Worldbuilding Lore anthology
Gods of the Old Wilds
A collection of myths and legends about the gods and supernatural forces of the Old Wilds, a dark fantasy setting.
The River Damae
The River Damae was once a compassionate and gentle god of The Wilds, threading from the Mountains That Growl throughout the Weeping Basin to provide life and sustenance aplenty. But within the gasp of the primordial eras a cunning man named Cigwed conspired to use the consecration of her waters as a component in his pursuit of immortality, draining her essence from her glass by glass, year after year, ensuring it was bound to his body through profane rituals learned from the north.At the brink of death, she was left as little more than a lifeless liquid, but when concentrated in great bodies, such as when bled into the sky or seas, her wrath was free to manifest, plaguing the lands with a battering of terrible storms and floods. Too, the river was polluted with her misery, sure to invite sickness into the bodies that drank from it.The residents of the city of Indad discovered the truth of their founder’s sin, none spared from the mark of his inheritance, and determined to make their penance through the sacrifice of their own, an act which allowed The River Damae to finally find peace.A sacred place at the local headwater was made for the bodies of the victims. Though many are distraught at their fate, they are said to be granted peace after death through their union with The River Damae, reborn as peculiar ferns that dot the river valley. Spotted with a deep red like a splattering of blood, these ferns are said to sprout spontaneously during funerals, a sign from The River of their shared mourning.As the river reaches far and wide their sacrifice benefits many and the charge is taken with dire severity, as one life given can mean life for thousands of others.
The Pale Animals
Of the more prominent gods of the Old Wilds, there are the Pale Animals. There are many, as many as there are animals of flesh, with only a few whose names are known. They are scattered throughout the world and often unwilling to tread into mortal domains. What is said of them at large is that an encounter with one will allow one to know thyself truly, given clarity of vision into the soul.Of the ones familiar to mortals, it is known that the Young Lamb was buried and transformed into mud and grass where now the Great Woods of Haedde grow. Seeds of those trees are known for their healing power and are widely sought. But they were a miracle not meant for mortals, and their trade can sometimes be treacherous.The Rat lived for a time with mortals. A certain race of men take after them, exhibiting rat-like characteristics. They are known to reject and hunt evil, being pure of heart enough to trudge through filth without fear of corruption. Their progeny watch the stars for movements of their enemies, knowing the stars sometimes collude with mortals. They are known sometimes to topple Kings and Despots, driven purely by their will to justice.The Magnificent is said to be a Pale Animal, though his species cannot otherwise be found in nature. He is a mindless thing, who reaps souls and maintains the harvest, employing the dead to help him in his duties if only to give them purpose. His power is said to be without equal, yet he has little will of his own. Misfortune and plague are known to happen when he forgets himself entirely and his neglect of his duties allows the domain of death to slip into the living world.The Horse and The Red Squirrel were known to incite turmoil and chaos. It was through their acts that the Forest Of The Fire was birthed, a landscape of spiraling trees of fire and a divinity in its own right. Though The Fire was later tamed, such an act begged for retribution and The Horse and Red Squirrel were turned to stone as punishment. Yet, it did not diminish their powers, only their freedom of movement. Be wary of strange statues, for they are always watching, eager to will any onlooker to their darkest fears and passions.The Endless Blackbird professed a strange curiosity in the lives of men, for it had grown bored with its limitless vision and longed for the simplicity that ignorance provided. From it was birthed the invisible children, who founded the Church in its name. Their goal is to shelter mortals and preserve their fragile, yet precious, smallness, so that the Blackbird may continue its indulgences. Be wary of those carrying its symbols, for they are emissaries of a being whose interests are strange without equal.Then, there is the Wolf, whose spirit long ago was pulled to pieces by its own wanderlust, each fiber of its body wandering off in a different direction. Existing only as a myriad of vibrant and turbulent spirits, they are known to sometimes get lost and trapped inside the bodies of mortals, an unfortunate fate for the both of them. When their instincts for movement can no longer be contained, a mortal may be transformed, the characteristics of the Wolf overtaking their own and forcing them, too, to forever wander.
The Witch, Kraisika
Kraisika of the North was responsible for giving mankind the means to break free their bonds imposed on them by The Wilds. Along with the Goddess of Stars, who loved Kraisika dearly (but perhaps foolishly), they sought to usher in a new era.The Gods of the Old Wilds had deemed many things profane. Grasping at true knowledge, speaking ill of them, defying their wills, things that if enacted, would lead certainly to death. Kraisika was a heretic who made jewelry and charms of gold capable of shielding from their ire. She built machines and twisted magic into metal to provide for herself the favors of deities in their stead.Kraisika, and all those who spoke with her, became profane themselves, and speaking on them at length is sure to invite the ire of the gods just the same. In time, the entire North became a mysterious and forbidden place, whose culture and ways of life are entirely unknown. Even the use of gold itself eventually became an invitation to scrutiny, now only used by those most daring and reckless.Kraisika was said to favor women as her students, perhaps due to her natural propensities and affections. It is through the tales of her students that women have gained a reputation as naturally driven to invention, dissatisfied with the trappings of blind instinct alone to deliver them to prosperity. Yet, it is also why men are sometimes taught to be wary of their wives and daughters for their supposed potential to challenge the gods.Today, Northerners sometimes visit the lowlands. They are known to be a peculiar sort. Adorned in gold, they trade in secrets and have powers over heat and cold. They speak little of themselves and those with good sense know to speak little of them in turn. Yet, learning of things profane without the proper protections can invite death, and some find employment as assassins and executioners who need only whisper the secrets of the gods into the unsuspecting ears of their victims to ensure their targets’ demise.Be careful of what messages you receive.
The Wind
There was once an island kingdom blessed by The Wind, who filled their sails and allowed them to journey far and wide. They were led by a council of mostly women and served as a bulwark of peace and prosperity in the world.Eventually they fell victim to the fluctuating whims of nature, as all do, and suffered greatly during a time of drought and disease. In their desperation, their leaders decided to meet with the heretic Kraisika, who offered them independence from the whims of the Wilds. But The Wind could not stand the influence of the heretic and, despite their pleas and apologies, left them entirely.Though they recovered from their initial misfortune, with no wind to move their ships, the islands became a prison. However, they refused to give up, and took what Kraisika had taught them to take their fate into their own hands. Through years of thought and labor, great machines were built. They trapped The Wind and forced it to obey their demands.In time, a stranger appeared who vowed to free The Wind from its subjugation. In many stories he is considered a hero, opposing a people who turned their backs on the divine. But to the people of those islands the events were a terrible massacre from which they never recovered. When he let The Wind out, it was terrible in its fury, and destroyed the vestiges of their civilization in their entirety.Though it was free from their machines, The Wind had grown hot and wild, with a certain darkness to it. It determined that it would never again be held in place.
The Church
Of those faithful to the ways of the Old Wilds, there is The Church Of The Endless Blackbird. Also known as Yisoldgr, The Blackbird is one of the myriad and deific Pale Animals. Its sight is long, stretched to form the entire sky, and there has never been a time during which its presence has been absent. But, with so large a presence, it wondered what it was like to be small and finite, and thus was born its obsession with mankind.The Church is a peculiar institution. Its emissaries are children who are said to be without a visible body. They wear clothes of vibrant and beautiful blues, covering themselves entirely in order to make sure their presence is known. Whether they are mortal children who have been somehow ensorcelled or the spawn of some unknown ritual is a secret they have never divulged. But they offer things to mortals, spread the word of the longing and grace of the Endless Blackbird, and beg them to visit one of the monasteries along the coasts in pilgrimage.The Blackbird has deemed profane the instruments and undertakings mortals use to transcend their smallness. The Church teaches that seeking such things will only scar a person with madness, unhappiness, and death. Mortals can be forever beautiful and pure, but only with due diligence. Unlike other gods, however, The Blackbird is known for its forgiving nature. For those dissatisfied with such an instruction, satisfaction can be gained and redemption is possible. To be cleansed, given insight and gratitude of one’s own nature, and even miraculous peace with one’s ignorance, undertake the duty of pilgrimage to the coasts to visit the black towers found along any great body of water. There has never been a coast found without one in sight, though they may be only entered with permission.The monasteries care for those lost souls, scarred by the cruelties and unknowns of the world, and the invisible lead them in monotonous prayer. When they are deemed ready, they are led to the inner chamber to commune directly with The Endless Blackbird in isolation, an event that sometimes takes considerable time. All are warned while inside: do not open your eyes. Doing so will lead to death. Yet, those who leave the chamber are said to be uniquely pleasant and happy, though something about them has been transformed. They are sure to speak well of the process, and the Church in kind.
The Story of Karfayan and Gottaillat
Karfayan Katsamotr was a servant and guard to the Prince of the Fervent Spring who used her powers of the arcane to protect him in his travels. The Prince never stayed in place, determined to hear out the voices of his people, and take his courtly duties, such as officiating weddings and divorces, to those who could not travel themselves. But she was possessed by an echo of the spirit of The Wolf and struggled to remain by his side.Traitorous elements plotted against the Prince, seeking the rare blood of one both royal and virtuous to use in profane rituals. And, in the night when The Wolf inside her was able to pull her attention away, they saw fit to strike true.A failure in her duty, she sought to cure herself of the being that had become entwined with hers. It was during this quest that she encountered Gottaillat, a mysterious man who wore gold patterns painted over his skin and stunk of the touch of death. He was a heretic and, though he did not have exacting answers, he knew of avenues that could be pursued in order to extract the wolf spirit from her. Intrigued by her predicament, he offered to travel with her, and the two soon became close companions.She learned that long ago he had been a military commander, but had suffered a terrible defeat and was forced to flee alone and gravely wounded. Coming very near to death, he saw things normally hidden from mankind, an experience that since led him further and further in pursuit of the unknown.Between them, they discovered they shared a peculiar trait: neither had been born in a body that well reflected their spirit. Gottaillat had lived his childhood as a girl, while Karfayan had only in recent years fully come into her womanhood.Rats, ever dutiful to the laws of the Wilds, were following them, tracking the stench of the profane upon them. They met in violent conflict, with Karfayan herself emerging singularly victorious. Animated by the violence, The Wolf spirit raged in her, transforming her, and she disappeared into the wilds, leaving her wounded companion behind.Forlorn and haunted, she was nearing her breaking point, The Wolf nearly overwriting her being entirely. She bowed before its desire to aimlessly roam. In those wanderings she saw the pits and grooves once carved by Five Hands, heard the sound of the Whispering Ocean, and finally found herself before one of the monasteries of The Endless Blackbird. They welcomed her inside with an offer of peace. But, in the final baptism, they instructed her to keep her eyes closed. And she could not hold back her curiosity.Normally, such an act would lead to death, but Gottaillat, long an enemy of the Church, was able to track her presence to the place, and had come to her aid. Together, they fled. This time, Gottaillat made sure to follow closely behind the wolf girl wherever her wanderings took her. She found great comfort in his company, and, in time, the two exchanged marriage vows.Finally, they found themselves at the copper doors guarding the sanctuary within the Great Woods of Haedde. A sacred place not meant for man, but the divine presence of The Wolf allowed them passage inside.The place marked the end of their journey. Although the sanctuary seemed to have a serenity unequaled, the trees were, in fact, made of blood that boiled and frothed and was destined to soon drown the world. To make such a place, protected and sacred beyond any other, The Young Lamb had been sacrificed unwillingly, and its blood coursed through the trees and roots with a deep want for retribution.Gottaillat had been given sense of such in a dream, but upon waking he found that it was too late. Karfayan, now fully overtaken, had been driven forward by The Wolf to dig up and devour the roots of the trees one by one. She then curled and fell into a deep sleep, her dreams said to form a bulwark to keep the place in a state of perpetual limbo so that its wrath would never leak out into the world.
The Ranger and The Forest of The Fire
The Forest of The Fire, an undying wildfire, was birthed through the actions of The Horse and The Red Squirrel, two of the Pale Animals who were known for their wild and chaotic nature. For setting the fire, they were punished and turned to stone, but the Forest of The Fire lived on, a newborn divinity of swirling, tree-like spirals of flame and ash blazing across the mountains.Its makers were irresponsible and it lived in loneliness and agony for years, a fact that only worsened the danger it posed as it burned bright and wild. None dared approach it and it knew its creation was profane. But, eventually it found companionship and its rage was quelled by one of The Four Angels known as The Ranger.The Four Angels are not proper divinities. They were miracles made out of blessed clay by an apostle of Five Hands, The God That Is Missing, who has left his fingerprints upon the world. Five Hands was a deity essential to the primordial molding of the world, but he has long since disappeared, though there are tales that his fifth hand still remains somewhere hidden away.In those early days of the world, an apostle of Five Hands called Mawn turned away from his deity after a series of personal misfortunes, including his abandonment by his lover, a fellow apostle who left him for a younger girl. In his turmoil, he set a freeze upon surrounding lands, though he perhaps had not considered the death it would cause as crops died and the people starved. He later found he could not reverse the cold he had created and the guilt rooted him in despair.Without hope and haunted by the consequences of his actions, he threw himself into the ocean, but in a final moment, was overtaken by fear and cried out for help. He washed up on the shore and found the clay under his feet had been blessed. Thinking it a sign from Five Hands (though, the truth is perhaps more dubious), he used the holy clay mixed with ocean water to make four beings now known as the Four Angels. The undertaking of their craft and their subsequent companionship served as the comfort he needed.Mawn eventually perished while the Angels lived on. Without clear purpose, they wandered the world, made of a clay like porcelain and wearing white robes adorned in goldenrod. One of them who was later known as The Ranger came to the Forest of The Fire and wished only to be of help, as was the purpose of his creation. The Ranger is said to be an overly serious sort, though perhaps in a way born of naivety. It was likely that naive determination that led him to befriend The Fire. As a ceramic automaton, he was unharmed by the terrible heat, and the two are now close companions.The forest remains a thing quite dangerous, but The Ranger can ensure safe passage to those who seek their blessing. Together, they have sought to find other ways that The Fire’s powers could be used to help those in need. As inhuman beings with a history of isolation, however, they sometimes fail to ascertain the true motives of those requesting their aid. Some merely seek to cross through the mountains, pious sorts sometimes visit with intent to bear witness to the true majesty of the Old Wilds, but others design to use The Fire’s power for arcane rituals to imbue items with certain power for purposes both noble and suspect.Be wary of crossing them, for it is said together they have the power to burn not just the body but also the soul.
The Growling King
The fire had been set by The Horse in order to paint a king with the ashes. A king that ruled the mountains, attended to by his squires, Sirake and Firade. Made of cinders, he growls and snarls, a hissing child descendant from swirling wildfire. He thinks of his creators, of The Horse, The Forest and the angel who married The Fire, and cannot help but laugh. The king carries on The Horse’s whims, the chaos and turbulence beckoned in the skies and in the ground, storms and quakes. The Mountains That Growl are his domain and his rumbling bellows can be heard throughout their peaks and valleys.
The Crystal Princess
Once, a pious King in a land now forsaken wished with sincerity for the gift of fatherhood, not for want of an heir or as a mark of status but purely for the promise of love between parent and child. But he had no suitable mates and found the idea of engaging in such pursuits so contrary to his inclinations that he, in private and out of sight of his court and advisors, instead turned to the aid of a heretic known as Faw’r Leone.Leone made him a daughter out of crystal, beautiful and brilliant, who was named Haisala. Would their engagement had ended there, yet he was so taken with the profundity of her abilities that he forgot his earlier aspirations and instead found himself questioning the nature of their world and their gods for the fact that a singular woman was capable of such a thing. As their engagement was, thus far, an unsavory secret, Leone alone bore the burden of his curiosity. Her patience waned as he asked of her more and more, to demonstrate further what she was capable of and to provide for him more and more wonders over the years, until finally she said no more.But he was a beloved King and she was a loathsome heretic, so when she had the audacity to turn him away, he quickly turned to threats and ultimatums, driven by a poisonous mix of panic and pride. Covetous of her independence and secure in her prowess to see it through, Leone allowed his threats to go unanswered, and he felt there was no other option left to him.Haisala, who had witnessed the change in her father from doting parent to obsessive and vengeful, had increasingly grown frightened of him and wary of his judgment. Under cover of night, she fled from their home, driven by shame and fear of the nature of her existence, never to be seen again.Realizing he had lost his daughter, the one thing that had mattered to him so that he was willing to make peace with their enemies in the first, the King’s will collapsed in despair. Yet, the orders had already been given, his followers primed and knights ready, and he was convinced he could do little to turn back the tides and instead hid himself away.Finding themselves leaderless, aimless, with only the hunt for a heretic to guide their blades, his armies were ill-prepared and fell one by one before Leone. Yet, they are remembered as martyrs who fought for a righteous cause to this day.
The Whispering Ocean
Not all of the old divinities of the wilds are aligned in purpose, spirit, or power. Neither is a divinity defined by a timelessness or immortality, as they are known to come and go, manifest and fade, as well as procreate and perish. The gods are countless and myriad, and sometimes come to conflict with one another.Of the oldest and most powerful was Five Hands, the God That Is Missing, who has left his fingerprints upon the world. He was a sculptor, responsible for shaping the earth itself, and a great many cultures still pay homage to his deeds. Yet, his presence left the world in ancient times and can no longer be found. In some traditions it is believed that he will someday return, but in others it is said his presence is incompatible with the lives of mortals and therefore his absence an act of great charity.But there is also the counterpart to Five Hands called The Whisperer, who claimed the deepest of those pits by filling them with the oceans, becoming the Whispering Ocean in the process. Two parts to a whole, yet whether their relationship is one of harmony or enmity depends greatly upon one’s perspective. On one hand, the Whisperer filled the vessel molded by Five Hands with life-giving waters. On the other hand, its great expanses of water continuously smooth and warp a once perfect creation into something unrecognizable. Too, a great many places of significance are hidden beneath its waves: countless civilizations, the true body of the moon though its voice echoes into the sky, and even the domain of death itself.The Whispering Ocean itself is regarded as an entity of untold mystery, whose intentions and motivations are entirely obscure. It only so rarely acts in ways that make itself known as a living thing, occasionally speaking to mortals who stray close to its domain with a voice that is barely a whisper, asking strange and senseless things of them. It is even known to answer calls for help not meant for it, feigning to be other divinities and giving little indication as to its true identity save for the fact that it never asks for anything in return.That the Whispering Ocean is a dubious presence can further be attested to by the fact that along any major shore, the blackened spires belonging to the Church of The Endless Blackbird can be found. These towers exist not just as monument to make known The Blackbird’s own majesty, but also as sentinels to keep a constant vigil upon the movements of the great and mysterious body beyond.The Whispering Ocean is often positioned in direct opposition to landborn gods and mortals, a grand designer whose small and seemingly purposeless wants are adding to some unfathomable architecture eons in the making. Yet it has never been known to lash out at mortals, punish them for not living up to its demands, or ask for anything beyond an individual’s capabilities.Glass made with wave-shattered sand is said to be a gift of The Whisperer, worn by those who wish to channel its protections.
The Dead
Properly setting dead bodies to rest can sometimes be a precarious endeavor. The earth itself was molded by Five Hands, The God That Is Missing and knows well its divine providence. To bury bodies, special rituals must be undertaken to ensure they are accepted by the ground. The water in many places, too, is of divine origins and does not accept the dead without consequence.The element of copper wards against the uncleanliness of mortal life. Similar in the way that gold makes a mortal untouchable to the more pervasive of a divinities’ senses, copper shelters the impurities that make a mortal presence unpalatable to behold. Thus, while gold is known as a symbol of heretics for its potential to hide their trespasses, copper is a symbol of those most pious who seek to make themselves presentable to their masters.The adornment of corpses with copper is essential to any proper funeral. The dead that are not properly warded are sure to be rejected by the earth or water, sloughed back into the light of day and at risk for taking again to their feet. Yet, not all dead can meet this privilege, as copper that has been molded into the appropriate shapes and customs is a commodity in high demand.For those seeking another way, it is also known that The Ranger and The Fire are a compassionate sort. The fire of The Forest of The Fire makes for an excellent funeral pyre, eradicating entirely the impurities inlaid in mortal existence.Left alone and unwarded, those left behind can only pray that the deceased are found and claimed by The Magnificent, who guards the boundary between life and death, and is known to take them as his servants. Without a proper home for the dead to rest or task to busy them, malicious entities may seek to claim them and their bodies as their own.
The Winehouse
Any decision to turn away from the gods is a thing that must be carefully weighed and deliberated, as no mortal can hope to hide themselves from divine ire for long. While some are taken by rebellious fervor and others cast under fateful circumstance, a shadowy organization known as the Winehouse have set themselves apart through pursuit of profit and power.The Winehouse is an old and storied organization that trades in goods stolen directly from the bounty of the gods, their agents making arduous journeys into forbidden places and sanctuaries in order to return with spoils beyond mortal imagination. Their signature trade is in seeds from the Great Woods of Haedde, a sacred place that mortals cannot normally reach. These seeds have miraculous healing properties, able to cure all but the mark of death. The Winehouse is also known to trade in rare ritual components, fully willing to undertake less than savory means to acquire such peculiar and specific items. It was them that discovered during the great pandemic that the freshly severed tongues of those who had never spoken of the illness could ensure the livelihood of those who ingested them.The Winehouse uses the symbol of The Divine Fox as their emblem, their cadre of professional thieves subsequently referred to as "foxes" themselves. This is in no affection for the divine, as they claim The Fox as their first mark and triumph, and their emblem when properly illustrated depicts The Fox curled into a ball with daggers arranged around it pointing inwards.Unlike some heretical traditions that use tricks to mask or obscure themselves to avoid retribution, the foxes of the Winehouse employ a much more permanent solution. By means of a closely guarded ritual, they are said to forsake their personal essences, giving up name and identity entirely. Aimlessly shifting from identity to identity, they are bereft of any sense of themselves outside of the oaths and duties that bind them, yet it serves well to shield them from the divine. The foxes work with feverish intensity at the beck and call of the proprietors of the Winehouse, with only a name and a task to guide them.The Winehouse cannot be normally sought. There are no headquarters, no shopfronts, no obvious display of their symbols. Should rumor find their way to them that their services are sought, it is at their discretion to choose to meet with the potential buyer, a measure done only after ample evaluation of their assets and motivations. They do not always ask for payment in the realm’s regular currencies and do not suffer further negotiation after they have named their price.
Englex, the Fox
Englex was the fox. Englex had killed the fox. Englex was a fox among foxes. They made their home in the house that served wine. The house that killed foxes. Englex was a fox among fox killers. Their symbol was the fox, dead, in a garden of daggers. The daggers numbered ten. Englex was one of the ten. The Ten had built the house. Englex was the thief, the murderer, the conqueror, the triumphant, the prize, the quarry, the fox. A fox must be quick, must be cunning, must never know it is anything but a fox. Englex was no longer. Englex, the fox, worked for the house that served wine. Drank the wine, was the wine, traded in wine, procured the wine. The fox was dead.Once, a great dying had taken over the world. The Pandemic of Haedde. The market, the quarry, the vineyard, the prize. The foxes slit the throats and cut out tongues. The tongues were sold, their cure, their wine, their foxes, their prize. Englex procured the tongues of those who had never spoken of this death. They were made foxes, so they had never spoken. They were made of foxes so they did not understand death. Their prize was made from foxes. They sold it like wine. To connoisseurs: the thief, the murderer, the conqueror, the triumphant, the prize, the quarry, but not foxes.Englex killed a fox. Englex was the fox. Behind the mask was only The Tide. The Tide of The Ten. The mask was a death. The mask of death. A death worn like a mask. The death of Englex, to become the fox. The death was of the fox so the wine was rich. Englex was buried beneath the ground, like in the vineyard. Englex was cultivated, like the grapes. Englex’s work was harvested: the prize, the triumph, the murder, the conquest, the prize, the quarry, the fox. Englex had never spoken of death. Foxes could not understand death. Foxes only procured the wine. Foxes only were the wine. Foxes were only the shadow of death.
The Light
In the time before time, all of existence was but a hot and churning darkness. It embodied the purest chaos, yet it was also a state of unparalleled certainty, for no act nor shift nor nudge could hope to reign in its heat. It was the primordial domain of the early gods, many since faded away since that ageless time. Five Hands, the God that is Missing, who has left his fingerprints upon the world, came as one among many upon the cusp of the end to that age, not truly one thing or another, neither a singular being or many, for distinct separations between things was a state incompatible with the primordial world. It is said that Five Hands also had Four Arms, Six Hearts, and Nine Wings, yet such presences are altogether absent aside from anomalous references to their names in ancient apocrypha.As recorded by an apostle of Five Hands, when asked why such a state of certainty was ever disrupted, the deity responded, “A destruction escaped. We melted all blades to ensure our safety.” Such vagaries are common among the accounts of Five Hands, yet it can be surmised that something had upset the balance of primordial chaos such that to stop it, The Light was created.Ask a heretic sage following in the order of Kraisika and they will tell you that The Light is a lie, a charade that belies the true state of the world. The darkness remains, but is covered up by something blinding and brilliant. The old gods never solved the dilemma that had faced them and instead had devised a way to hide it away, to separate it out, so that it was no longer able to threaten them or their perfect chaos. It came with a price: for when the light touched them, many took on forms that were similarly separated, singular and limited, and so too did the grasp of the turbulent darkness itself, becoming animals and plants and minerals. Such was the origins of mankind according to heretics: that Four Arms was split open by the light and humans were formed from the coagulation of her blood.The Light wavers, unable to cover the entire sky, and the world regularly slips closer to its true form in the night. It is said that mankind is unable to see in the dark for the fact that things in the dark are not for mankind. They are hidden away, unable to be perceived, and humans are lulled to sleep in the night so that they would be spared from encountering such truths, lacking faculties needed to understand them.
Marks of Darkness
The primordial form of existence was one of turbulent heat and darkness. It was a state of order, yet simultaneously of chaos, for the chaos was so singular in its supremacy that all was spread evenly and uniformly, with no boundaries, distinctions, or forms. Light now exists in the world, giving things form and character, yet the Darkness remains, hidden away, and some have found ways to tap into its power.Seeking and challenging the boundaries of the dark can sometimes lead to peculiar injuries. Staining the flesh like a rot, they leave the original wound intact, whether a bruise or severed flesh, never to heal or recover. They are things of great suffering to any afflicted, yet, as darkness is a state of unparalleled certainty, they also seem to guard against further injury at their locus, including not only harm done by blade or impact, but also of illness and even the natural decay of the body that comes with the passage of time. Make no mistake, however, the darkness cannot be used to heal, and will instead lock any existing ailments in their current state. Moreover, once afflicted, there is no known method to reverse its effects or heal the original wounds.Beware those marked with black wounds still seemingly fresh, for any motivated to take on such an irreversible burden must be an individual uniquely driven.
The Song
We aim to give ourselves back to the darkness, transforming soul into song. The Warukur, it is called. It is played on an instrument made of sacrificed blood and bone, the chosen soul delivered into it to dream free of form and life. Those who hear its melody will start to see again through that veil of piercing light.The first song was a good man. An apostle who wished to see the face of his god. It was an act that invited a great catastrophe and left a terrible scar upon our world. Listen closely, in dreaming or longing, and his song may still be faintly heard.The magic needed to make such a thing has since been hidden away. Wash yourself with little mourning, for even with gift of clarity, the significance of such sights remains a thing beyond mortal grasp.Yet, The Ranger and The Fire know how to rid the soul of its sovereignty, so it can again dream forever into that deepest night. Give it a body and ask it to sing and perhaps again we can gaze into that world of fleeting whispers and darkness.
True Vision
I believed the saying. The pale animals can make me myself. So I sought them and found them. But I had heard the song and saw only their blank, empty faces. They are invisible things wearing corpses.
The Great Damned City, Golgund Grun
Nestled in an undulating landscape of low-lying mountains is the civilization that once was Golgund Grun. Though it is now ancient and cut with scars left by divine fury, still much of the city remains perfectly preserved with delicate architecture and the glowing ambience provided by street lights and carefully manicured foliage. Yet it is entirely empty, a corpse embalmed and lifeless, save for a single inhabitant: its ancient conqueror. She keeps the lanterns lit and watches over the secrets the city hides in its depths, for the original inhabitants knew not the truth upon the land they had built.The circumstance that laid bare the origins of their kingdom came about during the now distant time of the Pandemic of Haedde. The domain of death is normally kept separate from the living world through the diligence of the amnesiac god known only as The Magnificent. But, many times throughout history, he has forgotten his duties and allowed death to slip in where it was not intended. The Pandemic of Haedde was one such instance, a terrible plague that swept the lands and left nary a civilization untouched, even those supposed learned heretics of the north who claimed to be beyond the fickle whims of the divine.However, the kingdom of Golgund Grun, land of walnuts and roses, was left completely free from the mark of the disease. Even those foreign who sought shelter beneath its steeples were said to find their ails already dissipating the moment they crossed into the shadow of the city. Already known far and wide for their buildings made with magic, said to look like precious crowns that reached high into the sky, its unparalleled prosperity during a time of great ills did not pass unnoticed.Although the kingdom and its inhabitants claimed to be of a pious tradition, they knew not the bones upon which their city had been first built. Countless tunnels and caverns snaked their way through those rolling hills, connecting them to a place ancient and untouched by the diligence of modern deities. It is called The Black Lake, a divine presence in its own right, who somehow evaded both the cloying effects of primordial light and the sanctifying work of Five Hands, the God that is Missing, who has left his fingerprints upon the world. The Lake is a fluid not far removed from water that sinks perpetually into some limitless chasm where only its own trembling darkness can be seen and felt. The Magnificent had no power over The Lake, for The Lake had no need to keep its realities separate, and neither did those who were cast under its shadow.It was an heir of proper divinity who set her eyes upon the city, one of many who grew suspicious of their miraculous immunity. Named Lach, she was once a mortal, but had inherited the spirit of the divine Ram, whose blessing courses through her veins and grants her both vision and power. Famously unassuming for her diminutive appearance, she is yet a powerful sorcerer, able to call down and control lightning from the heavens to cleave apart flesh from soul.The inhabitants of Golgund Grun seemed to Lach somehow tainted and strangely twisted, fully alive and yet simultaneously dead, and, in an act either ascribed to be divine mercy or a terrible massacre, she made the decision to cleanse the land of its inhabitants and take a position as sentinel over that strange presence that lay beneath the hills. Her destruction was not total, but few found their escape, some forced even deeper into the caverns to find solace in the embrace of the ever-sinking Lake.Lach remains Golgund Grun’s solitary steward, ever a protector of the way of the old wilds, ever dutiful to their concerns and whims, unrelenting in her oaths and mission even after the passage of centuries. The city is hers now, though it is a tempting jewel to the wants of treasure hunters and thieves. Her work has ensured the place is known as terribly cursed and forbidden, for she has vowed to suffer no trespassers and no survivors.
Unlocked Doors
Every person fearful of the ways of the old wilds knows well to keep their doors secured, unable to be easily opened, and often locked. This is not for the sake of what might get in, of intruders or thieves, but because of what might get out. Any door able to be opened and closed, by the very nature of what it is, will inevitably attract the attention of the unknown things that lurk at the edges of the illuminated world. Considered weak points for crossing over, tales of strange, muffled voices and scratching from the other side of doors are a common occurrence. The voices can often be intelligible, sometimes asking to be let in but other times begging for food or other objects to be slipped through, and are sometimes silenced by their needs being met.Yet, accounts of having seen an actual creature are rare and any claim of an actual sighting is immediately considered dubious. “Behind every door left unlocked is a demon,” is a common saying in some parts of the world. Others believe the source to be a thing perhaps sympathetic, while still potentially dangerous, such as a departed soul caught between life and death.While explicit tales of the dangers are rare, the city of Roslik is held up as an example of what might happen should the victims be too welcoming of such entities. The inhabitants of the city of Roslik, a place famously sympathetic of such beings, are said to have disappeared one by one until the city was entirely barren, leaving no trace behind of what befell them.
The People of the Frost
In times now ancient, when the work of Five Hands, the god that is missing, who has left his fingerprints upon the world, was still fresh, an apostle of his made a terrible mistake that set an impermeable frost upon the lands he called his home. The act had been an outcry of anguish at his own personal misfortune, as he was overcome with the turmoil of abandonment and betrayal by his lover.Though he was stricken terribly with remorse for the brash and faithless act when he realized what he had done, the frost could not be reversed. The people of the land initially suffered as their crops died and food became scarce, but over time those that stayed found themselves changed more and more with each new generation.The frost was of supernatural origin, an altered stitch in the weave of the fabric around them and arguably a divinity in its own right, and over time it had knit itself into their very souls. Their lands, now known as the lands of Mawn or Mawnsuk, became known for the strange forbidding cold and the even stranger people who rely upon it to thrive, isolating them from contact with the larger world.Travelers from these lands have found ways to venture abroad, said to carry strings of beads arranged in a particular order as though they were a magical incantation. When these beads are buried in the ground, snowfall soon follows. Witness of these strange people in foreign lands is seen as especially inauspicious omen for those who have reason to fear the cold for sake of their crops or livestock.Despite their misfortunes, the people of Mawnsuk followed closely in the tradition of the man who had set the frost upon them, regarded now alike a patron saint and founder. He had repented for his vanity and found solace in devotion to his faith and the tasks associated with it, a sentiment taken wholly to heart by the people who followed after. The lands of Mawn are now overseen by the Heritor of Frost, Kulea Kuleana, who takes special pride in defending and protecting the ways of the old wilds. Her lands are offered as refuge for any of the faithful or those touched by the divine seeking asylum.
The Four Angels
The porcelain beings known as the Four Angels were created by Mawn, a disciple of Five Hands, in those earliest of days. In a moment of desperation and despair Mawn had called out to his deity to save him from his own ill-conceived attempt on his own life and was then delivered to safety upon a beach of clay that had been blessed by the touch of the divine. But Five Hands had left the world by then and what had answered him instead was the peculiar entity known as The Whisperer. Thinking it was indeed a gift from his own patron, Mawn took the blessed clay and waters and found use for them to shape the four beings known as The Angels.Yet such is not the story in its entirety, as each Angel was molded around the bloody bodies of four mortals: the leader of an early heretical cult, Varin of the Line of Iron, the man whom Mawn used to love named Clemaston, the young girl who Clemaston had left him for named Sarensenga, and Tariyan Elkhorn, who knew too much. Not only were the Four Angels imbued with these enchained souls, the water within the Angels yet churns and sways, a medium for that most ineffable deity. The Whisperer is synonymous with the oceans and it is by the virtue of the Angels that its presence follows them across lands normally beholden solely to the earth and its sculptor.The First Angel was formed to imprison a storied foe in the Line of Iron, who called for war against the divine, marking themselves with Darkness to claim a suffering immortality. Mawn assisted The Divine Hawk in subduing their leader and it is by this right that the First Angel formed of Varin's remains is known as The Hawkborne, for he was gifted feathers to shackle his will, forming wide wings capable of flight. The Hawkborne carries with him Varin’s crusade only in the relentless severity of his intensity, twisted into an obligate loyalty to the divine.Mawn was so inspired by what he learned from the creation of The Hawkborne that he then conspired for a justice more personal. Within the Second Angel, Clemaston's will was shattered to make a thing fully subservient and beautiful that knew nothing of his former life, never again to stray from Mawn's side. Long after Mawn's passing, he encountered The Forest of the Fire, and both the water inside him and the human remains were burned out by the heat, leaving him solely in control of his own faculties. Yet unknown to The Ranger, his face remains an effigy of that most terrible act.The Third Angel formed of Sarensenga became known as The Ring or The Ringheaded, for her head is formed into an open loop as Mawn could not stand to preserve her face. Blind, mute, and beset by myriad physical pains, she bore the brunt of not only Mawn’s disregard for the life of the girl whom his lover had left him for, but also became the embodiment of his dissatisfaction with himself. Mawn broke her and remade her continually throughout his life as he searched for meaning in the girl’s death and the Angel’s creation. After Mawn’s passing, she wanders aimlessly across the earth in lamentation of her fate.The Fourth of the Angels is perhaps the most curious. Donned with Tariyn’s blue horns, she was formed from only an investigative interloper and little vision was imbued into her creation. In Mawn’s house she was often overlooked and since his passing has been drawn closer and closer to the whispers inside of her. It is said She-Who-Is-Crowned-In-Blue knows many things, truths beyond her kin imparted to her by the intermixing of Tariyn’s thirst for knowledge and that most profane connection to her true patron.
The Line of Iron
When mortals first came into the world, bled from the primordial darkness of Four Arms as she was cleaved in twain by The Light, the world they were met with was one marked by turmoil. Greater beings closer to that first darkness ruled in those times, eager to finish their work calming the screaming earth and setting right all of their locks, they barely recognized the people among the myriad of other forms that had been birthed by the schism. In some mortals their smallness was felt immediately, trembling in fear most of all at the terrible sight of the skies as they were before The Blackbird emerged to cover them with her shroud, and such was what led to them to first attempt to treat with the divine.Five Hands attempted to give some counsel before His departure, while others decided a more direct hand was needed, ensuring they could not see the things they were not meant to see. But mortals were not oblivious to their place in the world, that they were new beings of a new era and the entities called gods often had only selfish aims in their treatment.The Line of Iron was the first movement of those who rejected the gods, vowing war upon the vestiges of the divine through any means necessary. Descending directly from those who knew the things that had been taken from them, they used the Darkness to seal away their mortality and grew their hair long to store their magic. They befriended the eagles and hawks to see their mission through, and it was by this virtue that one of the first of the Pale Animals came into being, slipping into the ranks of the hawks to become The Divine Hawk, able to fool them for a time into believing he was of their allies.It was through The Hawk, helped by the more pious sects of mortals, that their leader—an unclean man by the name of Varin who bound his subordinates to him through a rite of marriage—was trounced and then imprisoned within a vessel of clay. The Hawk then took speech from the animals as their punishment and cast the rest of the Line into the seas.There are yet known to be a mysterious people that stand in opposition to all things pious and divine. Marked by wounds of Darkness, they dress in black and have red eyes that shine even without light. Commonly referred to as the people of The Unknown Continent, they appear as a brutal mob wielding axes and harpoons, arriving suddenly on ocean coasts from somewhere beyond through some means obscure, only to disappear as soon as they had their fill of destruction.An ominous presence to be feared by all, they are in touch with the realm of Death, rotting the ground wherever they walk, their attire tattered and soaked by ocean water and seaweed. They are said to be led by a woman of massive stature called Sharonne who rides atop an equally massive black stallion despite missing the entirety of her head. It is no great leap to assume them to be somehow connected to the ancient Line of Iron, yet they have never been known to speak and have no known allies to share their tales.
The Fingerprint, Arra’il
The world was once a churning, turbulent darkness. It only started to take shape when its substance was exposed to The Light, a thing created by an assortment of ancient beings during a time of turmoil. Though The Light separated the world’s forms from each other, the land was said to have cried out in a terrible screaming like a newborn babe fresh out of the womb. It was Five Hands, the god that is now missing, who has left his fingerprints upon the world, who set about quelling its cries. He formed from it like a clay both the pits of the oceans and the peaks of mountains and plateaus. But, he was a being of that churning darkness, and thus his presence was incompatible with the newly formed world. He soon disappeared, a thing considered by some to be an act of great charity.But the earth did not remain in the shape that Five Hands had gifted it. Not only were other divinities at work upon it, such as the Waters and Wind that continually erode and warp it, but it is also beset by the works of men and animals, as well as the pull of the primordial darkness that takes sway in the nighttime. Since the first days of Light, much of the earth has shifted away from its original state. However, some places were touched by Five Hands deeper than others, preserving his fingerprints that mark the land even today. These places are at first identifiable by a wild, ever-rising warmth that neither burns nor creates discomfort, unlike any heat experienced in the outside world.The fabled place known as Arra’il is one such fingerprint. It is said that not only are all languages understood there, but that words spoken or written there will always convey their true intent. In Arra’il, nature and life are abundant and lush. The flora and fauna that are born in Arra’il seem to defy the natural conventions typically expected of them, emitting a strong heat and growing in strange, skyward-reaching shapes. Yet, it is also said that the echoes of the primordial screams of the newborn world can still be heard faintly within its reaches.As a place of unparalleled significance that ancient traditions seek to protect, few have ever found it. It is said to be inhabited by an apostle of Five Hands named Pilo Polo, who continues his effort to understand the deeper forces at work in the world even today.
The Heresy of Kulea Kuleana
The Heritor of Frost, Kulea Kuleana, was a pious woman hailing from a pious tradition. Hers was the land of The Frost, called Mawnsuk after their patron saint. Theirs was a divine cold, born from the tears of one blessed by having been witness to Five Hands, the God Who is Missing, Who Has Left His Fingerprints Upon the World.From the window of her castle throne room, The Heritor surveyed her people. Shepherds cloaked in white herding large spotted hares. Merchants selling beaded strings of impermeable ice. Towers and homes and roads, all built out of glittering ice and snow. Their bodies were of the cold, their skin covered in a soft, sparkling frost, hair cascading over backsides like freshly fallen snow. Kulea herself was a shifting, fluid figure, a glisten in the air following along with her steps, her long hair dissolving into an icy mist that hung around her like a royal cloak.Kulea was restless one auspicious day, drawn to pacing with a fluttering gait, for she was anticipating guests. The guests needed no introduction, wrapped head to toe in cerulean silks that dragged in great swaths upon the ground. Libia and Lula were their names, sisters nearly identical in appearance, with their faces hidden behind patterned veils and blindfolds. They were of the Church of the Endless Blackbird’s upper echelon, and the emissaries of the church were always welcome friends in Mawnsuk.The Endless Blackbird took its reign in the night and it was approaching dusk as her retinue approached the tower, a twisted, amorphous thing, spiraling up with bumps and grooves though it were a misshapen spine that stretched high into the sky. The towers had always existed, like a mountain or a river, yet it drew from Kulea an unspoken disquiet to look upon its shape.Among the congregation, Kulea found comfort in the sight of the followers of the Rat, for one of them had once stayed within her lands. They had rat-like ears and winding tails, with clawed hands and feet, and were unmistakable for their holy lineage. Rats were famous for their ability to detect the stench of evil. Hunters and soldiers, they would bury kingdoms and sacrifice despots to protect the higher order of the world. From her friend’s lips she learned a dire situation was burgeoning: the tower was host to an uninvited guest.Outside, the tower was soon surrounded by the force of a small army of unknown origin. Grim and tough, dressed in rugged cloth in darkened colors with eyes like crimson. Their blades sung of a forbidden art used in their making, emanating a darkness from them that cast long shadows across the ground they stood.A wind came, rushing through the tower’s halls like a wild animal, screaming at them as it passed by, and the crowd was shaken into silence. It howled, a vengeful wraith finally free from millenia of torture, bellowing in anguish as it broke the very glasses in their hands and knocked many to their knees. The guests scattered, quickly becoming angry and frightened, banging on doors and rattling locks.It was not long before Kulea Kuleana was forced to move, the tower shaking violently and the sudden gasps of forceful air sweltering into a warmth she could no longer stand. As a person blessed by the frost, even a moderate heat put her life in great peril. The heat was growing, heavy and unnatural, sinking in waves though it was a weighted curtain, and, as she descended, she came closer and closer to the precipice of what remained to separate her from the invading force. It was when she was nearly at the entrance doors that she heard a sound through the wall.A song.Grasping at her ears, her instinct was to try to tear it out of herself, though it was some grotesque parasite worming its way under her skin, by clawing and grabbing aimlessly. The strange familiarity of it stung like a searing heat and, though she tried in vain, there was no physicality to be scratched at, to be ripped out, to be silenced, and it rippled through her nerves, vibrating them, sinking into her skin.It was a small effort for a god to deal with the invaders. But with a gaze so wide, the true intent of their assault escaped The Blackbird's notice. When Kulea finally opened her eyes she was met with detail upon detail, compounded and layered, like a vague static hiding behind the shapes and colors. The more she looked, the more she could see, though it all was growing, humming, shrinking, shaking.The communion was called to a close, the guests ferried home, but Kulea struggled with every new sight, every new horror, watching as The Frost wormed its way through the bodies of her people, as the sky looked down on her, on them, on everything, as the ground shivered and trembled with every step. Though she was able to admit such a state to her closest confidants and they aimed in secret to pursue a cure, in time, its weight began to crush her. Hollow her out as it ate away at her interior.After many years had passed, ashamed and forlorn, she took herself back to the shoreline, to stand upon that hillside underneath the blackened tower and think on the fact it had ever looked any different. She found herself walking towards the water. Pushed forward by some vain hope to mimic the act that had saved her patron saint. To desperately cry out for something to save her even though she knew not what would answer her, as the deity that had saved him was now a thing long gone. There was comfort in the act, in the desperation that she could hardly admit, in the homage she paid to repeat the action, the steps, the pain.They were waiting for her.The cliffs formed of vivisected hillsides met in one downward swoop giving a glimpse of the dark and churning ocean beyond. At the vertex where the entire world seemed to converge was a shadow, long and towering, whose gasps of blackened wisps fluttered upwards like smoke from a fire, its figure cleaving the landscape in two.It was a door, in a way. A gateway to something hidden, something forgotten, beyond gods and mortals, faith and theory, flesh and the heavens, the self and the other. Kulea gave up what was once precious. Her inheritance. Her certainty in her faith. Her sense of order about herself. Her claim to nobility and righteousness. Her preconceptions and prejudices. As she walked forward.
thank you for reading
Kartis
Within the province of Astras a curious medicine capable of staving off the deterioration of old age was discovered, used by royal family to prolong their lives and youths. It was procured from a plant with red flowers called kartis but would only acquire the desired properties when seeded into a living mortal body and cultivated properly.