The Shattered Lands: A 4e Setting for the whole community

[Idabrius]

Hello! I just discovered this site through the Cartographer's Guild while lurking to improve the maps used in the Shattered Lands setting.

Anyway, myself (Idabrius, or Josh if ya wanna be personal) and Tuachell (Matt), two folks from the WotC boards and the Gleemax blogs, have been working on setting up a 4th Edition campaign setting that will, hopefully, be unlike any others.

We've got a website, some forums, and a bunch of other crazy stuff up already. Having been posting the production notes for some weeks at the WotC Forums, this is starting to get familiar to me. So, let me go into the basics of the setting at once.

Here are our links:

Our semi-functional website

Our forums

We are following a Mission Statement as well as some Campaign Directives. These will help folks understand the goal of this project.

[/link]

[Idabrius]

Lore attack!

Time of the Serpents: The civilizations of the dragons and the dragon-kin were born in this period. Draconic myth holds that the dragons burned away the darkness covering the world and revealed it to the light. While the dwarves alone knew metallurgy, the dragon-kin were still fearsome foes. It was only the dwarven mastery of steel that kept their strongholds from being overwhelmed.

Gigantine Era; coeval with the Eddic Era. The following Giant civilizations flourished during this time:

Flint Giants, Fire Giants, Wood Giants, Cyclops, The Aegir, The Nybilim

The Aegir built a vast empire in the south-east of Talam. The history of the gigantine period is comprised mostly of the battles between the giants and their enemies (whether it be other giants, as in the case of the Cyclops and the Nybilim, or whether it be the dark things that still inhabited the world at that time).

The Eddic Era, the legendary time in dwarven history, occurred at roughly the same time as the historic gigantine era. A  hold of dwarves in the north traded the secret of smelting with the giants in exchange for protection from the dragons and their kin who were wildly prolific during this period. Many tales of dwarf and giant against dragon originated during this time. The end of the Eddic Period (nearly two full centuries before the end of the gigantine era) was signaled by the loot and destruction of the Vault of the Grey Dwarves by an army of men and dragon-kin.

Regarding the Giants and the Dwarves
Of all the giants, the Flint and the Nybilim were closest with this diminutive people. The Cyclomachy was fought using magical tools that the dwarves had crafted. They adopted many dwarven words and called this race by the word they called themselves - the wys, or the People. In this way the dwarves spread far to the south to inhabit the realms of the Nybil-kings.

What about the men, the elves, the dragon-kin? Where are they?
The elves of this period were divided in loyalties to many chiefs, each of whom bore a Cloak of Whispering Leaves; these chiefs were often druids as well as time tested battle-leaders. Nothing like an organized religion existed in the elvish tribes. Rather, each tribe had one or more priests who had inherited their shaman-like position from their predecessors. It was not until the founding of the Stone Circle that the elves had anything resembling a religious consensus. The core of elvish religious observance was, of course, the Mysteries which were only accessible to priests and a select chosen few. They were close to the Wood Giants of the coast, as the two races inhabited the same areas.
The Dragon-kin and their masters ruled over an empire of men in the far south; the rest of the men lived as isolated tribes throughout Talam.

Ok, so how about halflings? The tieflings?
The haflings in this period were native inhabitants of the Cyclopean isles. They were pressed into service during the gigantine expansion, and many of them served beneath the Cyclopean kingdom of Ker-yis. They were eventually freed by the eladrin and resumed their rootless wanderlust, now having learned of the greater world abroad.

The tieflings are descended from the tribes of men that were called by the Dark Ones during the first years of the Confluence.

The Wasting
The Thousand Streams were blocked up, ending the gigantine era, nearly a century after the kingdom of the Graewys was destroyed. The effect of the altering river course condemned the lands in which the Aegir had built their empire to a slow desolation. The draconic empire of Abzu and the realm of the Nybilim were also affected by the stoppage of the river, and many devastating wars arose from the lack of resources during the wasting years.

Some gigantine sources (often deemed apocryphal by the remaining giant elders and priests) blame the death of the Aegir's empire on Bale One-Eye, the long estranged and near-mythical figure granted with the honor of having both founded the gigantine era (and the world, in the giant myth-cycles) and brought it to a horrible end. Strangely, Bale supposedly survived this treachery, retreating into Jandana.

The Invasion Era
The period following the Wasting was a catastrophic one in which the policy of Cyclomachy (Cyclops-war) disintegrated under mounting pressure. The Nybilim were confronted with food shortages on an epic scale as well as with war against their brothers the Aegir AND the draconic empire of Abzu. The Aegir for their part were struggling against a mad tyrant (semi-mythical Bale One-Eye) undermining their chances of survival and against the Nybilim and Abzu themselves. This left the Cyclops unchecked to wreak havoc on the other gigantine races, shattering their defenses.

In the years after Bale's disappearance, new troubles arrived to plague the world. Both were a result of the vast Confluence that occurred, breaking down the barriers between the middle world and the other realms. The first was the crawling Lords of the Duat, a group of 13 Dark Ones that had not been killed but rather imprisoned deep in the bowels of the Underworld. They called many men to them, slithering up near the surface realm. These men were given great power in exchange for their service, which the Dark Ones needed to bring them to the middle realm. Though the tiefling armies were never successful, they often pursued their own horrible goals. The second was the abrupt and un-forseen invasion of the Eladrin who began migrating from Jandana in great numbers. Their continuous influx from the other-realm characterized the invasion period as these colonists struggled to carve a place for themselves out of the power vacuum from so many devastated empires.

The invasions lasted approximately four hundred years, with periods of greater or lesser migration interwoven throughout this time. The greatest and most lasting achievement of the Eladrin was the enserfment of the Wood Giants. Both parties benefit from this arrangement, and it has continued down into present day.

The ethereal conjunction that allowed unrestricted access to the realm of Jandana to those with the secrets to getting there ended and caused the Invasion era to come to an end; no new reinforcements arrived from the Jandanese Eladrin lands, and their kingdom was forced to fend for itself.

Renewed Cyclomachy under the Western Eladrin
The islands of the Cyclops threatened the westernmost duchies of the eladrin, thus renewing the process of the Cyclomachy. However, unlike the giants the eladrin were not content to bide their time waiting and containing the Cyclopian threat. The eladrin invaded the Cyclopian isles and even caused the ancient city of Ker-yis to be sunk beneath the waves.

[Idabrius]

Dwarf-lore, as written in Eitri's Letters
Greetings again, Master Oren,

I have composed this letter for your use exclusively when traveling in lands claimed by my people. I know that your trade has not often taken you to such places but, as I promised I shall teach you how to make the best deals with the dwarves and to recieve from them the finest gold you'll ever work.

A brief history lesson
I believe that if you take the time to read over this first portion of my letters you will come to a greater understanding of my people. This is but the first of many things I will do to repay your great kindnesses to me.

Our written records descend back into antiquity. Each settlement of the Graewys contains a treasure trove of history. As each settlment is autonomous in these dark days of this world, each also bears its own history back to the decline of the great kingdom of my people in times that have long since vanished.

The earliest records we have speak of the Dragons. Those great semi-mythical creatures were common in those days. This is even before the giants came up from the lower lands, and we were friendly with the giants. No, no, these records speak of the limitless empire of Abzu and its northern sattelites. We did not wish to fall beneath the dragonic yoke like so many others had. Unlike the other peoples who were captured and brought to heel, we had a great advantage -- our elders, even in those vanished days, knew the secrets of working metal. The dragons and their priests, the dragon-kin, did not. They came at us from the sky and on the earth, but metal learned them their place.

The giants came to take the world from Dranonic talons. The imperial aspirations of Abzu subsided into the florid jungles of the deep south, and the few remaining outposts in the north dwindled and faded away. That was our era of peace and prosperity. There were those, truth be told, who went south in that time. They are now known as the Issek; these dark-skinned desert-dwellers are our cousins and kin, though their customs are strange to us.

The graewys who stayed gathered together; though some remained in their isolated homesteads, most came to the call of the great kings and we built ourselves a kingdom. Its precise location is lost to us now, perhaps somewhere far north in the Riggsland; I cannot say. But we built it and there we collected all our knowledge in a great vault, and as the song goes, three good towers were builded there.

That time came to an end with the Draconic invasions. The lingering strongholds of dragon-thralled men made the ancient land of my people a target for their incessant wars, their greed for the secrets of metal-crafting driving them. They burned our towers and they stole our secrets. From that day forth, our people were disperesed in a diaspora across the north.

A typical settlement
Now then, Master Oren, I shall describe to you the archetypical settlement of the Graewys. Understanding the taboos and the strictures which keep our society together will also assist you in your dealings with my people.

All the homes of the graewys begin with a temple and a town center. These are nearly always built upon hilltops to ensure a good command of the countryside. The temples are conescrated to the Earthfather, Eri. The rest of the town center is dedicated to the elders and the master metal-crafters. This place is kept hidden from the prying eyes of outsiders, for beneath the temple lies the vault in which the histories, secrets, and methods of that settlement are stored. The graewys do not much like outsiders prying about business they have no reason to know. We are a secretive people; we are still the only people in the middle world who can forge orichalcum and adamantium. No others know this because we have kept it close and secret. If there is one overarching thing I can tell you, Oren, it is that you should not ever pry into the secret affairs of the graewys. Doing so would do more harm to your reputation and more to quash any notion of buying ore or tools from my people than you can imagine.

From the top of the hill the town-center commands a good tactical view of the countryside. Even some graewys cannot penetrate to the heart of that sacred compound, to the vault. Beyond the town-center are the fields, several miles of them. Most artisans live just outside the sanctified heart of the community, and it is there that you will find the best markets. Further out are the farmers, who cultivate the earth in a radius of several miles. Beyond that is the great graewys outwall, which you will encounter first in your travels.

The only way into the settlement will be through a heavily defended orichalcum door, usually stronger than the wall itself. Entrance through this gate is normally unrestricted in times of peace, and a smaller door-within-the-door often stands open. This miniature portal is closed at sunset, however, to keep wanderers and bandits out.

When you go to speak at the markets my people will likely put you up with one of the farmers or artisans. Oftentimes, they will try to find you lodgings with someone who is of the same craft that you are. You may spend several days haggling with the merchants. While you are there you may notice your host moves with relative ease amongst the houses of others -- almost supernatural ease. This is because the entire settlement has likely been undermined with tunnels. These are dug for two reasons. The first: the outwall could easily be mined out from beneath but, since there are tunnels there already, the graewys could easily fight back miners. The second is tied to our history with the dragons; in times of war, they would swoop down upon our people, no matter our defenses. The tunnels allow us to fight back against enemies who can control the very skies themselves.

Foriegn Merchants
My people find use for many old and crumbling things. To acquire such ancient materials, we have recourse to speaking with many otherwise unwholesome peoples. Cheif amongst these are the goblins, the ruin-rats who scour the wreckage of fallen kingdoms and empires for goods to sell. You may, upon arriving in the marketplace of a graewys community, discover a gaggle of goblins selling various knicknacks and gizmos. My advice is to steer clear of them.

The graewys have been dealing with goblins for centuries, but men have always seemed hestitant to do so. While my people know their secrets, yours have never taken the time. While you may not get a price that is as low from my people, they will not cheat you like the goblins might.

A final word for you
I cannot thank you enough, Master Oren. If it is true, as your people seem to believe, that the graewys have some power to bless or to curse, then let your goldsmithy be the finest in all of Cantorhill. In all the north!

I hope to see you again, but even if I never do, at least this letter will have been of some use to you.

Your friend Eitri Konig penned this.

[Idabrius]

From Tertulian's Histories
The Settlment of Aescon
It is often said of the Florans that they conquered both through force of arms and nobility of will. King Clovis' actions at Aescon can hardly be said to be anything but both forceful and noble. Listen on, then, if you will, for I was one who was there when Clovis claimed that sacred ground though I was but a child.

I was born in Lavaas, in the districts of its greatest city, Puimur (Ed: currently the capital of Lavaas). When I was five I was sent with a train of Tygánian priests (Ed: an extinct Fleurisian religion) to meet the great king Clovis as he crossed the golden lands of Arbell (Ed: This seems to be an archaic reference to Arbellor, lit. Land of Golden Trees). The other youths and I made obeisance to the conqueror and his people. Their Flamen Cantor blessed us all and we followed him in train to the land of the Wellsprings (Ed: Weland?).

When we arrived, however, the peoples whom Clovis had conquered in the north had decided they would not honor his word. These were my peoples, the natives of the North. Clovis was a foreigner, but I could see in him the nobility that none of my people had. The Fleurisians built cities in Rutland that were unlike any I have ever seen. Stone walkways and drainage, no mere wattle-and-daub and mud. Glorious places.

The foolish kinsmen of mine that raised conflict against the Fleurisian armies were taught their woes. For three days the Fleurans maneuvered against them, trapping their men against their own camp. On the third day, Clovis himself led the charge into their ranks, his golden banners fluttering out behind him. The Wellings never stood a chance.

When the fighting had ended Clovis did not exterminate them or reduce them to slaves as the other peoples of the North might have done or, as I know is done commonly in the southerly climes like Keprit (Ed: Khepri, it seems) or Argot (Sargoth?). Rather, he listened to their elders and erected a shrine celebrating the union of Nyx and Mallearn - and thus declaring his own goddess, the warlike Pallea, their daughter. In this way he encouraged both his own followers and the Wellings to worship at this place.

Then, as if that were not enough, he named the holy site Aescon, the mound of Ashes, and had his ancestral remains buried there for all eternity. This would be the place in which Clovis would raise the walls of his kingdom and from which Floresan would prosper.

[SilvercatMoonpaw]

Sounds nicely mythical.

[Idabrius]

Halflings; Pried. The very words invoke the rigid societies of these people. Looking upon one of them in a robe or tunic that has silver, gold, wood plates sewn into it we are constantly reminded of their station in life--as are they. Unlike most of us, the pried are dominated not by their males but by their females. The Priesthood Council of Demat is composed singularly of female halflings. Most of their great thinkers, artisans, and leaders were female. A man is expected to learn and take on the caste-roll of his spouse and his children will follow his wife's caste-roll as well.

They were once slaves to the Cyclops, that much is commonly known. They lived on the Cyclopian Isles before the great city of Ker'yis was drowned; some still do. Their religion has been carried with them from those days, and they speak to their gods through intermediaries known as the Drowned Ones--their ancestors who did not escape the Drowning. Halfling worship is divided up into two camps or "courts". Some nations primarily worship the Sunwarden and her allies, who are a warlike tribe of gods that live on an island and some primarily worship the Reed Queen and her followers, who live in the Reedland. Both courts dwell in the Duat, receiving prayers and granting them from time to time. Collectively, these deities are known as the Masters of Salt and Wave.

The largest halfling nation this close to the coast is Demat, settled when they first landed after the Drowning. Its hero and founder was called Ysabell Calla Deathcaller and it was under her leadership that the nation was founded. Demat, like the other nearby halfling nation of Stêr, is a forest of tiered stone buildings and vast canals. The halflings know the secrets of drawing water from a low place to a high one, and of using it to open heavy doors and even to raise slabs of stone.

The halfling castes are divided into three general categories in Demat: The High Castes, which include priests and the sages, the House Castes which include the high artisans and engineers, and the Minor Castes which are the workers and lesser artisans. Farmers have a category of their own, considered socially equal to the House Castes for a family-head (matriarch) but all others are within the Minor Castes.

Halflings from any nation name themselves as a personal and then family name (which is inherited through the matriarch) followed lastly by their caste-title. Some important Caste Titles from Demat include...

Religious Castes:
Deathspeaker; the highest religious caste, the Mistcaller is a High Priestess, usually someone on the Priesthood Council.
Lorekeeper; a slightly lesser religious caste, Lorekeepers are religious historians, and may also be on the Priesthood Council.
Sunkeeper or Reedward; the clerics who oversee temples or religious ceremonies of importance, usually tasked with teaching apprentice clerics.
Mistcaller; a cleric with no standing who has passed her Trials.
Acolyte; a novice cleric who has not yet passed her Trials.

Scholarly Castes:
Seaholder; engineers trained in working with water.
Wordmason; scribes and other professional writers.
Willworker; wizards and other arcane spellcasters.

Most of the House and Minor castes are named after their professions; ie, "Highmason" and "Mason" for master and minor masons.
The political structure of Demat, the closest halfling nation, is based upon the Priesthood Council, established by Ysabell Calla Deathspeaker. The Council is composed of twenty seven clerics who are voted to serve for life by the High and House castes. The Council debates all courses of legislation whereas a specific caste of Wordmasons, the Truthseekers, run the court systems. Council debates require a majority vote for most normal actions.

The court systems of Demat are complex and sometimes convoluted. Truthseekers oversee them and make inquiries into the allegations (which may be brought forth by any caste, though Minor castes must have patronage from a House or High cast halfling before they may accuse High caste members) while each side is given the council of Lawknowers (whose caste-profession is dedicated to contemplating the laws of Demat).

Halflings are normally 36-38' in stature. They normally do not wear beards or facial hair of any kind, though they do grow it and have to keep it trimmed.

Halflings of Demat (and Ster) tend to wear longer clothes with more layers; robes are the norm for higher castes. Lower castes wear fewer layers or even tunics. Members of every caste sew plates of gold, silver, ivory, chased wood, and other materials into their clothing in order to display their places in society and their pride in their heritage. These are often carved with small scenes from Pried history or long passages from the Kevrin Levr.

Sample Halfling Names (Female): Beladore, Berthild, Driserys, Metlia, Prostlon, Rozen, Ysabell, Alaiett, Armelle, Benac,
(Male): Adiuni, Belado, Conbrit, Disideri, Heranal, Lagu, Maeldoi, Kanan, Maonirn, Mihael

[Idabrius]

Perhaps the strangest city in all the north, Candovar gets its name from the corrupted Flint-Speak Brachos Ovarr which means 'kind stones'. Up until a little over one hundred years ago, Candovar was an abandoned ruin, fit only for the brief stopover to wonder at its strange sights. However, in 2107 / 4075 Gabard the Slayer, a renowned warrior in his time, claimed the temple complex portion of the ruin as his keep.

He was soon taxing Deepmine merchants moving along the road as well as Southroad caravans. Within the decade, both routes had altered course to include stopovers in this new settlement. Within 40 or 50 years the city bloomed in size, taking in refugees, adventurers, and thrill-seekers the world over.


Government in Candovar
It may surprise you to learn that there is almost none. Unlike the civilized portions of the North, Candovar operates strictly without rule. Gabard left his position to a council of wealthy men and women, all former adventurers, and their places were refilled over the years in popular elections. However, besides organizing defenses of the city they do nearly nothing else.

It is said that money runs Candovar, and that is partially true. Money and knowledge rule the city, both magical and mundane. There are several wayward Brothers of the Book in the city who have great influence and there is also the Scholarium, an organization of mystics and will-workers.
The city itself is anarchic in structure and tact. However, since the best thing for everyone is usually to get on in order to keep the caravans safe, outsiders are usually not beaten or killed in a public or obvious way. Be warned, however, that just because the city functions does not mean it isn't the most dangerous gathering of people in the North.


Citizens of Candovar
There's no such thing as citizenship in a city with no laws. People set up places to call kip anywhere they like. This also means that the population of exotic folks, from halflings to eladrin, is huge in this city. They tend to cling tightly, forming communities amongst the greater chaos, but there are more of the other races here than any other single location in the North. In fact, the greatest concentration of Dragonborn that is not in hiding lives in Candovar.
Interestingly, Candovar is a place where most goblins (both Travelers and Settlers) seem comfortable doing business with mankind without forcing men to come to them.


Location of Candovar
Situated on the east side of the Iceflow and just north of the place where it runs into muddy swamps and ruin-filled lowlands, Candovar is also south of the Eikwood Forest and the Hobgoblin infested plains along the shore of the river there. This makes it a perfect location for goods to be ferried across the river into Weland or taken north around the woods to Lavaas.


Sites in Candovar
Amazingly, the entire city of Candovar is illuminated at night. Long ago, during the Gigantine Era, the giants who lived here brought a trove of jewels to the Gray Kingdom and had them fashioned into lightstones. These stones were placed on the tops of tall winding posts fashioned to look like intertwining roots all over the city. When night falls, each stone begins to glow softly. By the time dusk has ended, the streets are a calvacade of colors. Lightstones can be found in places other than tall poles as well; fountain-side lightstones are not uncommon and neither are alleyway stones that are built into the very buildings. All of these stones are affixed by some powerful magic and are nearly impossible to remove. In the rare cases that a few have been pried free, many of those went dark within a few days from damage.

The Shivers
There are portions of the city where the Lightstones don't shine. These vast dark swathes are mostly uninhabited. During the day they are simply a bad place to visit, as one might be swindled or robbed by a local. At night however, not even locals tread these places. Many of the Shivers are unexplored or bear open doorways into untamed portions of the ruins, still teeming with wild things that have grown their over millennia of disuse. Every so often some foolhardy adventurer emerges from these places with an armload of ancient gigantine magic, but for every one who does so it is likely that ten die gruesome deaths.

The Courtyard of the Iron Circle
Gigantine Stepping Circles are uncommon. Even more uncommon is one that is in such good condition. Standing before the temple-complex at Candovar's heart is a large giltwork circle laid into the ground. This circle is surrounded by twisted iron columns, each made of black meteoric iron that was hammered out by dwarves. The columns bear inscriptions on their length and breadth, and lightstones inset into their sides. The Iron Circle is the most well known Stepping Circle in Tamal.

It is said that there are mages who know the secret of activating the Stepping Circles and, by drawing one on the ground where they stand, can bring themselves from anywhere in the world to Candovar or one of the lesser known circles located in the ruins throughout the world.

[Idabrius]

A map of the tiniest northern bit of the setting
(it is large)
[spoiler][/spoiler]

[Idabrius]

Wizards, magicians, mages; whatever they are called, there are organizations the world over that specialize in their training and in allowing them to come together in social units. These are as different from each other as the stars from the sea, so it would behoove you a moment to sit down and read over what I have written. You may find insight into foreign peoples that you never knew before.

The North: The Brotherhood of the Book
In the North there is one great overarching organization that draws most mages into its folds. This is the Brotherhood of the Book - not that all of its members are men. The Brotherhood is a guild, of sorts, in which wizards who have passed the requirements of their peers (usually by crafting a Masterwork spell) are granted Master-ship. These Masters are expected to take on at least one apprentice and train them in the mystic art. Masters are entitled to wear black robes without insignia as well as black hoods. This makes a black-robed figure stand out in the North as a Master magician almost immediately.
Mages from the Broterhood tend to wear simpler things, however. They often see themselves more akin to master craftsmen than to powerful will-workers. The Brotherhood has no formal structure other than the Master-Apprentice hierarchy. Masters have complete control over an apprentice, though most treat their young ones with more or less compassion and care. The Brotherhood gathers at least once a year in disparate places across the north. The most often used sites for these meetings are uninhabited and out of the way ruins where they share warm ale and tell stories by starlight.

The Brotherhood does have a vague notion that the status quo is preferable. To this end, while many may get caught up in various nationalistic emotions, as a whole the Brotherhood tends to disdain warfare and any other changes that might destroy the lands where they make their livelihood.

Masterwork spells are often rituals that are passed between one member of the Brotherhood to another for a nominal fee. They also frequently bear the name of the Brother or Sister who crafted them - for example, Waylund's Wasting or Martinus' Servant.

The North: The Scholarium
Located in Candovar, the Scholarium is a small school of wizards and warlocks who share their adventures and their secrets. They were founded by several like minded adventurers who settled in Candovar in their twilight years as the city grew. The halls of the Scholarium are closed to all but the elect few. Most members must prove themselves before they are admitted. While they take a few pupils every year, the number is extremely small.

Brothers view Scholarium training almost as badly as they view Waystriders. Many see it as even worse, for where Waystriders are at least interested in knowledge for its own sake, Scholarium scholars are little better than glorified thieves (in their eyes) seeking to loot the treasures of lost ages.

[Idabrius]

The following is an Orcish Folktale from the Shattered Lands:

Omayyar was neither a prince nor a soldier. His family was not one of prestigious honor stretching back into the shadows of history. He was a farmer, and a farmer was his father. That is not to say that he was neither wealthy nor successful! Far from it! Omayyar was a clever man who knew how to tell a story. So great was his tongue that he could take fifty silver coins and, just by his words alone, turn them into five hundred!

Now, Omayyar took great pride in the stories he told. One day he heard grandmother Nanesh recounting rumors she'd gathered in the marketplace. She spoke of a man so clever, wise, and cunning that he could spin a lie and in so doing make it true! Well, Omayyar was flustered and angry when he heard this story. So much for my ambitions, he though. I am nothing more than a country farmer. This man that grandmother Nanesh speaks of'¦ he must be a wizard. But when Omayyar himself went to the market the following morning to sell his rice and the fish he had raised, he too heard these rumors. The man was of no great account, they said, and he seemed just a normal fellow until he opened his mouth. Then the most beautiful lies would spring forth and for a few moments, they would be true.

Omayyar felt as though his entire life had been meaningless until that moment. There was a man who could make words be truths even when they were not - he must meet this man. That very afternoon Omayyar sold his farm for a sackload of golden coins and provisioned himself for a long journey. The truth-speaking man had last been seen in Xu-lin Province and Omayyar would waste no time tracking him down. By that evening the farmer Omayyar had traveled seven rods north and taken rest at a traveler's-house along the road. While he was there he heard the rumors anew - the truth-speaking man who could spin reality out of lies.

Now, you and I both know that the Xu-lin Province is the farthest north of all the lands of men and separated from civilization by the wilds of the Kuang and between the two great Serpent Rivers there is not a single city. Omayyar knew this too, but his desperation to reach Xu-lin was so great that his entire self hung upon it. It had become a point of pride, a point of honor, to go and find the truth-seapking man.

[more to come]

[Idabrius]

From the Chronicle of Theobald Turraine, 1237 Roll of Kings

The Emperor is dead.

I was with the procession that came to the royal palace in the unkind dawn as the incense lingered with the mists rolling in off the rivers. The golden half-disk of the Flamen Cantor swayed uneasily over us as he wandered up the narrow streets. We could hear whispers from open shutters; those who were awake yet already knew. The Cantor murmured benedictions and prayed for the Dusk Lady to watch over us, but I heard someone remark that it was a long way till dusk. A bloody day was ahead.

The palace lay quiet. It had already become a tomb in honor of what I am now sure will be the last great Emperor. His seed had fallen on so many fertile fields only to lie fallow--can it be that his idiot nephew will be crowned? He will not. I know this, for when we arrived by the imperial bed the aged Cantor drew up his breath and with a haggard sigh spake the words "So dies Floresan in him." Do we die too? Are we not required to wither and dry like the fruit upon the vine which has lost its root? Who can remember a time when there was neither Emperor, King, nor heir? Pallas does not weep for the city of Aescon. Nay, Lady Pallas weeps not upon all of Floresan. Her tears do not caress us in soft rains. I feel instead her despite, her disdain. When the last Amaranth choked and turned a violet hue she did not weep nor did she chuckle. Our Lady of the Dusk simply scowled and turned away. When the last Amaranth is laid in his familial crypt and the great gates are shut for the final time Cyprissar will sing a song of such solemnity that the very pillars of Aescon will crack and fall.

How can I go on? I struggle to continue my daily life and make good on the many small small things I once promised. The joy is gone from them. I hear sometimes the shouting in the streets as the people demand a leader. I have prayed to Mallearn, Tygán, and to Nyx all three that they will make things right. They do not listen. The temple of Tygán has stood empty these ten years and the last time I saw a Nyxian priest I was only a boy. So we are left with the dead gods and those who care nothing for men. So we are left with emptiness.

I have seen the omens. I have seen the signs. Blood will soak the streets of Aescon before too long. When peace does not quickly come even more blood will be spilled. I have known the unkind touch of the future-seeing eye and I have witnessed more than I can yet say. Who shall hold the cloth together when the weaver is gone? What stitchwork I ask can keep the provinces under the thumb of Aescon? Already the priests have made their retreat to the hill of Songs and Singers in the north. I heard them slip out of the chains of dying Aescon and through the northward gate in the night like thieves stealing out of their masters chamber, having stolen the secret of fire.

They are bolder than Nyx. They would pluck not only the one secret but all from the mouths of the ancient brooding terrors and they would call themselves kings. Perhaps the cursed boy, no true Amaranth he, will tremble meagerly upon a throne of gilded silver in the street of Clerics in the north, but he will be no Emperor.

The Emperor is dead.