There are many conflicting ideas surrounding ‘what came before’ during the first age of Ayl’gard and that is all they can be. Ideas. For no one, no man or farling alive can claim to know for there are none who walked the realms at the Dawn of All that live today. These tales, legends of an era that have been passed down through generations, conflict wildly from culture to culture but one thing they all have in common, the one aspect of this era that appears in all the old tales, is the notion of the Dawn Wars. Continue reading “The Dawn Wars”
We’ve been travelling for about an hour or so now through the mists of Blind Man’s Road after passing by the orchards and farmlands bordering the city and I have been kicked in the shin, had my hair vigorously matted and been laughed at for nearly jumping out of my skin because I mistook a fox running through the brush for a wolf. I have missed my dear sister immensely and she’s as mischievous as ever. We haven’t seen each other for months and already it is as if we have spent the last several weeks travelling together. Continue reading “The Journal of Felix Emberheart Part 2”
The country of Lochland has never really known true peace since the first settlers landed on its shores centuries ago, long before it acquired its present name. Tales of sadness and sorrow are no strangers to the people of the winter lands. The great Houses that rule the Court of Winter are quite content to feud with one another until the influence or possible intrusion of an outside force deems it necessary to renew ancient treaties calling to arms the combined might of the Court under the banner of the King. If you were to ask any person from another realm in Ayl’gard their opinion of these northerners you might hear words such as ‘stubborn’, ‘foolish’ or ‘hot blooded’. In contrast to this, another fitting description of the frost folk that can be attributed to them is loyal. Continue reading “The Price of Fealty”
The wait is almost over. Tomorrow is the day I will finally leave Amberfall and embark on a journey I’ve been waiting for ever since I saw my first map of the Wester Vale in father’s study as a child. A chance to fulfil my dream of seeing the world, not through the journals of my predecessors or in the paintings of Goldhallow Hall but with my own eyes. I have been commissioned by the Baron of Amberfall and by the edict of King Dagon to travel the realms and chronicle my findings. Every decade or so only a select few scholars are chosen from all over Ayrlaston to journey both within and beyond our borders into the other realms, to discover the state of the world and its people. I am tasked with reporting on the current state of our neighbours, noting any potential new trade opportunities and recording even the slightest possibility of new threats to our kingdom, among other things. If I’m fortunate, perhaps I’ll even find something new, something no one has ever seen before. There’s no greater triumph for a scholar. The excitement is almost unbearable. Continue reading “The Journal of Felix Emberheart Part 1”
What is the purpose of a fly? Seriously. And by that I am referring to the common housefly that multiplies by the millions when heat and humidity come together to form a force of weather known colloquially in my homeland as ‘this bloody heat’. I’m sure that there is a perfectly reasonable biological explanation for the existence of these little buggers. Probably several considering that the word fly actually refers to an entire genus of species but right now, after weeks of listening to the sound of buzzing as they trespass upon my space and sanity, I care not for the logic of science. Continue reading “My Summer Foe”
Thunder claps in the greying sky as the merchant ship Garnet continues its voyage to the trade city of Solharbour although unknown to its captain and company, they are missing a few items of value and some crew mates.
‘What’s wrong Jasper?’ Continue reading “Four Oars to Distant Shores”
His fingers are trembling but not because he is cold. His mind is racing though he cannot pick one thought from another. Through hazy eyes this naked man, covered in soot and the filth of dead creatures, sits huddled in the corner of a mineshaft as he struggles to come to terms with where he is. A hundred questions are battling for focus through his head but he hasn’t the sense to comprehend them, let alone have the clarity to give himself time to stop and figure something, anything out. Continue reading “Broken in Bastion”
The bell in the city square chimes as the horn blows for the first time. Deep is its cry and far its call. Screams echo through the streets of Noldum as the blood of its people drenches the soil outside the city gates along the dusty stones of the Axeway leading to the Road of Red Leaves. The dark of night is descending quicker than usual as the rain clouds gather momentum in the skies above.
The solitary guard captain of the evening watch, Keon, who was woken from his slumber by the panicked cries of a recently enlisted and still inexperienced recruit, walks the wooden ramparts of the stone wall dividing the Dukedoms of Elumbria from the wild, green woods of Ardenea. After a sudden but almost decisive first assault by the Yslfar, whose arrows pierced the very rain drops to fall upon hundreds of defenceless citizens, he is now the last commanding officer of the city watch guarding the Axeway. Though he is yet to realise it. Continue reading “The Road of Red Leaves”
It is a warm evening in Amberfall as the rains wash over the city, blanketed by the glow of the setting sun. The Amberglow is full effect for everyone still walking the streets of city. Clambering road vendors hastily shelter their goods and tavern goers stand in awe with their ales at hand as Mithron’s gaze simmers through the rain drops causing a cascade of colour to fill the sky as the sun beams through the stained windows of the glass towers dotting the illustrious Glass Quarter. Continue reading “Conversations in the Sky”
In the heart of Ayrlaston, at the centre of a vast region of rivers and marshlands known as the Middemire, lies the city of Daggeron. It is an old city of water and wood, one with a history divided by circumstances of both valour and vanity. Which era can be attributed to which though is entirely dependent on who sits as the baron of the riverborn at any given time. Continue reading “The Damned Sons of Baron Thorn”
‘Impure and wretched are the cursed who walk amongst us. Pity not their fate for it has been decreed by Altyr when he spoke to his vanguard Daryan that they bear an unforgivable taint. May the pure and dawning light of the One God wash over them in death for the blight of magick, a wicked conception cast upon us by false gods, dwells deep within them. May He have mercy on them, for we cannot.
Let it be known, now and forever, that they who carry the taint, they who harbour this sin and they who forgive this curse – there is no sanctuary for you. You will be sought, you will be found and you will be Judged.’ – the teachings of Godrik Gatekeeper, Grand Minister of High Kairon. Continue reading “The Woeful Tower”
Fourteen days spent locked in the dark hold below of the merchant ship Wavedancer was the fate of a crewman who just couldn’t help but crack open a bottle of one of Blackport’s finest. He told himself he’d try just one mug, I mean what’s all the fuss about? He had convinced himself that he was more than a match for any man who said he could drink a barrel dry by sunrise. Three small cups of the stuff, that was it! With barely enough room to squeeze out a gulp or two with each pouring. But it was enough to drive him to near insanity. Continue reading “The Folly of Jolly Tobyn”