Upcoming New Handbook - Teasers

[EdTheKet]

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” ).
 

[Tanman]

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.

[EdTheKet]

the tip of the ice berg

It is

[LynnJuniper]

Oh Believe him. It is.

[Tanman]

It just keeps getting better and better....I am really looking forward to it.

[ItalianDDog]

As am I. Tell Honora that was very well written

[lunchboxkilla]

"Suffer not to let the dwarf live" mentality... I love it

[Pseudonym]

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!

[EdTheKet]

  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.
   

...........
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.

[EdTheKet]

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.

[Creighton]

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.

[cbnicholson]

*applauds* oh what would Daniel say...I know.. "Good show!"

[s0ulz]

Nice writings. How about something about dwarves now :p *thumbs up*

[blonde]

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!

[s0ulz]

Yes yes, but from another point of view, perhaps

[EdTheKet]

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.

[EdTheKet]

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)

[EdTheKet]

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.

[KageKeeper]

We have some very talented writers on the team, that's for sure.

It all sounds awesome!

~KK

[EdTheKet]

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.