Multiple Settings 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐋 {Lore}

[DreamRider1]

The Lore of Veyndralis – A World on the Brink of Collapse​

Veyndralis has always been a land shaped by magic, war, and fate. A realm of soaring islands and endless caverns, of ancient secrets buried beneath the waves, of gods who never answered prayers. Magic is not a gift from the divine; it is the breath of the world itself. And now, that breath grows weak.

For centuries, the balance of power has been dictated by those who wield magic and those who seek to control it. Empires have risen and fallen. Beasts of legend have faded into myth. And in the heart of it all lies the oldest truth—magic was never meant to last forever.

But what was once a slow decay has turned into something far worse. Something stirs beyond the veil of reality. Something that was meant to remain buried.

And if the Heart of Aether is not found in time, Veyndralis will fall into ruin.

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Magic & The Dying World

Magic in Veyndralis is not just an energy source—it is the very fabric of existence. Every spell cast, every enchanted blade, every whispered prophecy draws from the same great current that weaves through the land. Scholars and mages once believed that this current was infinite, an eternal force that could never be depleted.

They were wrong.

The Hollow Sovereign’s influence has spread like a sickness, unraveling the essence of magic itself. Those attuned to it—mages, enchanters, even creatures like dragons and unicorns—can feel it slipping through their grasp. Spells flicker and die. Ancient relics fail. Entire biomes shift unnaturally, as if the world itself is struggling to breathe.

The Seven Elements of magic—Aether, Flame, Tide, Terra, Zephyr, Umbral, Solaris, and the Forbidden Void—are no longer stable. Some vanish entirely in cursed lands where magic is broken. Others warp into something unrecognizable.

And the worst part? No one knows how to stop it.

Unless the Heart of Aether is reclaimed, this unraveling will continue until nothing is left but dust and silence.

---

The Hollow Sovereign – The Devourer Between Worlds

Long before kingdoms rose, before magic had names, there was The Hollow Sovereign—a force, not a god, yet more than mortal comprehension could contain. It is entropy, hunger, the nothingness that existed before the first light.

Legends say it once ruled a world that no longer exists. A world devoured, consumed until even the memory of it faded.

But it was sealed away—not destroyed, for such a thing cannot die. No one knows who did it. No one knows how. Only that the great fracture in the world’s fabric was stitched closed, and for a time, magic thrived.

Now, the seal has weakened. The Hollow Sovereign stirs in its prison, whispering to those foolish enough to listen. Its influence manifests in cursed lands where time is distorted, where shadows move without light, where whispers slither through the minds of the desperate.

And the worst of them—the Riftborn Cult—do not fear it. They worship it.

If the Hollow Sovereign fully awakens, it will not conquer. It will not rule. It will consume.

And this time, there may be no one left to stop it.

---

The Age of Factions – A World Divided

With magic failing, kingdoms turn against each other, each believing they hold the solution—or the right to claim power before the world ends.

The Empire of Varkath – The Gilded Tyranny
Varkath was once a nation of scholars, artisans, and warlords. Now, under the rule of Emperor Aldric Vaelor, it has become an empire of steel, expansion, and control.

With magic fading, Varkath has turned to alchemy, mechanical warfare, and relic experimentation to maintain dominance. They hold the Heart of Aether, not to restore balance, but to claim its power for conquest.

The Emperor’s greatest belief?
"If magic is dying, let it die. The strong will survive without it."

The Aetherborn of Sylvaria – The Fading Light
The Aetherborn—winged fae, once considered the most magically gifted beings in Veyndralis—are among the first to feel the effects of the unraveling. Their floating isles, once held aloft by Aether currents, have begun to sink.

Their nobles are divided. Some wish to steal back the Heart of Aether and restore magic to its former glory. Others fear that such meddling will only hasten the Hollow Sovereign’s return.

One thing is certain—if magic fades completely, the Aetherborn will fall.

The Thalassari & Sirens – The Dying Tides
The merfolk kingdoms beneath the Eternal Blue have seen the horrors firsthand. Sea dragons have vanished. The great leviathans sleep unnaturally deep. Entire stretches of the ocean have turned to still, lifeless voids.

The Sirens, known for their song magic, have lost their voices one by one.

Now, they send envoys to land, searching for those who will join them in the fight to restore the balance. But time is running out—if the oceans die, so does the world.

The Skarn of the Obsidian Wastes – The Last Flame
The Skarn, a race of beastkin warriors, were once feared across the land for their unmatched strength. Now, their sacred fire-wielders have lost their gifts, and the eternal volcanoes of their homeland grow cold.

The proud Skarn have vowed one thing—if they cannot save magic, they will burn Varkath to the ground to ensure no one else can wield it.

The Riftborn Cult – Harbingers of the End
There are those who do not fear the Hollow Sovereign.

There are those who listen to its whispers.

The Riftborn Cult exists in shadows, hidden among nobles, kings, and outcasts. They believe the unraveling of magic is not a curse, but a rebirth.

Their goal is simple. Break the Heart of Aether. Shatter the seal completely. Welcome the Hollow Sovereign into the world.

They move unseen. And they are already far closer than anyone realizes.

---

The Quest for the Heart of Aether

In the midst of war, a small band of outcasts, warriors, and magic-bearers have been tasked with one final mission.

Steal the Heart of Aether from Varkath.
Uncover the secrets of the first seal.
Stop the Riftborn before they shatter reality.

It will take more than strength. It will take cunning, sacrifice, and the will to fight against forces beyond comprehension.

Because this is not just a battle for magic.

This is a battle for the fate of Veyndralis itself.

---

The Final Question
"When the last spell fades, when the skies fracture and the seas turn to dust… what will you become?"

 

[DreamRider1]

The Gaelvari – The Wandering Forge​

“If magic is failing, we will build something stronger.” – Gaelvari Proverb

The Gaelvari are a nomadic people of tinkerers, runesmiths, and artificers, known for their unmatched craftsmanship and their ability to blend magic with technology. Unlike the Aetherborn, elves, or other magic-wielding races who rely on innate power, the Gaelvari have always believed in forging their own fate—literally.

When magic first began to fade from Veyndralis, most scholars panicked. The Gaelvari? They adapted.

What is lost can be remade. What is broken can be reforged. These are the tenets of Gaelvari survival. And if the world itself is crumbling, they will find a way to hold it together. Even if it means defying the gods themselves.

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🏛 Culture & Society

The Gaelvari have no fixed cities or kingdoms. They are a wandering people, traveling in massive caravans known as The Iron Fleet, great moving cities of clockwork constructs, enchanted wheels, and steam-powered fortresses that drift across the land like living machines.

While some of their foundries and workshops remain in established trade hubs, the majority of Gaelvari prefer movement. To be still is to stagnate. To stagnate is to die.

• Guild-Based Society – Every Gaelvari belongs to a guild, and each guild has its own specialty:
- The Runebinders craft magical seals and wards, inscribing ancient power into metal and stone.
- The Artificers create constructs, prosthetic limbs, and weapons infused with the last remnants of magic.
- The Stormcallers study the blending of magic and machinery, creating lightning-powered engines and automatons.
- The Fleshforgers (viewed as controversial) study biomancy and alchemy, crafting golems and artificial life.

• Trade & Innovation – The Gaelvari are known as the best merchants, blacksmiths, and engineers in Veyndralis. They deal in relic restoration, enchanted weaponry, and alchemical wonders—for the right price.

• The Creed of the Unbound – Unlike many races who see magic as a gift, the Gaelvari believe that power must be earned. They teach that gods, fate, and prophecy are chains—the true strength of a person is their ability to reshape destiny.

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The Gaelvari & The Death of Magic

For centuries, the Gaelvari have used magic as a tool rather than a birthright—crafting automated constructs, prosthetic limbs powered by Aether, and war machines capable of wielding elemental energy.

But with the Hollow Sovereign’s corruption spreading, even their greatest devices have begun to fail. The once-brilliant Aether engines sputter and die. Runes carved into ancient armor flicker and vanish.

The very foundation of Gaelvari existence is crumbling beneath them.

Some among them seek the Heart of Aether, believing it can reignite their forges and restore the magic they rely upon. Others whisper that it is time to abandon magic entirely and turn fully to industry and alchemy—a dangerous path that could reshape the world forever.

And some… some believe in darker things.

If magic is dying, they reason, then why not forge something new in its place? Something that does not fade. Something neither mortal nor divine.

There are rumors of forbidden experiments, of attempts to craft artificial souls, of machines designed to replace magic itself.

If the Gaelvari succeed in their work, they will become the first beings in history to wield power beyond magic.

And if they fail?

They may be the last race to burn when the world collapses.

---

The Gaelvari & The Relic Seekers

The Gaelvari’s relationship with the factions of Veyndralis is complicated. They trade with everyone, sell weapons to both kings and rebels, and owe allegiance to no throne.

• The Aetherborn see them as reckless, tampering with forces beyond their control.
• The Empire of Varkath wants to claim them, seeing their technology as the key to a world ruled without magic.
• The Riftborn Cult fears them, knowing that the Gaelvari seek to forge a future where the Hollow Sovereign holds no power.

Now, as the Heart of Aether is sought by warriors, mages, and rulers, the Gaelvari stand at a crossroads.

Will they join the quest to restore magic?
Will they stand aside and watch the world fall apart?
Or will they forge something entirely new—a future where neither gods nor magic hold dominion over fate?

Because one thing is certain—when the final battle comes, the Gaelvari will not be caught unprepared.

They will shape their own destiny.

Or die trying.

 

[DreamRider1]

The Heart of Aether – The Last Relic of Creation​

The Heart of Aether is no ordinary artifact. It is a fragment of pure, living magic, a crystallized remnant of the force that once shaped the world. It does not simply glow—it pulses, as though it has a heartbeat of its own.

It is said that standing near it is like standing in the presence of something both ancient and alive, something that sees, that knows. Some say it whispers. Others say it sings, a sound just at the edge of hearing, like an old language long forgotten.

---

Appearance
• Shape: The Heart of Aether is irregular, shifting, never quite the same when viewed from different angles. At times, it appears faceted like a gemstone, at others, fluid like molten glass.
• Size: Roughly the size of a human heart, but with no fixed dimensions—it seems to expand and contract subtly, breathing.
• Color: A deep violet at its core, swirling with threads of gold, silver, and azure. The colors move like an endless storm trapped within crystal, shifting in response to its surroundings.
• Surface: Neither warm nor cold. When touched, it feels like solid light, smooth yet unfixed, as if it were made of both matter and energy at once.
• Light Emission: The relic does not just shine—it casts no shadow, warping the light around it, making it seem as if the world bends in its presence.

---

Its Aura & Presence
• Gravity Distortion: When standing close, one might feel lighter, unanchored, as if gravity itself hesitates in the relic’s presence.
• Sound & Vibration: The air around it hums with an unearthly resonance, like a song without words, felt more in the bones than the ears.
• Effect on Magic-Users: Those attuned to magic feel both drawn to it and repelled—as if touching it would either grant them infinite power or unmake them entirely.
• Effect on Non-Magic Beings: Those without magic describe a sensation of weightlessness, of being observed, as though the relic itself is searching for something.

---

The Hidden Danger

The Heart of Aether is not stable.

The threads of magic within it strain against their containment. Some scholars fear that it is not just a relic—it is a piece of something larger, something once whole, now fractured.

To wield it is to hold the last spark of a dying sun.

To break it?

No one knows.

But there are whispers that it is not simply a key to sealing the Hollow Sovereign.

It may also be a doorway.

And if the wrong hands claim it, the last remnants of magic may not be saved at all.

They may be consumed.

 

[DreamRider1]

Species Lifespan Chart​

Species	Childhood (0-10%)	Adolescence (10-25%)	Young Adult (25-50%)	Mature Adult (50-80%)	Elder (80-100%)	Max Age
Humans	0 - 12 yrs	13 - 25 yrs	26 - 50 yrs	51 - 80 yrs	81 - 100 yrs	100 yrs
Elves (Eldrin, Duskforged)	0 - 30 yrs	31 - 125 yrs	126 - 300 yrs	301 - 600 yrs	601 - 800 yrs	800 yrs
Aetherborn (Fae with Wings)	0 - 50 yrs	51 - 150 yrs	151 - 400 yrs	401 - 700 yrs	701 - 1,000 yrs	1,000 yrs
Merfolk (Thalassari & Sirens)	0 - 20 yrs	21 - 100 yrs	101 - 250 yrs	251 - 500 yrs	501 - 700 yrs	700 yrs
Skarn (Beastkin)	0 - 8 yrs	9 - 25 yrs	26 - 60 yrs	61 - 90 yrs	91 - 120 yrs	120 yrs
Gaelvari (Runesmiths & Magic Tinkerers)	0 - 15 yrs	16 - 50 yrs	51 - 150 yrs	151 - 300 yrs	301 - 400 yrs	400 yrs

 

[DreamRider1]

The Riftborn Cult – Harbingers of the New Dawn (or So They Believe)​

“The world is broken. Magic is failing. The cycle is ending. But in the unraveling, we shall weave anew.”

The Riftborn Cult does not see itself as a faction of doom, but as the architects of a rebirth. They believe that magic is a flawed system, a temporary power that was never meant to last—and that the unraveling is not the end, but the beginning of something greater.

They are misguided.

They believe that by breaking the Heart of Aether, they will accelerate the unraveling and usher in a world without limitation, without suffering, without weakness.

They are wrong.

The Hollow Sovereign is not a god, not a creator, not a force of renewal. It is entropy itself, an unraveling force that consumes without purpose, without mercy, without end.

The Riftborn believe they are guiding the world into a better future. In truth, they are accelerating its collapse.

And in their pursuit of this illusion, they are willing to lie, manipulate, sabotage, and kill.

If their vision is ever realized, there will be no rebirth.

Only silence.

---

The Misguided Philosophy of the Riftborn

The Riftborn believe they serve a greater purpose. They claim they are not destroyers, but liberators. But the reality is far darker.

Their Core Beliefs:

The First World was unbound. They claim that before the First Seal, there was a world without suffering, without mortality. This is a lie. The Hollow Sovereign’s first world was a void of endless nothingness.
The unraveling is inevitable. They claim that magic is doomed to fail, that clinging to it is pointless. In truth, magic is failing because of the Hollow Sovereign’s influence.
The Hollow Sovereign will guide them to something greater. But the Hollow Sovereign does not guide. It does not create. It devours.
The Riftborn are the weavers of the New Dawn. They claim they will reshape reality into something stronger. But reality cannot be remade once it is consumed. They are destroying the world they believe they are saving.
The Heart of Aether must be shattered. To them, the Heart is not a solution, but a shackle. They do not realize that without it, there will be nothing left to rebuild with.

They are blind to the truth—or they have gone too far to admit their mistake.

---

🏛 The Structure of the Riftborn

Unlike traditional cults, the Riftborn have no high priests, no ruling council. Their strength lies in decentralization, secrecy, and infiltration.

The Hollow-Touched – Those who have seen visions of the unraveling and survived. Many have lost part of their minds to the whispers of the Hollow Sovereign. Some believe they hear its voice. It does not speak.
The Dreamweavers – Scholars and mages who study the unraveling, believing they can control it. They cannot.
The Harbingers – Warriors and assassins who dismantle the old world through sabotage, war, and murder. They justify atrocities as necessary for the “greater good.”
The Fractured Hands – Those who have experimented on themselves, attempting to “unmake” their physical and magical limitations. Many are twisted by the void, their bodies rejecting their misguided faith.

The Riftborn will infiltrate noble courts, whisper in the ears of rulers, poison scholars with forbidden knowledge. They believe they are leading people to enlightenment.

They are leading them to oblivion.

---

Chants, Greetings, & Rituals

Unlike cults of despair, the Riftborn speak in words of renewal, of transition, of passage from one state of being to the next. But beneath their hopeful words, there is a sickness, a hunger, an inevitability.

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Greetings & Goodbyes

Greeting: “The weave weakens, the pattern shifts.”
Response: “And we shall guide its shape.”
Farewell (casual): “Walk the shifting path.”
Farewell (before a mission or sacrifice): “Step beyond, and be remade.”

But no one who steps beyond returns.

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Ritual Chants & Phrases

The Invocation of Renewal (Spoken before any major act of sabotage or destruction.)

“The world was forged in imperfection.
The gods abandoned their creation.
The First Seal chained what should never have been bound.
The Second Seal will break.
The new dawn shall rise.
And we shall shape it.”

They believe this will lead to a rebirth. It will not.

The Chant of Transformation (Spoken over those undergoing a ritual to prepare themselves for the world beyond unraveling.)

“The old flesh is weak.
The old soul is tethered.
The old power is dying.
I release myself.
I step beyond.
I am remade.”

None who “step beyond” remain unchanged. Many lose their minds. Others become something else—something wrong.

The Whisper of the Unwoven (Spoken to those who still resist change.)

“You fight for chains.
You fight for cages.
You fight for a world that will crumble beneath your hands.
Step beyond the veil, and you shall see.”

And when they step beyond, they see the truth.
But by then, it is too late.

---

The Riftborn & The Heart of Aether

Unlike those who wish to preserve the Heart of Aether or hoard its power, the Riftborn do not seek to destroy it outright.

They believe it must be reshaped, unlocked, used to accelerate the transformation of the world.

They are wrong.

Some among them whisper that the Heart of Aether is not just a relic—it is a key.

They believe it will open the way to something greater.

It will not.

The Hollow Sovereign does not create. It does not rule.

It consumes.

And when the Riftborn finally understand the truth, when the unraveling begins in full…

They will not be spared.

They will be the first to fall.

 

[DreamRider1]

The Paths to Sylvaria – Reaching the Floating Isles​

The floating isles of Sylvaria drift high above the land, suspended by currents of Aether magic that keep them aloft. For the Aetherborn, reaching their skybound cities is as effortless as breathing—their wings allow them to ascend with ease, gliding between islands with elegant precision.

For those without wings, however, reaching Sylvaria requires ingenuity, skill, or magic. The Aetherborn do not go out of their way to make their kingdom accessible, and few outsiders are permitted entry without invitation. But for those determined to reach the sky, several methods exist—each as perilous as it is awe-inspiring.

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1. Skyborne Beasts – Riding the Creatures of the Air

One of the safest and most efficient ways to reach Sylvaria is by taming or bargaining with the sky’s great creatures. Several species have long served as aerial mounts, either through trained riders or through natural bonds between beast and traveler.

Griffins – The most common aerial mounts, revered for their speed and loyalty. They are favored by merchants and noble emissaries who seek passage to Sylvaria.
Wyverns – Though more temperamental than griffins, they possess incredible agility and are favored by mercenaries and warriors making the climb.
Sky Serpents – Elongated, ribbon-like creatures that ride the Aether winds, difficult to tame but able to weave between even the narrowest floating islands.
Pegasi & Winged Unicorns – Rare, but the few who possess them can soar to Sylvaria effortlessly. Their presence is often seen as a sign of destiny or divine favor.

While these creatures offer aerial transport, they must still navigate the shifting magic of Sylvaria’s sky, where currents are unpredictable, and illusions often mislead those who do not know the way.

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2. The Aether Winds – Catching the Sky’s Breath

Sylvaria is surrounded by powerful updrafts of Aether-infused wind, remnants of the magic that keeps the islands afloat. Skilled adventurers, traders, and warriors have learned to harness these currents to ascend without wings.

Methods include:

Aether Gliders – Specially enchanted wing-like constructs, allowing those skilled enough to ride the wind currents upward. These are rare and require expert precision, as a single mistake can send a traveler plummeting back to the earth.
Windcallers – Some elemental mages can manipulate air currents, granting themselves or others the ability to rise with the winds. However, controlling the unpredictable Sylvarian updrafts is a dangerous feat.
The Skyward Leap – Natural Aether currents form invisible bridges at certain times of day, allowing those attuned to magic to “step” into the air as if climbing an unseen staircase. This method is unreliable, appearing only when magic is at its strongest.

Those who attempt to ride the winds unprepared often find themselves at the mercy of Sylvaria’s shifting gravity—one wrong step, and they are lost to the skies forever.

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3. The Skyvines – Climbing the Roots of the Heavens

Not all of Sylvaria’s floating isles remain untouched by the land below. Ancient, enchanted vines grow from certain islands, twisting down toward the earth, offering a path for those willing to climb their way to the heavens.

These vines are massive, thick as trees, their surfaces riddled with natural handholds and glowing veins of Aether energy. Some even possess floating platforms—large, sturdy leaves strong enough to support a person’s weight, acting as natural resting points.

However, the climb is not without danger:

The vines shift and sway in the wind, making the ascent treacherous.
Sylvarian wildlife nests within them—creatures such as Aether Wyrms and Sky Harpies attack those foolish enough to climb without caution.
The climb can take hours or even days, depending on the height of the island in question. Those who lose their grip plummet into the mist below.

Despite the risks, the Skyvines are favored by adventurers, monks, and seekers of knowledge, as they offer a path that does not require flight or magic—only determination and strength.

 

[DreamRider1]

The Rise of Emperor Aldric Vaelor – The Poisoned Throne​

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“A kingdom is not built by mercy. It is built by those ruthless enough to take it.” – Emperor Aldric Vaelor

The Empire of Varkath is a kingdom forged in iron, conquest, and blood—but no betrayal in its history is as insidious, as cruel, as the one that placed Emperor Aldric Vaelor upon the throne.

His father, King Darius Vaelor, was once a warrior-king, beloved by his people but too bound by honor, too slow to evolve in a world that was already turning against magic. Darius was a man of tradition, a ruler who still believed in diplomacy, in balance between magic and steel, in allowing Varkath’s scholars to study Aether without seizing it for war.

Aldric had no such sentimentality.

Even as a boy, he understood power in a way his father never could. Where Darius sought unity, Aldric saw only weakness. Where his father tried to preserve the old ways, Aldric knew they were dying. And if something was dying, then the only logical course of action was to cut away the rot and take what remained for himself.

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The Poisoned Throne

The coup did not happen in a single night. It was a slow, methodical unraveling.

Aldric did not raise a sword against his father. He did not need to. He used something far more insidious.

A rare toxin, crafted in secret by Varkath’s alchemists, administered in small, nearly undetectable doses over months. It did not kill King Darius. No—Aldric ensured that his father would suffer a fate far worse than death.

The poison paralyzed him completely, locking his body into stillness. His limbs would not respond. His throat would not form words. His lungs still took in air, his heart still beat, his mind still worked—but he was trapped inside himself.

And Aldric, ever the devoted son, never left his side.

He sat beside the fallen king as Varkath’s council declared him too weak to rule. He took the crown with solemn grace, placing it upon his own head while his father—still king in name, but now a prisoner in his own flesh—could do nothing but watch.

They say that the first night of Aldric’s coronation, he whispered to his father, knowing full well that he could hear every word.

“You were too weak to hold it. So I took it. And now, you will watch as I build an empire that does not bow to magic. You will see how I succeed where you failed. And you will live long enough to regret ever standing in my way.”​

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The Reign of the Usurper

Aldric did not hide his father away.

No, that would be a kindness.

Instead, he kept him in the royal chambers, seated in a grand throne within the Emperor’s private hall, his body wrapped in the finest silks, adorned as though he were still a ruler.

Every war council, every declaration, every brutal execution carried out in the name of the empire—King Darius saw it all.

The emperor ensured his father remained well cared for. His skin was kept clean, his body maintained, his health preserved with the finest alchemy—because Aldric wanted him to linger.

There were no visitors. No final words of comfort.

Only silence.

Only the weight of everything Aldric had built, everything his father could never stop.

Some say Darius’ golden eyes still burn with rage, with hatred, with sorrow. Some say that on the nights when Aldric stands alone before him, his lips curl into the faintest ghost of a smirk—one last act of defiance, a reminder that Aldric’s victory will never be absolute.

The emperor does not speak of it. He does not need to.

Because in the end, he won.

And the greatest punishment he could give his father was ensuring he lived long enough to see it.

---

The Empire Under Aldric Vaelor

Aldric’s rule is one of ruthless efficiency.

• Magic is controlled, not revered. The Empire does not ban it outright, but it is hoarded, studied, and turned into a tool of war. The Heart of Aether is his ultimate prize.
• Varkath has expanded aggressively, absorbing smaller kingdoms, seizing magical artifacts, and building a military force that rivals any in Veyndralis.
• His enemies do not get second chances. Those who oppose him disappear. Those who fail him are removed. And those who think to rebel are made an example of in ways that ensure they are never forgotten.​

He is not a man who clings to the past.

He is a man who ensures the past has no power over him.

And as long as his father still breathes, still sees, still endures the torment of his own failure—Aldric Vaelor will remain the undisputed ruler of the empire.

 

[DreamRider1]

👁 The Hollow Sovereign – The Endless Unmaking

“Before magic, before time, before light—there was only the Hollow.”​

The Hollow Sovereign is not a god. It does not rule. It does not command. It does not hunger, for hunger implies desire, and the Hollow Sovereign desires nothing.

It is the first silence, the unraveling, the force that erases without creation, without intent. It is the unmaking of things that were never meant to be.

And the first mistake was the act of making itself.

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The Origins of the Hollow Sovereign

Before the world as it is known today, before magic surged through the veins of the land, there was only the Hollow—an existence of pure stillness, neither dark nor light, neither matter nor void. There was no death, because there was no life. No suffering, because nothing had yet been made to suffer.

Then came the First Spark, the First Breath of Aether. No one knows where it came from, whether it was the act of gods or a mistake of the universe itself—but it was the first thing that ever was.

And the Hollow Sovereign felt it.

Magic disrupted the stillness. It fractured what had once been whole, shaping the formless into form, carving the infinite into something finite, something flawed. The world was born—and in its birth, the Hollow Sovereign was woken.

It did not lash out in rage, for it has no emotion. It did not destroy out of hatred, for it does not hate.

It simply seeks to correct the mistake.

And so, it began unraveling.

Reality itself fought back—those who wielded magic sealed it away, binding it within the deepest reaches of the Aether, locking it behind the First Seal. But the Hollow Sovereign was not defeated. It was merely contained.

The First Seal was never meant to be permanent.

And now, as magic fades, as the last remnants of Aether weaken, the Hollow Sovereign stirs once more.

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The Nature of the Hollow Sovereign

The Hollow Sovereign is not a being in the traditional sense. It does not have a single form, for it is entropy incarnate.

• It is not a god, but it is older than gods. The divine worshiped by mortals are mere echoes of the First Spark—creatures born of magic’s creation. The Hollow Sovereign is what came before them, and what will remain after they are gone.
• It does not destroy in fire or wrath. It simply unmakes.
• To be touched by the Hollow Sovereign is not to die—it is to cease. To be forgotten by the world, as if you had never been.

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🕷 What Does It Look Like?

No one truly knows, because no one who has seen it has remained to describe it.

The Hollow Sovereign exists at the edge of perception, an entity that cannot be fully grasped. Those who gaze upon it see a shifting mass of void and fractures, as though reality itself is breaking in its presence.

Common descriptions include:
• An ever-changing silhouette—sometimes humanoid, sometimes monstrous, sometimes an abyss that stretches in all directions.
• A jagged mask of void with a single unblinking eye—a gaze that sees through all illusion, all lies.
• Fractures in space itself—as if the Hollow Sovereign is not truly here, but simply bleeding through the seams of reality.

It is said that wherever it lingers, the world begins to unravel. The air distorts, colors bleed into nothing, sound fades into silence.

And those who stand too close begin to forget themselves.

---

The Hollow Sovereign & The Heart of Aether

The Heart of Aether is the last remaining fragment of the First Spark, the final seal keeping the Hollow Sovereign from fully returning.

The Riftborn Cult believes that breaking the seal will usher in a new world—but they are wrong.

The Hollow Sovereign does not bring rebirth. It does not create.

It does not replace what it unmakes.

If the Heart of Aether is shattered, there will be no world left to remake. No new cycle. No new dawn.

Only silence.

Only nothing.

And the Hollow Sovereign will be whole again.

 

[DreamRider1]

The Floating Isles of Sylvaria – The Fading Jewel of the Skies

“We were never meant to touch the earth. Our place has always been above, where the winds whisper and the stars bow before us. And yet… the sky dims, the currents weaken, and our wings falter. We must reclaim what was lost, or risk falling forever.”​

The Floating Isles of Sylvaria are a breathtaking expanse of suspended landmasses drifting high above the world, suspended by Aether Streams—magical currents that weave unseen through the sky, supporting the weight of their ancient cities. The home of the Aetherborn, winged fae-like beings who have ruled from the skies for millennia, Sylvaria has long been a beacon of magic, wisdom, and celestial grandeur.

But magic is fading.

Where once the skies shimmered with golden light and the Aetherborn soared effortlessly through the heavens, the floating isles now tremble. Entire landmasses grow unstable, Aether streams flicker and break, and the once-proud race that ruled the skies is now watching their kingdom drift toward ruin.

Their only hope? The Heart of Aether.

If the relic cannot be recovered, Sylvaria will fall. And when it does, it will not rise again.

---

The Floating Isles – Aetherborn Cities Among the Stars​

The Floating Isles of Sylvaria are not a single landmass, but an intricate web of suspended islands, each serving a distinct purpose. Some are great cities, glowing with celestial spires and delicate bridges of light. Others are mere fragments of rock and sky-gardens, drifting aimlessly as the magic that once anchored them slowly unravels.

The most notable of these isles include:

Spoiler: 🏛️ 1. Zephryss, The Celestial Throne (Capital City of the Aetherborn)

• The grandest of all the floating isles, Zephryss is a masterpiece of ethereal architecture. Spires of silver and moonstone rise high, their foundations laced with veins of glowing Aether, and bridges of pure light connect the towers, vanishing and reappearing with the shifting currents.
• The Celestial Chamber lies at its heart—a vast hall where the ruling council of the Aetherborn convenes, debating the fate of their people. It is here that the decision was made to send a party to retrieve the Heart of Aether.
• Once a sanctuary of boundless magic, now a kingdom in decline. The great towers flicker, once-floating platforms drift lower, and the Aetherborn nobles whisper in fear—how much longer can Zephryss remain aloft?

Spoiler: 🔮 2. Astralis, The Arcane Veil (Seat of Magical Study & Aether Manipulation)

• The floating academy of the Aetherborn, Astralis is an island shrouded in veils of ever-shifting magic. It is home to scholars, enchanters, and the most powerful Aetherborn mages, who once wove spells as effortlessly as breathing.
• Now, their magic flickers and fails. Spells that once took moments now take hours, if they work at all. The Aetherborn scholars grow desperate, seeking any way to restore the power they once commanded. Some have even turned to forbidden knowledge, though they would never admit it.
• The Astral Archives hold records of Sylvaria’s history—including fragments of prophecy regarding the Hollow Sovereign. But whether these are truths or myths is something even the scholars do not fully understand.

Spoiler: 🌿 3. Sylvadel, The Sky Gardens (The Last Living Sanctuary of Aether Flora & Fauna)

• A once-lush paradise of floating gardens, Sylvadel is now withering. The plants that once bloomed with Aether’s touch are fading, the once-thriving creatures of the sky—pegasi, sky serpents, luminous butterflies—are dying.
• The Aetherborn rely on the gardens for sustenance, growing rare celestial fruits and herbs that no longer thrive in the world below. But as magic dwindles, the gardens are becoming barren, and hunger has begun to set in.
• Some whisper that the fall of Sylvadel will mark the true death of Sylvaria. When the gardens can no longer sustain them, what remains of their civilization will crumble.

Spoiler: ⛓️ 4. The Ruins of Vael’Thalas – The First Fallen Isle (A Warning of What is to Come)

• Once a stronghold of warriors and scholars, Vael’Thalas was the first of the floating isles to collapse, falling from the sky when its Aether anchors shattered.
• What became of it? No one knows. It is said that the remnants of its ruins now lie deep in the earth, buried beneath the dust of forgotten ages.
• Many Aetherborn fear they will share its fate. If the Heart of Aether is not found, all of Sylvaria may follow Vael’Thalas into oblivion.

---

The Aetherborn – The Sky’s Noble Descendants​

The Aetherborn are a race of winged fae-like beings, luminous and graceful, their forms woven with magic as much as flesh. Their wings, once radiant and feathered with the light of the stars, are now growing dim.

Society & Structure
• Aetherborn Nobility: The ruling elite, descendants of the first Aetherborn who bound the isles to the sky. Their magic is strongest, but also fading the fastest.
• Skyward Scholars: Seekers of lost knowledge, desperate to understand what is happening to their people. Some turn to logic, others to faith. A few whisper that the Hollow Sovereign must be acknowledged, not feared.
• The Wingless & The Lowborn: Among the Aetherborn, there exists a clear divide—those who embody the full brilliance of their celestial lineage and those whose light flickers dimly. The Lowborn are Aetherborn whose wings lack the vibrant hues and ethereal shimmer of their noble kin. Their connection to magic is weaker, their presence seen as a quiet reminder that Sylvaria’s radiance is fading. Though not outright cast out, they are often relegated to menial roles, overlooked in favor of those whose power shines brighter. Few among them rise to prominence, and even fewer are granted places of true influence.

And then, there is the Wingless.

There has only ever been one—Aila Wranven, born without the wings that define her people. Among the Aetherborn, she is seen not merely as lesser, but as a living omen, a sign of Sylvaria’s decline. Where the Lowborn are pitied or dismissed, she is feared.

Neither the Lowborn nor the Wingless are welcome in noble circles, and many seek purpose beyond Sylvaria, in places where their diminished light does not mark them as cursed.

---

The Fading Magic – The Aether Crisis​

Magic is the foundation of Sylvaria. Without it, the Floating Isles will fall.

The signs of decline are undeniable:
• Bridges of light flicker, vanishing unpredictably.
• Aetherborn struggle to maintain flight, their wings tiring faster than ever before.
• The floating islands are drifting lower, some crumbling at the edges, breaking apart.

The ruling council debates endlessly—do they seek to restore magic, or do they prepare for the inevitable fall?

---

The Hollow Sovereign’s Shadow​

Not all Aetherborn believe the Heart of Aether is the solution. Some scholars fear the truth—what if the Heart is not meant to be wielded, but left untouched? What if the unraveling is not something to be stopped, but something to be accepted?

There are whispers of a forbidden prophecy, hidden deep within the archives of Astralis:

“The sky does not fall in a single night, nor does magic die in a single breath. The unraveling is not a thief, but a reckoning. And when the last light of Aether dims, the Sovereign shall return to claim what was never ours to keep.”​

Sylvaria stands on the edge of fate.

If the relic seekers fail, they will not merely lose their magic.

They will lose their sky.

 

[DreamRider1]

The Verdant Wilds – The Eternal Kingdom of the Eldrin

“The land remembers. It speaks in the rustling leaves, in the whispering rivers, in the roots that stretch deeper than time itself. We are its stewards, its voice. And we will not let those who would wield destruction take what should never have been found.”​

Deep in the heart of the world, untouched by war and the greed of kings, lies the Verdant Wilds—an ancient, unspoiled rainforest kingdom where the Eldrin, the elves of the deepwood, live in harmony with the land. Their cities are not carved from stone or raised in defiance of nature, but grown from the trees, woven into the very fabric of the wild itself.

The Verdant Wilds are vast, untamed, and sacred. The trees tower so high that they pierce the mist of the heavens, their roots twisting deep into the veins of the earth. Rivers and waterfalls carve hidden paths through emerald canopies, and bioluminescent flora glow softly in the twilight beneath the ancient branches.

Here, the Eldrin have thrived for millennia, not as rulers, but as caretakers. They do not seek dominion, nor do they crave expansion. Instead, they listen—to the whispers of the trees, to the breath of the rivers, to the heartbeat of the land itself.

And now, that heartbeat trembles.

They have heard the warnings carried on the wind. The Heart of Aether stirs once more, and the world turns its gaze toward the relic. The Aetherborn seek to reclaim their power. The Riftborn whisper of its unraveling. And the empire of men, ever hungry, ever ambitious, would wield it like a blade.

The Eldrin stand against them all.

For they know a truth that others have long since forgotten—

Some power is not meant to be held.

---

The Kingdom of the Eldrin – Cities of the Living Forest​

Unlike the stone fortresses of men or the floating spires of the Aetherborn, the Eldrin do not build their cities—they grow them.

Every structure, every walkway, every dwelling is a living part of the Verdant Wilds. Trees hundreds of years old serve as homes, their branches woven into elegant archways and spiraling bridges. Vines twist together to form pathways between the canopies, illuminated by the soft glow of enchanted flora. There is no division between civilization and nature—the Eldrin are nature, and nature is them.

Among their most sacred places are:

Spoiler: 🏛️ 1. Elu’Theran, The Heartwood City (The Eldrin’s Capital & Seat of the Elder Council)

• A city of ancient trees, their trunks vast enough to house entire villages within them. Suspended bridges, glowing lanterns, and woven walkways connect the city in a labyrinth of living wood.
• At its core stands the Elder’s Grove, where the Elder Council of the Verdant Wilds convenes. Here, the oldest and wisest of the Eldrin commune with the land, listening to its will.
• Elu’Theran is the oldest known settlement of the Eldrin. Its roots are said to extend deep into the veins of the world, binding the city to the lifeblood of the earth itself.

Spoiler: 🌊 2. Lir’Mora, The River Sanctum (The Sacred Temple of the Waters)

• A temple city built along the cascading waterfalls of the Mistveil River, its structures forming elegant terraces that blend seamlessly with the rushing waters.
• The Eldrin believe that all waters are connected, and that the rivers of the Verdant Wilds carry the memories of the world. The priests of Lir’Mora can read these memories, seeing visions of past and future.
• It is here that the first warning of the Heart of Aether’s awakening was received. The rivers spoke of its stirrings, of the coming storm.

Spoiler: 🔮 3. Vaelin’Thalas, The Veil of Spirits (A Forbidden Place of Ancient Power)

• Deep within the rainforest lies a place of silence, where the trees do not whisper, where the rivers do not sing. This is Vaelin’Thalas, the sacred burial ground of the Eldrin’s greatest mages and seers.
• It is said that here, the veil between life and death is thinnest. Spirits of those long passed walk beneath its boughs, whispering warnings to those who listen.
• Few dare to enter, for some say that it was once a site of great magic, a place where the first Eldrin sealed something away—something that should never be disturbed.

---

The Eldrin – The Guardians of the Wild​

The Eldrin are elves bound to the land, attuned to its rhythms, its whispers, its will. They do not see themselves as its rulers, but as its protectors. To them, the land is not something to be claimed—it is a living entity, a force greater than any empire, any magic, any god.

Society & Structure
• The Elder Council: A gathering of the oldest and most attuned Eldrin, who interpret the will of the land and guide their people. They do not rule with laws, but with wisdom.
• The Verdant Wardens: Guardians of the wild, hunters, warriors, and rangers who ensure that balance is maintained. They do not seek war—but they will fight to protect the forest from those who would defile it.
• The Songweavers: Mystics who can hear the voices of nature—from the trees, from the rivers, from the very air itself. Some say they can even speak to spirits, or glimpse the future through the patterns of the wind.

---

The Eldrin & The Heart of Aether – The Silent War​

The Eldrin know what the world has forgotten—the Heart of Aether is not meant to be wielded.

To them, the relic is not a tool, nor a weapon. It is a force of nature, a primal entity that exists beyond mortal hands.

They fear its misuse, not because they crave its power, but because they know what happens when power is taken without understanding.

They have seen what happened when the Aetherborn tried to harness magic for themselves.

They have watched men forge weapons from the very elements that give them life.

They have heard the Hollow Sovereign’s whispers carried on the wind.

And so, they have made their choice.

The Heart of Aether must not be found.

It must remain hidden, buried where no hands may grasp it, where no mortal may claim dominion over something that should never have been created.

If the relic seekers come to the Verdant Wilds, they will not be met with welcome.

They will be met with resistance.

For the Eldrin do not fight for conquest, nor for power.

They fight for the world itself.

---

And they are wrong.

The Heart of Aether is not merely a source of power to be locked away—it is the final seal. The only thing keeping the Hollow Sovereign from fully returning. Without it, magic will not simply fade—it will collapse entirely, and the unraveling will consume all things.

The Eldrin, in their wisdom, have mistaken preservation for protection.

They believe they are saving the world.

But if the Heart remains lost, they will doom it instead.

 

[DreamRider1]

The Ebon Hollows – The Subterranean Realm of the Duskforged

“We do not fear the dark. We are shaped by it. Beneath the weight of the world, we endure, we build, we remember.”​

Deep beneath the surface world, hidden from the eyes of those who walk in the light, lies the Ebon Hollows, an immense underground labyrinth of caverns, tunnels, and forgotten ruins, illuminated only by the glow of bioluminescent fungi and the flickering veins of fading magic. It is a realm as ancient as the world itself, where stone has borne witness to wars long since buried and where echoes of lost knowledge remain hidden in the depths.

Here, beneath the weight of rock and history, live the Duskforged—a people as resilient as the mountains, as industrious as the forge, and as enigmatic as the depths they call home. Neither fully human, elf, dwarf, nor gnome, the Duskforged are a people of blended heritage, shaped by the subterranean world and its magic-infused crystals.

Once, they thrived in harmony with the Aether, drawing upon the power of enchanted stones to shape their cities, their weapons, their way of life. But now, the magic in the crystals is fading. The veins that once pulsed with radiant energy grow dim, and with them, the foundation of their civilization weakens.

Yet the greatest danger does not come from the failing magic—it comes from what they have sworn to keep buried.

For the Duskforged remember what the surface world has long since forgotten.

They know how the Hollow Sovereign was first defeated.

And they know that the seals keeping it at bay are beginning to fracture.

---

The Ebon Hollows – A Realm of Shadow and Light​

The Ebon Hollows are more than mere tunnels; they are a vast subterranean empire, stretching for miles beneath the surface, with entire cities built into cavern walls and ancient strongholds carved from the bones of the earth. Though much of their world remains in darkness, bioluminescent fungi and enchanted crystal formations bathe their halls in eerie, shimmering hues of blue, violet, and gold.

Among their greatest settlements are:

Spoiler: ⛏️ 1. Duskrim, The City of a Thousand Lanterns (The Capital & Seat of the Duskforged Council)

• The beating heart of the Ebon Hollows, Duskrim is a marvel of subterranean engineering, a sprawling city suspended within a vast cavern illuminated by floating crystal lanterns.
• Its towering structures are carved directly into the cavern walls, connected by stone bridges and pulley lifts that rise and fall through the depths.
• At its center stands the Council of the Hollow Pact, a governing body of scholars, artisans, and warriors who oversee the delicate balance of life below.
• Duskrim is also home to the Great Archive, where ancient records of the Hollow Sovereign’s first defeat remain hidden—kept secret even from their own people, for fear that knowledge of its return may invite disaster.

Spoiler: 🌌 2. Nyx’Aldir, The Crystal Necropolis (The Grave of the Aether-Touched & A Sacred Ruin)

• Once a grand temple devoted to the study of Aether, Nyx’Aldir is now a place of mourning, an eerie and crumbling monument to a forgotten age.
• The crystals here still hum with faint energy, but they are tainted, unstable—twisted by something that should never have touched them.
• It is said that the first signs of the Hollow Sovereign’s unraveling appeared here, long before magic began to fade elsewhere. The elders speak of whispers that seeped from the stone, of figures that vanished into the depths, never to return.
• No one mines from these caverns anymore. The crystals are cursed, their glow a warning rather than a gift.

Spoiler: 🏚️ 3. The Echoing Deep (The Endless Abyss & The First Sealing Ground)

• A place of unfathomable depth, where even the bravest Duskforged refuse to tread.
• The Echoing Deep is believed to be one of the original sealing sites of the Hollow Sovereign—a place where ancient magic bound its influence away from the mortal realm.
• The cavern walls are etched with warnings in forgotten tongues, but even without understanding the words, all who enter feel the presence of something waiting.
• The elders have always warned: if the seal breaks here, the world above will not realize its mistake until it is far too late.

---

The Duskforged – A People of Stone and Shadow​

The Duskforged are a unique people, neither fully one race nor the other. Some carry the sturdy build and endurance of dwarves, others the sharp features and longevity of elves, while some inherit the craftiness of gnomes or the adaptability of humans. Their society values ingenuity, tradition, and resilience, shaped by the reality of life beneath the earth.

Society & Structure
• The Hollow Pact: The governing body of the Duskforged, comprised of scholars, warriors, and master artisans. They oversee the mining of crystals, the forging of weapons, and the preservation of knowledge.
• The Crystalborn: Those with an innate connection to the fading Aether-infused crystals. They once served as mages, seers, and alchemists, but their numbers dwindle as the magic fades.
• The Veilkeepers: A secretive order sworn to guard the knowledge of the Hollow Sovereign. Few outside their ranks know the true extent of the danger buried beneath the Hollows.

---

The Duskforged & The Heart of Aether – A Forgotten Truth​

The surface world seeks the Heart of Aether, believing it to be the key to saving magic, to preserving the old ways.

But the Duskforged? They know the truth.

The Heart is not merely a relic. It is the last seal.

To claim it is to risk shattering what little remains of the Hollow Sovereign’s prison.

They have spent generations guarding the knowledge of how the first sealing was achieved—how sacrifices were made, how entire cities fell to ensure the Sovereign’s power was bound away. They do not fear the relic’s misuse for the sake of power.

They fear it because they understand what it holds back.

Some among them believe that the Heart must remain hidden. That magic’s fading is not a curse, but a necessary sacrifice to keep the Hollow Sovereign at bay.

Others, more desperate, whisper of another way. That the Heart could be used—not to break the seal, but to reinforce it, to create a prison that even entropy itself cannot unravel.

The Council is divided. The Hollow Pact debates. And time is running out.

For if the Heart is taken by the wrong hands, if it is misused, if the relic seekers do not understand its true nature…

The Ebon Hollows will be the first to fall.

And then, the unraveling will begin.

 

[DreamRider1]

The Thalassari & Sirens – The Dying Tides

“The sea was never meant to be silent. It breathes, it sings, it lives. But now, the waters still, the songs fade, and the depths grow cold. If the ocean falls into silence, the world will follow.”​

Beneath the shimmering surface of the Eternal Blue, far from the sight of those who dwell on land, the Thalassari and Sirens—the ancient merfolk kingdoms—have ruled for centuries. Their cities rise from coral spires and glowing reefs, nestled in trenches where light does not reach, in the embrace of a sea that has always known the rhythms of life.

But now, those rhythms are fading.

The Sea Guardian Dragons have vanished. The great leviathans have sunk into unnatural slumber. And worst of all, entire stretches of the ocean have become dead zones—voids where even the tides have ceased to move.

Something is unraveling the sea from within, leeching away its power.

And the Sirens, the great song-weavers of the deep, are losing their voices.

One by one, their songs have fallen to silence. Without them, the balance between land and sea tilts ever further, and the once-unstoppable tides grow still.

The Thalassari cannot wait for salvation to come to them. They must act.

They have sent envoys to the surface, reaching out to those who may yet fight alongside them. For the death of the sea is not the death of the merfolk alone. It is the death of all things.

But time is slipping through their grasp like water through open fingers. If the oceans die, the world will follow.

---

The Eternal Blue – A Dying Kingdom Beneath the Waves​

The Eternal Blue is more than an ocean—it is a world beneath a world, a vast empire that stretches beyond what any land-dweller could fathom. From the glittering reefs of the shallow waters to the endless black of the abyssal trenches, the Eternal Blue has long thrived under the rule of the Thalassari.

Now, it is unraveling.

The ocean currents that once surged with life are growing still. Coral reefs that once glowed with bioluminescent color have begun to wither. And in the deepest places, something ancient stirs—a hunger that was never meant to awaken.

Among the most critical regions of the Eternal Blue are:

Spoiler: 🏛️ 1. Thalassara, The Coral Crown (Capital City of the Thalassari Kingdoms)

• The heart of merfolk civilization, Thalassara is a city built within an immense living coral structure, its towers rising like spires from the seafloor.
• Once a place of celebration and song, it now grows quiet. The Royal Spire, where the mer-kings and queens rule, echoes with worry.
• The Tidelords, ancient oracles who have guided the Thalassari for generations, have foretold that if nothing is done, the ocean itself will one day become a grave.

Spoiler: 🌀 2. Vael’Nerai, The Sunken Temple (A Sacred Place, Now a Warning)

• A temple devoted to the lost Sea Guardian Dragons, where merfolk once communed with the great beasts of the deep. Now, it lies in ruin.
• The statues of dragons are shattered, and the waters surrounding it are unnaturally cold, as if the breath of the ocean itself has been stolen.
• The last priestesses of Vael’Nerai claim they still hear whispers in the depths—but they do not know whether they come from the Sea Guardians, or something else entirely.

Spoiler: ⚫ 3. The Abyssal Stillness (A Void in the Sea, A Place That Should Not Exist)

• A place where the water does not move, where no fish swim, where no light reaches.
• What caused it? No one knows. But the Sirens, whose magic is tied to the ocean’s very pulse, have lost their voices when they draw too near.
• It is here that the unraveling has already begun. And if it spreads, the rest of the ocean will follow.

---

The Thalassari – The Keepers of the Ocean’s Will​

The Thalassari, the merfolk of the Eternal Blue, have ruled the sea for as long as history remembers. They are diverse in form, some bearing the sleek, elegant figures of deep-sea hunters, others adorned with flowing fins and coral-like adornments.

The Thalassari do not see themselves as rulers of the ocean—but as its guardians.

They do not build with stone or metal, but with living coral, kelp, and the bones of ancient leviathans. Their magic is tied to the ocean’s pulse, flowing through their cities like the tides themselves.

Society & Structure
• The Tidelords: Oracles and seers who read the currents, interpreting the will of the ocean itself. They have seen dark omens, visions of a world without tides, a sky without rain, an ocean without life.
• The Tidewardens: Warriors and protectors of the deep, sworn to defend the sea from those who would defile it. They are the ones who now venture to land, searching for allies before it is too late.
• The Abyssborn: A mysterious sect of merfolk who have always lived in the deepest places, closer to the darkness than any others. Some say they know secrets of the Hollow Sovereign that the surface world has long since forgotten.

---

The Sirens – The Voices of the Deep, Now Falling Silent​

The Sirens have always been the heart of the Eternal Blue. Their songs do not merely carry sound—they carry power.

With their voices, they could:
• Call the tides.
• Soothe the sea beasts.
• Shatter the minds of those who threatened their home.

But now, one by one, the Sirens are falling silent.

Some can no longer summon even a whisper of magic. Others still sing, but their voices are weaker, strained. And those who venture too close to the Abyssal Stillness?

They lose their voices forever.

The oldest of the Sirens fear the truth—their power is tied to the ocean itself. If the sea is dying, so too is their magic.

---

The Thalassari, The Sirens & The Heart of Aether​

The merfolk are not fools.

They know that the world is unraveling. They know that magic is failing. And they know that the relic may be the only hope left.

They do not seek it to rule.

They do not seek it to hoard its power.

They seek it because it may be the only way to wake the last of the Sea Guardian Dragons.

The last of the great leviathans, if awakened, may restore the balance. Its presence could revive the dying currents, return life to the lifeless waters.

But if the Heart is lost…

If the relic is misused…

Then the ocean will not merely fade.

It will drown beneath the weight of silence.

And when the tides stop moving, the world will follow.

 

[DreamRider1]

The Skarn of the Obsidian Wastes – The Last Flame

“Fire is not merely destruction. It is life. It is the will to endure, to burn against the cold, to rage against the darkness. Without it, we are nothing.”​

The Skarn, a race of fearsome beastkin warriors, were once unstoppable. Their power was forged in the infernos of the Obsidian Wastes, where molten rivers carved the land, and eternal volcanoes blazed like beacons of war. They were fire-wielders, battle-forged in heat and ash, their bodies hardened by generations of survival in a land where only the strong endure.

But now, their flames flicker.

The sacred fire-wielders, the Infernal Shamans, have lost their gifts. The volcanoes that once roared with life now cool, their embers fading to cinder. And with them, the might of the Skarn weakens.

They have turned their gaze outward.

Magic is dying. The land is crumbling. And if they do not act, they will burn out, forgotten.

Their answer? Varkath.

They know the empire of men hoards power. That their crimson-cloaked warlords speak of dominion and conquest. That deep within Varkath’s keep, the key to their salvation may be hidden—the Heart of Aether.

And if they must burn the empire to the ground to reclaim it… then so be it.

---

The Obsidian Wastes – The Dying Land of Fire​

The Obsidian Wastes is a realm of blackened rock, rivers of molten fire, and towering volcanoes that have raged since the dawn of time. The land itself was once alive, breathing smoke into the sky, a land of endless flame and fury.

Now, the fire grows cold.

The once-eternal Lake of Embers has turned to cracked obsidian. The Molten Peaks, where the Infernal Shamans communed with the flame, no longer answer their calls.

The land is not merely fading—it is dying.

Among the most important places in Skarn territory are:

Spoiler: 🔥 1. Ashenhold, The Charred Fortress (The Capital of the Skarn Clans)

• A city built from volcanic stone, bone, and iron, its towers carved into the very rock of the Molten Peaks.
• The seat of the War Clans, where the Chieftains convene to decide the fate of their people.
• Once, the forge fires here never dimmed. Now, weapons grow brittle, steel cools too quickly, and the shamans speak of omens written in the cinders.

Spoiler: 🌑 2. The Pyreheart Crater (The Last Flame of the Wastes)

• The largest volcano in the Wastes, once a sacred site where the first Skarn fire-wielders received their gifts.
• Its peak was said to burn so brightly that it could be seen from the farthest edges of the world.
• Now, the flames gutter. The heat is failing. And the Skarn know that when the last ember dies, so too will the soul of their people.

Spoiler: 🖤 3. The Blackened Maw (The Place Where Fire Devoured the World)

• A massive chasm, said to have been formed when the first Skarn god fell from the heavens and shattered the earth.
• A place of sacrifice, war, and prophecy. Warriors who have lost their path come here to throw themselves into the abyss, seeking the flame’s judgment.
• The elders whisper that something stirs within the Maw—something ancient, something hungering for the warmth it has been denied.

---

The Skarn – Warriors of Ash and Fury​

The Skarn are beastkin warriors, standing taller, broader, and stronger than most races. Their feline, lupine, or draconic features set them apart from the lesser kin of the world, their bodies honed by the unyielding nature of their homeland.

For generations, they thrived as fire-wielders, warriors, and raiders, feared for their sheer might and unmatched endurance.

Now, as their strength fades, they will not go quietly.

Society & Structure
• The War Clans: The Skarn are divided into clans, each ruled by a Chieftain, but all bow to the Elder Pyremaster, the last surviving link to their ancient fire-wielders.
• Infernal Shamans: Once the most revered members of their society, these fire-speakers communed with the volcanoes, wielding flames as easily as warriors wield swords. Now, they struggle to conjure even a spark.
• The Cinderborn: Skarn warriors marked by fire, those who survived the scorching trials of the flame. Their numbers dwindle, and some whisper that the trials may soon become meaningless.

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The Skarn & The Heart of Aether – The Final War​

The Skarn believe in survival. If the world is dying, then the strong will carve their future from the bones of the weak.

They do not care for prophecy, for balance, for the fragile peace of lesser beings. They care only for the fire that made them, and the fire that is now slipping away.

They believe that Varkath hoards what they need. That Aldric Vaelor, the usurper king, sits upon stolen magic while their own flames flicker into nothing.

They will not beg.
They will not kneel.

They will take what is theirs.

And if they must burn the empire to ash to do so?

Then the world will learn why the Skarn were once feared.

They will reclaim the Heart of Aether.

And when they do, they will either rise again in flame—

—or turn the world to cinders alongside them.