and their eyes turned to the three Duchies and their ongoing feud. This new pressure forced the families to accept a simple truth; the years of fighting had depleted most of their resources and none of them alone was strong enough to stand against their western neighbours and that the only thought they disliked more than one of their competitors controlling Kartherian was the thought of some barbarians from the West doing it.
This revelation led to hasty peace talks and finally in the year 46 A.C. the Duchies of Virvatule, Mullein and Roste signed a treaty at Fort Morholt, declaring the birth of Allied Duchies of Morholt. The treaty stated that under the banner of Morholt the Duchies would act as a single body in their relations to other states and that during wartime their armies would be unified under a single leader chosen by the families to repel anything that would threaten any of the Duchies.
They also shared the control of the city of Kartherian amongst each other, splitting the tax revenues equally and requiring agreement between two of the families for any new legislation for the area.
This treaty allowed the families rule the eastern corner of Alindor uncontested for nearly nine hundred years. While the families still wrestled for absolute control in the shadows they were more or less evenly matched, and the alliances between any two of them being temporary at best, the situation stayed much the same. The trade from Kartherian was blossoming and the giants in the Mountains of Madness stayed mostly quiet.
During this time the clause on military action in the Morholt treaty was invoked four times.
This happened first in the year 142 A.C., when the elves of Wolfswood declared war on the Roste family after they had expanded their farmlands by burning away most of Wolfswood that had spread over the Rusty River. The state of war lasted for sixty-five years and no definite victory was gained.
The second time was when the Mullein family decided to force the dwarven clans residing in the Crystal Peak mountains to pay taxes. This notion was first objected by the two other families but after Mullein family negotiated to give them a portion of the future profits, war was declared on 7th of Junar, 235 A.C.
When the Morholt forces marched to the mountains they found all the dwarven mining villages empty. Knowing that their small communities could not stand alone against the overwhelming numbers of the human armies, all the dwarves had fallen back to the only dwarven halls in the region, the home of the Diamondback clan.
The family Mullein took this as a good sign and populated the old dwarven villages with their own people. Their attempt to mine the mountains, however, faced extreme difficulties as the dwarves had collapsed their mines and any attempts to reopen them were stunted by small troops of dwarven mountaineers.
The Morholt army continued to siege the Diamondback halls for five years with no noticeable results and the interest to the war started to wane. Then suddenly and without warning on the Apreal of the year 240 the Diamondback clan halls were attacked from below by an unknown force.
The Mullein family had been approached by a clan of Grey Dwarves with whom they had stroke a deal. In exchange for their help on the war effort and the promise to become loyal subjects to the family Mullein and the Morholt nation, the Grey Dwarf clan Sootscale was granted exclusive mining rights on the Crystal Peak mountains.
Caught between human and Grey Dwarf forces, the Diamondback clan home soon fell and the clan members were killed to the last man. Humans retreated from the mountains and the Sootscales established themselves in the Diamondback clan home.
After the dwarven wars the Virvatule family started to grow increasingly discontent. They felt that they had gained little to none from the wars fought yet still carried as much of the burden as the other families. This led to increased demands from the Virvatules towards the two other families that they should help Virvatule with some internal problems that, while not yet at the level requiring military action could possibly escalate to that in the future.
In the end families Mullein and Roste decided that it would be easier to simply give Virvatule some forces than risk the alliance, and yet another state of war was declared in 242 A.C and Rencent Virvatule was appointed as the Lord Commander of the United Armies of Morholt. This was the first time the military action clause of the Fort Morholt treaty was invoked without a clear enemy.
Immediately Rencent directed his new military might at the Two Toes troll clan that had controlled most of the Swamp of Sorrows from the days before Cataclysm. During the next two years Rencent proved to be an brilliant military leader. He was familiar with the region and its perils and quickly trained the troops coming from the southern regions to survive in the harsh environment. In just two years he had expanded the Virvatule family area of control from simply the coastal areas to the entire northern section of the swamp.
During the second year of the war the United Armies of Morholt took a most peculiar prisoner of war. Cold blooded and clearly a member of the lizard kin, it towered taller than most grown men, its yellow scales reflecting none of the sunlight filtering trough the swamp air. Most normal men would have put the strange creature to the sword, but Rencent had trained his men well and it was brought before him for interrogation. Much of the details of this meeting has been lost to history, but in the end, for the first time during the Two Toe War, Rencent left the fields of battle taking his captive with him and spent over a month negotiating with his family to a great discontent of the other families.
When Rencent returned to his men the prisoner returned with him but this time as a trusted advisor, a change which Rencent refused to explain to those who would question him. With his return the war escalated into a never before seen fury. Every move he made was that of brilliance, perfectly building upon his old actions to a crescendo of destruction. If it was said before that Rencent was a great military tactician, then now his reputation soared to such heights that he is to today the most revered commander ever to lead the Morholt army.
The ending of War of Sorrows in 246 marked a seven hundred year period of peace to the region, only broken by the occasional scuffle with either the giants from the Mountains of Madness or the few remaining Two Toe trolls in the Swamps of Sorrows. Trade flourished, especially after the Diamoniar line was established on the continent of Dregar and Morholt's relations to their neighbours were mostly peaceful. Some observers have even commented that during this time it actually appeared as if the families were content to what they had.
Then, in the year 924 A.C. disturbing rumours of giant activity started to echo from the Mountains of Madness. It took two years to ascertain the fact that someone had in fact taken control of the region and unified the giant clans there under a single rule. This confirmation was quickly followed by an emergency meeting between the duchies in third day of Oclar 926 A.C. which ended up in appointing the head of the Virvatule family, Rencent the Sixth, as the Lord Commander of United Armies of Morholt with the intent on building enough forces over the winter to cleanse the Mountains of Madness of this potential threat.
The resolution proved to be short lived as four weeks later it was revoked and all three families published a joint declaration stating that the power building at the mountains was of no threat to the Allied Duchies. The declaration also announced a week long period of mourning due to the recent passing of the Duke of Virvatule, Rencent Virvatule the Sixth, whom had died to a food poisoning two weeks prior. Just some years later the continent of Alindor was officially renamed as Rilara.
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I keep hearing about this Cataclysm. What's that?
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A disaster of epic proportions that ripped the world apart and reshaped the lands.
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A myth on Ilsare and Corath, if it happened is anyone's guess of course, written by Meizter.
Once there was a man and woman so in love that few knew of anyone more devoted to one another. But one day the woman fell ill, and within the week she had passed away from the disease which had come so abruptly. The man was stricken with grief and would not leave her body. Not even when she was taken to her grave and lowered he would leave her side, and he stayed there as they covered the coffin with earth.
His tears ran down his cheek as he laid himself upon her grave, giving no thought to people who watched him, and heeding none of their words of comfort. For a week he stayed at her grave, praying and praying to Ilsare that she bring his love back to him. People brought him food and water but he did barely touch it, nor did he sleep except when he passed out from fatigue. Still as soon as he woke he would begin to pray again, pleading for help, but none came.
Then on the night of the seventh day he again passed out from exhaustion, and his body, now looking more dead than alive fell to the ground. As he lay there unconscious he saw Ilsare before him. She told him she would not bring his love back, instead he should think of what they had had, and not what he had lost. She commended him for his devotion and told that she would help ease his suffering and that in time all would be better. The Soul Mother had claimed his wife and there was nothing Ilsare could do about that she said.
The man screamed that Ilsare was a cold and heartless deity, that if she valued love she would bring his love back to him. Ilsare shook her head sadly and again explained that she could not bring her back, only help ease his pain, and then faded into darkness.
At that moment he awoke, his limbs feeling numb. A man clad in black robes stood above him, robes so black that he seemed like an empty spot as the man saw him against the night sky. “She is a betrayer” he whispered, his voice so low that it seemed little more than the whisper of the wind “She will not help you”. The man sobbed as he lay on the ground and did not reply. The stranger spoke again and said that he would help him, he could bring the man’s wife back to him.
The man looked up and said that he would pay anything to have his love back. It was almost as if a chuckle could be heard in the quiet night, but then again it was so low it could have been imagination.
The stranger told the man that he would bring the woman back if he would turn from Ilsare and devout his soul to the stranger. Without hesitation the man agreed and the stranger told him to move aside.
As he did so, the robed man raised his hand, whispering dark words of power, and as he did the earth parted and the coffin was raised from the ground by some invisible force. As the coffin stood there on the ground the lid burst away and the woman rose from it.
As the stranger faded into the darkness a whisper reached the man’s ear “Lord Corath provides” then all fell silent. With lifeless eyes, skin deathly pale and her body still ravaged by the disease, she turned to her husband and whispered in a cracking voice “My love”
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Oooh... Lovely!
The dark side is way stronger than the light one. ;)
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*hearts the dark side*
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Due to the sheer size of it, we've decided to cut the handbook into at least two pieces.
The first that will be released will be the Layonaran Pantheon, It didn't make before Christmas, but trust me, you're going to love it.
So, to ease the waiting, here's a blurb of Aeridinness.
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The Lifegiver Leaf
Known mostly by reputation by all healers and potion makers across the lands, the Lifegiver Leaf is the symbol of Aeridin.
Whether Aeridin’s alias of The Lifegiver was transposed onto this small plant, or if the name of the plant also became similar to Aeridin’s is not clear, what is clear however, is that it is the most potent herb of healing known to exist on Layonara.
It is rumored to be able to cure any natural illness as well as a key component in returning transformed, altered or corrupted entities to their normal forms.
Research into old alchemical texts indicates that it is at its most potent if it is harvested at noon, when the sun is high in the sky, and then worked into whatever potion or elixir it is needed for in the light of a full moon, whether this is true or just adding useless Aeridin related rituals to a simple alchemical preparation is not clear from my research.
Unfortunately, I have not been able to find any records of the Lifegiver Leaf being seen, let alone being used, in recent generations, so my guess is that whoever finds one and intends to use it will follow the lore, or folklore, of the harvest at noon, and preparation at night.
- Section L, entry 67 of “On the Use of Herbs and Weeds in Alchemic Applications”, Martin Numman, alchemist
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Nay, evil always wilst turn upon itself. Whenst victorious, evil destroys the very objects of its domination. As Corath provided in the tale, naught but the man's desire, but in its darkest form and substance.
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Yup. That's Corath the way I like him *giggles* None of that over the top LOOK AT ME EEEEEEEEEEEEEVIL foolishness. Great Myth!
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Say, will we be seeing more info on the Plane of the Lost in the new handbook?
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No :)
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:( Will we ever see more info? *Puppy dog eyes.*
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Nope :)
Nobody ever returned to make a description.
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Hrm... *Plots maniacally.*
Don't suppose that if I had a character go there, though, I'd find out? ;)
Really looking forward to the new handbook; looks like it'll be great! (Though I may've said that before. It's worth repeating.)
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Been a while....
E Sgiathatch Corm by stormspirit
Often called the commoners shrine, yet more accurately translated as The Dragons Heart, this small yet poignant work to Ilsare is found nearby the main road of the town of Hlint. Containing little more than a small pagoda, a statue to Ilsare and some tiny gardens that contain delightfully scented plants, the warmth and devotion echoing from within still make it clearly a holy place of The Gentle binder.
Its name has true meaning in both contexts however as it is the most accessible of Ilsarian shrines for the common folk of Mistone and the clergy attending the shrine are well versed in dealing with the woes and requests of the more usual of folk of both fields and farm.
With that said however, Hlint was always a gathering point for those touched and called by the Gold Dragon, perhaps now a memory of times past, but still recent and alive. Due to this E Sgiathatch Corm has a long and rather colorful history of dealing with the strange, right down to the somewhat insane. Each time the few clergy have offered support, healing and care to the township and have never been found wanting.
Leading the shrine is Amenithruila, a gentle elf who has been stationed in Hlint for as long as any can remember. With nut brown hair and a wit that is as sharp as her nature is caring, her easy and outgoing disposition has earned her many friends among adventurers, the common folk and influential Hlintites alike. Indeed it is even noted that the Captain of Hlint's Guard has winked at her on many occasions...the Ilsarian just pointedly looking the other way....
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This has been deleted.
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Broegar King: Have it my way. Or else.
:rolleyes:
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Great stuff! I think I may have said this before in the past, but meh. I can't wait to read though the PHB once it's finished. Read Ed's latest post makes me wish I had the time to login and play. :(
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Mariner's Hold, main port of the kingdom of Sagewald, by Lucius.
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Name: Mariner’s Hold
Location: Northwestern Sagewald, on the coast
Terrain: Plains. The city is slightly over sea level.
Population: 58700 (72% Human, 18% Halfling, 5% Elf, 3% Dwarf, 2% Gnome,)
Alignment: TN
GP Limit: 75000
History and Rumors: Mariner’s Hold has evolved from a small halfling fishing village to a major port town of Alindor. From Halin’s commerce deals to the speeches of King William, the town has seen merchants from virtually all lands, endured pirate and giant raids, saw Milara rise and disappear. Lately, farmers from the interior have flocked to the coastline, after losing crops and even whole villages to the sunless skies. This influx of people made Mariner’s Hold grow uncontrollably, leaving many of the new citizens homeless.
The town is also famous for its large Halfling community, scattered through town from trading companies to even circuses. Before the sunless skies came, large parties happened in the summer, bringing up to a thousand Halflings and much more humans together for games and wine.
The port city is often divided into four large areas by the inhabitants: the port itself, with new ships anchoring everyday; the residential area, where the bulk of houses is located; the commerce area, with the trading company headquarters, bank, and other stores; and the castle, where most nobles and the royal family reside.
Government/Politics: Mariner’s Hold is governed directly by the king, though there are special officers to deal with smaller issues on each area.
Defenses: Mariner’s Hold is protected by strong stone walls that circle the land part, and protect a large part of the sea as well. Towers stand over the walls, manned by archers and a few siege engines. The army has several warships stationed in the port or in nearby towns, so invading by sea is often worse than by earth. A group of mercenary mages has a tower inside the city, and the government employs them when the situation calls for magical support.
Notable People:
Disol Rodk – Officer of the port area, Disol is a black-haired middle-aged man that holds power over many of the port authorities. His influence expands even outside of the city, since many towns need the supplies that pass through his port. He’s a confident and slightly arrogant man, and requires flawless work from his subordinates.
Denock Wisefoot – Current owner of the Wisefoot Trading company, one of the largest of Sagewald. This young Halfling tries his best to be like his ancestor Halin, but the pressure is sometimes too great on him. However, even with his somewhat weak leadership, the Wisefoot Company continues to grow.
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Due to the opening of the Citadel of Toran earlier this week, here's Huangjin by Honora:
http://forums.layonara.com/cities-towns-fortresses-dungeons/130032-tilmar-huangjin.html#post581342