Willowmere
Baddest Leaf You'll Ever Meet
The Edge:
A powerful gust of wind screeched from the east, carrying the cold, salty air of the endless oceans down below. Elder Aswer walked along the old rarely trodden dirt road with only his old brown cloak for protection against the strong winds, woefully inadequate in the face of the powerful currents this close to the Edge. His trusty staff aided him in staying on his feet as he walked against the storm-like force pushing against him, his body too fragile to do it on his own. He planted the wooden pole firmly into the ground before taking a few steps forwards, then over and over again as slowly but surely marched across the flat lands, the horizon unbroken by even the smallest hills.
Still, he continued undeterred. Were he two hundred years younger, these gales would have felt like a soft summer breeze on his skin, but as age took it's toll so did his strength wane over the centuries. Now he felt as if he could topple over at any moment, to be carried away in the air like a leaf in autumn. Lifting his head to look ahead, as the wind violently tore his hood from his head, revealing two long pointed ears, one of them clipped short. A feeble smiled formed upon Aswer's heavily wrinkled face while he held an open palm against his eyes. Far in the distance, across the flat horizon line, a dim white glow glittered like pearls beneath the sunlight.
His goal now in sight, the old elf continued his arduous trek. Three steps, then he stabbed his staff on the soft ground. One, two, three, stab. One, two, three, stab. It was the very same staccato rhythm he had learned to wield his spear so long ago, and even now his trained served him one last time, even if not in combat.
Soon he arrived, his arms and legs burning with exhaustion and his lips long dried. His ever aching back now felt like it would snap at a moment's notice, and his body screamed at him to just collapse on the ground. Aswer merely ignored this as he fell to his tired knees and gazed at the scene before him. He had finally reached the Edge.
A dozen meters in front of him, the earth abruptly cut off- like the sheer cliff of a mountain, yet so much more. Looking side to side, there was no end to this enormous cliff in sight- and that was because it was no cliff. Beyond and below this edge, was an unending landscape of blue. A humongous ocean stretched for what seemed infinity, reaching the horizon and beyond. The sunshine was reflected upon the surface of the distant water- the source of the pearlescent glow he saw from so far away; and if one were to be brave enough to peer down the edge, they would realize the truth.
The continent they were upon was floating, far above the infinite ocean, slowly drifting across it.
Aswer laughed as he crawled to the edge, heedless of the dirt and sand clinging to his worn clothes. Only once he was dangerously close to the edge, to the point it felt like he was staring death in the eye, did he stop- still wearing a bright smile on his face. He tore an old rusty necklace from his neck and held it before him with a trembling hand as the small locket hanging from it opened itself, revealing a tiny ancient painting too blurred and faded to make out anything beyond shapes and blobs of peeling paint.
It was time. He would join his ancestors.
His grip on the necklace slacked, and it fell down towards the oceans below.
Soon he joined it, smiling all the way to the end.
Alteria is a world sundered by the incomprehensible magic of the Far Gods, once not too unlike our own. After the eldritch touch of these gods touched it though, a cataclysm of untold magnitude swept the land and twisted it into a completely different shape. Now, Alteria is an enormous sphere of water over which hundreds of titanic continents float above, lazily drifting across the waves.
Hundreds of thousands of years have passed since then, and now the surviving mortal races dwell in the floating continents unbidden by a long forgotten and long gone Old World. No one remembers about the times past, and as far as they are concerned Alteria has always been this way. Countless species live together in the myriad of continents- the floating landmasses only meeting each other every five hundred years in an event known as the Convergence- and many separate cultures have formed in the world at large, some of them destined to rise and fall without ever being found.
The continent we'll set our eyes on, however, is Ressiath. A behemoth of high mountains, lush forests, frozen tundras and scorching deserts, Ressiath is home to many species; be they human, elf, dwarf or something else. Dozens of kingdoms call this land their home, and despite the large populace most of Ressiath remains yet to be explored by the sapient races- and across the eastern edge of the land lies the kingdom of Delestre, where humans co-inhabited together with a handful of other races.
Ressiath is far from a peaceful land, but it has achieved a sort of fragile political balance between the many kingdoms and empires that call it home- while there are several cold wars and border skirmishes, no open warfare is currently being waged- though many nations have been preparing for conflict, and with the appearance of an enigmatic cult worshiping the stars, the people are growing restless...
Their earliest spotting dates back to a couple of centuries, shortly after the Church cemented itself as the dominant religion of the continent. Back then the cult was comprised of a handful of select individuals and as such they were mostly ignored as their activities were rather harmless and more scholarly in nature. In the recent decades however, their ranks have been swelling dramatically, to the point that even top officials and inquisitors are no longer sure just how vast the cult has become. They have also begun to commit acts of terror against the public, striking in multiple nations with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Due to this, a few inquisitors were dispatched to quell the cult, yet they have been largely unsuccessful in lieu of just how fanatical its members have apparently become- uncaring of any official or 'extra-official' methods of interrogation are employed against them.
Due to their actions, the Church has branded them as heretics. They are actively hunted by inquisitors and paladins all across the land, and multiple nations have even joined in, capturing what members they find and turning them over to the Church as a way of currying favor.
The cult has been seen using a mysterious, previously unknown kind of magic on multiple occasions. This so called star magic is an enigma to most of the world, as the cult hoards any and all information about it; however, from what has been seen of it, it appears to be particularly attuned to both mind and soul- perhaps even moreso than necromancy itself.
However, in recent years the Trifect's has slowly started to come apart as the diplomatic relations between the three kingdoms slowly started to degrade- a problem exacerbated by recent activity from the Star Cult, which has begun sabotaging the alliance in hopes of causing the Trifect's dissolution for unknown reasons.
The Church has always had a heavy presence in the three kingdoms, but now due to the waning authority of the Trifect, the Church has begun to slowly take control away from the federation. This is particularly noticeable in Vismark, where Church and state are heavily intertwined. Paladins and inquisitors roam the kingdom in search of heretics with impunity, who are then either executed on the spot or given to the Church. Seltrop is similarly subservient to the Church, though unlike it's neighbour it doesn't permit unsanctioned witch hunts within it's borders, and while Caelanth is the least pious of the three nations, the Church still has a vast political influence over the small kingdom.
Not even the religious organization has been able to stop the kingdoms from being at each other's throat due to interference from the Star Cult however, and as relations sour between the three nations, the official dissolution of the Trifect looms in the horizon, something which could perhaps be the spark that shatters the fragile peace that settled in the entirety of Ressiath, and plunge the continent into chaos.
A powerful gust of wind screeched from the east, carrying the cold, salty air of the endless oceans down below. Elder Aswer walked along the old rarely trodden dirt road with only his old brown cloak for protection against the strong winds, woefully inadequate in the face of the powerful currents this close to the Edge. His trusty staff aided him in staying on his feet as he walked against the storm-like force pushing against him, his body too fragile to do it on his own. He planted the wooden pole firmly into the ground before taking a few steps forwards, then over and over again as slowly but surely marched across the flat lands, the horizon unbroken by even the smallest hills.
Still, he continued undeterred. Were he two hundred years younger, these gales would have felt like a soft summer breeze on his skin, but as age took it's toll so did his strength wane over the centuries. Now he felt as if he could topple over at any moment, to be carried away in the air like a leaf in autumn. Lifting his head to look ahead, as the wind violently tore his hood from his head, revealing two long pointed ears, one of them clipped short. A feeble smiled formed upon Aswer's heavily wrinkled face while he held an open palm against his eyes. Far in the distance, across the flat horizon line, a dim white glow glittered like pearls beneath the sunlight.
His goal now in sight, the old elf continued his arduous trek. Three steps, then he stabbed his staff on the soft ground. One, two, three, stab. One, two, three, stab. It was the very same staccato rhythm he had learned to wield his spear so long ago, and even now his trained served him one last time, even if not in combat.
Soon he arrived, his arms and legs burning with exhaustion and his lips long dried. His ever aching back now felt like it would snap at a moment's notice, and his body screamed at him to just collapse on the ground. Aswer merely ignored this as he fell to his tired knees and gazed at the scene before him. He had finally reached the Edge.
A dozen meters in front of him, the earth abruptly cut off- like the sheer cliff of a mountain, yet so much more. Looking side to side, there was no end to this enormous cliff in sight- and that was because it was no cliff. Beyond and below this edge, was an unending landscape of blue. A humongous ocean stretched for what seemed infinity, reaching the horizon and beyond. The sunshine was reflected upon the surface of the distant water- the source of the pearlescent glow he saw from so far away; and if one were to be brave enough to peer down the edge, they would realize the truth.
The continent they were upon was floating, far above the infinite ocean, slowly drifting across it.
Aswer laughed as he crawled to the edge, heedless of the dirt and sand clinging to his worn clothes. Only once he was dangerously close to the edge, to the point it felt like he was staring death in the eye, did he stop- still wearing a bright smile on his face. He tore an old rusty necklace from his neck and held it before him with a trembling hand as the small locket hanging from it opened itself, revealing a tiny ancient painting too blurred and faded to make out anything beyond shapes and blobs of peeling paint.
It was time. He would join his ancestors.
His grip on the necklace slacked, and it fell down towards the oceans below.
Soon he joined it, smiling all the way to the end.
Lore Primer:
Alteria is a world sundered by the incomprehensible magic of the Far Gods, once not too unlike our own. After the eldritch touch of these gods touched it though, a cataclysm of untold magnitude swept the land and twisted it into a completely different shape. Now, Alteria is an enormous sphere of water over which hundreds of titanic continents float above, lazily drifting across the waves.
Hundreds of thousands of years have passed since then, and now the surviving mortal races dwell in the floating continents unbidden by a long forgotten and long gone Old World. No one remembers about the times past, and as far as they are concerned Alteria has always been this way. Countless species live together in the myriad of continents- the floating landmasses only meeting each other every five hundred years in an event known as the Convergence- and many separate cultures have formed in the world at large, some of them destined to rise and fall without ever being found.
The continent we'll set our eyes on, however, is Ressiath. A behemoth of high mountains, lush forests, frozen tundras and scorching deserts, Ressiath is home to many species; be they human, elf, dwarf or something else. Dozens of kingdoms call this land their home, and despite the large populace most of Ressiath remains yet to be explored by the sapient races- and across the eastern edge of the land lies the kingdom of Delestre, where humans co-inhabited together with a handful of other races.
Ressiath is far from a peaceful land, but it has achieved a sort of fragile political balance between the many kingdoms and empires that call it home- while there are several cold wars and border skirmishes, no open warfare is currently being waged- though many nations have been preparing for conflict, and with the appearance of an enigmatic cult worshiping the stars, the people are growing restless...
The Star Cult:
The Star Cult is a religious group comprised out of people coming from many backgrounds and many species. The cult, as their name implies, heavily reveres the stars and the strange mystical energies they hold with fervor, and provide worship to their 'Far Gods' in a variety of different ways, from prayers to offerings, and much more worryingly: Sacrifices.
Their earliest spotting dates back to a couple of centuries, shortly after the Church cemented itself as the dominant religion of the continent. Back then the cult was comprised of a handful of select individuals and as such they were mostly ignored as their activities were rather harmless and more scholarly in nature. In the recent decades however, their ranks have been swelling dramatically, to the point that even top officials and inquisitors are no longer sure just how vast the cult has become. They have also begun to commit acts of terror against the public, striking in multiple nations with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Due to this, a few inquisitors were dispatched to quell the cult, yet they have been largely unsuccessful in lieu of just how fanatical its members have apparently become- uncaring of any official or 'extra-official' methods of interrogation are employed against them.
Due to their actions, the Church has branded them as heretics. They are actively hunted by inquisitors and paladins all across the land, and multiple nations have even joined in, capturing what members they find and turning them over to the Church as a way of currying favor.
The cult has been seen using a mysterious, previously unknown kind of magic on multiple occasions. This so called star magic is an enigma to most of the world, as the cult hoards any and all information about it; however, from what has been seen of it, it appears to be particularly attuned to both mind and soul- perhaps even moreso than necromancy itself.
The Trifect:
The Trifect as a whole is not a single nation, but rather, the alliance of three small nations who grouped together into a single federation, those being the kingdoms of Caelanth, Vismark and Seltrop. The three joined together into a single power in order to protect themselves from the large empires that dominate the rest of the floating continent, and for two centuries the alliance flourished. The kingdoms remained somewhat independent from each other, and come together as a senate to lead the Trifect whenever necessary.
However, in recent years the Trifect's has slowly started to come apart as the diplomatic relations between the three kingdoms slowly started to degrade- a problem exacerbated by recent activity from the Star Cult, which has begun sabotaging the alliance in hopes of causing the Trifect's dissolution for unknown reasons.
The Church has always had a heavy presence in the three kingdoms, but now due to the waning authority of the Trifect, the Church has begun to slowly take control away from the federation. This is particularly noticeable in Vismark, where Church and state are heavily intertwined. Paladins and inquisitors roam the kingdom in search of heretics with impunity, who are then either executed on the spot or given to the Church. Seltrop is similarly subservient to the Church, though unlike it's neighbour it doesn't permit unsanctioned witch hunts within it's borders, and while Caelanth is the least pious of the three nations, the Church still has a vast political influence over the small kingdom.
Not even the religious organization has been able to stop the kingdoms from being at each other's throat due to interference from the Star Cult however, and as relations sour between the three nations, the official dissolution of the Trifect looms in the horizon, something which could perhaps be the spark that shatters the fragile peace that settled in the entirety of Ressiath, and plunge the continent into chaos.
