REGION 7: Primora Jungle

The Primora Jungle is the large jungle near the orcish lands. It is a place teeming with life, but not the sort of life a traveller would want to encounter. Beneath its canopy are giant ravenous ants, parasitic wasps, stalking feline predators and huge carnivorous birds reminiscent of the Kharajyr’s Gw’aka.

The jungle has never been tamed, with most ruins found on the outskirts. A few rope bridges connect the many islands but nature has long swallowed the paths in the relentless battle between the denizens of Primora for survival.

REGION 3: Thumbleweed's Tower

Poor Old Thumbleweed:

The poor “Wizard” Thumbleweed was a halfling who by virtue of his aspirations to become the most grand wizard the descendants had ever seen found himself estranged from his other halfling kin who were much more fond of feasting and froliking than the eldritch arts that Thumbleweed persued. It is said that when he became of age, the precise age that a halfling became of age being a mystery to the author, he traveled far from his home so that he might study the arcane and make a name for himself. With the small amount of gold that the poor halfling had he settled on a cliff and built himself a home. A tower, he thought, would be appropriate for a soon to be powerful wizard like he.

And so his home was made and so his studies began. Day by day and night by night the poor halfling toiled away in his tower searching desperately for a sliver of the magical realm they call “the void”. But day by day and night by night the poor halfling failed— Perhaps his dwarven blood prevented him from finding the arcane realm or perhaps not all descendants are capable of finding it. None the less, as time went on the halfling grew increasingly desperate and spent more time each day on his futile task.

It is said over many years the halfling wasted away; impoverished and dejected.

A Scrap of Paper Found in Elven Lands:

Thumbleweed the fool,

Sitting in his tower,

Passing every hour,

Searching for the sorcerer's tool,

Thumbleweed the failed,

Gazing into his book,

Looki— *The scrap has no more writing on it*

*Someone else’s writing appears below*

This, Aldereki, is the poorest work I have seen in years. Your assignment is not even complete.

— Iyathir Aereos

REGION 6: Mount Thahn

Bloody Research Notes: Mount Thahn

Day 1: Today I begin my trek to Mount Thahn, the colossal mountain in the centre of Athera. It is an intriguing target for scientific study as it is a frozen tundra, yet is surrounded by temperate to hot lands. This is a mystery I shall solve, and which will catapult me to recognition in the guild and that fool Havery will finally see me as a proper rival.

Day 3: Arrived at Mount Thahn. Was rudely thrown out of dwarven city built the upper slopes for attempting to enter the Remembrancer’s library. Apparently the dwarves take issue with having their doors broken open with axes, but they shouldn’t lock their knowledge away like that! Not from me, anyway. They can lock it away from Havery all they like.

Day 4: A little prospecting soon deduced why: the mountain stone is rich in thanhium, the heat-absorbing magical ore famously used by the Harbingers of Setherien when they invaded us in Anthos. The ore has many useful magical properties including use as a power source for enchantments. I will hire some miners at once!

Day 5: Unfortunately, setting up a thanhium mining operation could prove difficult. The dwarves have discovered and claimed the thanhium. All of it. They haven’t actually dug up but a foul smelling mountain dwarf informed me at swordpoint that it’s all theirs. Should I attempt to steal it from under their noses, they’ll likely respond by force of arms. I will search for a place where we could potentially mine the ore without them noticing.

Day 8: I discovered a cavern today. It seemed to warm as I went down, as if the thanhium were… missing. Surely there should be more of it as one goes down? It’s as if it’s already been dug up, but the dwarves live on top of the mountain, not below it. I will venture deeper tomorrow.

Day 9: I discovered a huge door at the end of the cavern. It looks dwarven, but different, like it’s centuries of architectural development ahead. Could the dwarves have developed time travel and invaded the past? I wouldn’t put it past them. That being said, stealing their time machine and claiming it as my own invention… Forget beating Havery, this could send me right to the top! I must open this door.

Day 13: No luck opening the door.

Day 17: Still no luck opening the door. This sure is an low technology door for future dwarves.

Day 20: It has occurred to me that the future dwarf theory is, to put it as the orcs would, a load of skah. The door isn’t a future door, it’s an ancient one. Have the dwarves devolved? I could believe that, they must have lost their brilliance with their height. Still no luck opening the door, but I suppose we could tunnel around it. Heard what sounded like people skulking around.

Day 21: This discovery is remarkable. I can’t write it down for fears I will lose these notes and Havery will steal my discovery. We collapsed the tunnel we dug and I will hire a full expedition to loot this place. We need to get out quietly though. The dwarves are onto us. I’ve heard they can be so quiet that they can sne

*The journal stops abruptly here.*

ANCIENT VERSE

The boarman walked on the mountain high

To the altar they built long ago

He knew in his heart twas his time to die

For the shaman said it was so

But his heart did not race in fear

He knew why he must now go

Up on the slopes of the mountain high

To the altar they built long ago

Sick he was not, nor old in age

Barely past his twenty-first year

Yet he went to the altar to gods of rage

Of flame, fury, fire and fear.

He climbed upon the icy peak

The altar lay just ahead

It was time to discard this body weak

He would die but would not be dead

He carved the circle in frozen mud

In the center a dwarven bone

He marked the ring with elven blood

Intermixed with the thanhic stone

He struck the ring with his ancient spear

And the altar lit in voidflame

The thanhium burned purple and clear

And thus over the mountains it came

Huge white teeth and huge black wings

Hellish thunder in flight

Archon of terror, devourer of kings

The dragon flew through the night

The boarman stood with spear in hand

As the mighty beast did near

He stood in thanhic ring of flame

His heart devoid of fear

The dragon swooped and in one sweep

Consumed the boarman whole

But this was not sign of boarman weak

For this battle was of the soul

The dragon writhed, its mind aflame

Two minds fought for control

The beast did falter in infinite pain

Conquered by boarman’s soul

Victorious he roared with fiery breath

His new wings took him to the sky

And then he tumbled and fell to his death

For boars know not how to fly

Mount Thahn is the great frozen mountain. Its frigid peaks stand apart from the temperate lands around it, and on its steps and ridges and beneath its surface the Dwarves of Urguan make their home.

Mount Thahn is named for the huge veins of thanhium beneath it. Thanhic ore absorbs heat, powering its many powerful yet dangerous magical properties, and any area with significant deposits of thanhium is trapped in an eternal winter in defiance of the climate around it. It is rumoured that in its deepest depths lies a Forgotten Dwarf thanhium mine similar to the cave of Khaz’Ardol in Anthos, but the Dwarves of Urguan have so far only scratched the surface of the mountain.

The Atheran mainland is mostly free of dragon roosts: they know better than to nest amongst the mortal races and most live either in secluded parts of the Uncharted (the wildlands) or out on the floating islands over the Abyss and are only seen when they fly over looking for food. At the peak of Mount Thahn is a dragon shrine and artifacts resembling those of the ancient Bohra. The historical implications of this remains unknown, but it could easily develop into a chain of events for the dwarven people.

(Moved to Mount Thahn) Forgotten Dwarf Varak City, Lago: “A Forgotten Dwarf city is built underground here. It is completely deserted but filled with fiendish traps. On the fifth and lowest level is a large chamber containing a floating, glittering red crystal, with the skeletal bodies of the city’s former residents around it. Next to it is a bookcase containing the last notes on it. (This is a new Varak, seeing as someone locked the last one up so that people couldn’t RP with it any more)”

REGION 8: Rivel

“The city state of Rivel lies on the border between Aegis and the Old Lands of Athera. Founded in the first millenium after the first sealing of Iblees, Rivel was a mageocracy where those unable or inept with magic were an underclass that served the whims of the scholary yet brutal elite known as the Spellcrafters. The Spellcrafters were mostly elven and the underclass of Rivel were mostly human with a few orcs who were treated as little more than pack animals. Rivel was hostile to outsiders, fearing a loss of control over its non-magical underclass if the “propaganda” of the nonmagical civilisations of Aegis was allowed to reach it. It engaged in a minimum of trade with the Aegisians and very few even knew it existed, although a few Aegeans did wander into the Atheran lands. When the Undead War broke out in Aegis in the early 1300s Rivel cut off all contact with the outside world in the hope that they were remote enough to avoid Iblees’s notice in time for them to find a way to defeat him.

In 1325 the Spellcrafters were approached by Garzardiel, who offered them a way to defeat Iblees: an ancient dwarven device known as The Seal. Garzardiel let them to the Grand Archive of the Forgotten Dwarves under the mountain known to the Spellcrafters as Mount  Thahn. The archive confirmed the existence of the Seal, but failed to specify if it was even completed. The relevant books from the Archive were pillaged and taken to Rivel.

The idea that the machine could possibly work was ludicrous to the Circle of Governance, led by Spellcrafter Archon Artorias dismissing it as rambling fiction and a waste of resources they should be spending researching a way to defeat Iblees before the Undead were at their gates. However, those Spellcrafters that had begun to draw on Garzardiel’s aengudaemonic power also found their wills had been bent to Garzardiel’s desires, and their studies of the Archive’s tomes led them to the location of the Hall. The records of their studies and the Hall’s location are still in Rivel to this day.

When they found it they discovered it was sealed by the ancient rune magics of the Forgotten Dwarves. Under a manifested Garzardiel’s direction they sought out the keys within a year had the Hall open. Within they discovered a dormant army of soul harvesting constructs (the ones that were possessed and wiped out the last of the Hall’s Forgotten Dwarves) and The Seal itself. Garzadiel deduced that even a thousand  mortal souls could not trap an archdaemon in the pocket dimension the Seal designed. To hold an archdaemon, he needed an archaengul.

The Spellcrafters of Rivel that had assisted him were a loose end: the Seal had to return to the state of being completely unknown for his plan to work. By now Garzardiel had complete mental control over the Spellcrafters that followed him. He activated the soul harvesting Construct Army to march on and wipe out Rivel while the minions he had bent to his will were used to reseal the city and distribute the keys amongst the land once more.

When the construct horde smashed through the gates of Rivel, the Circle of Governance was helpless to intervene. The underclass was almost entirely wiped out before the Spellcrafters defeated the ancient army. They spread propaganda about this being an attack by nefarious dwarves that they had routed to calm the surviving populace and prevent an uprising.

When Aegis finally crumbed Rivel was destroyed along with it. The wards of the Spellcrafters protected the city from becoming a blasted husk like the Shards but it was cut off from the world. Realising they would starve and die the Circle of Governance sacrificed the few surviving, traumatised members of the underclass and resorted to lichdom. They remain in the city to this day.

The Spellcrafters that had become minions of Garzardiel remain so and have been his mad cultist minions for about two hundred years. When the Aegis survivors aboard the Perea settled Deus Proditor it was these minions that Garzadiel used to annihilate the populace.”

Further Reading

REGION 17: Urguan's Hall

The ancient city referred to nowadays as Urguan’s Hall was the capital of the prehistoric dwarves (known to scholars as the Forgotten Dwarves) and the centre of their civilisation. During the Iblees War, the dwarves experienced a schism. The dwarf known as Urguan led a faction of dwarves to join up with the other races. The larger body of dwarves were distrustful of the other races and prideful on their own abilities. They sought their own solution to Iblees’ invasion of Athera. They united their best runesmiths and technomancers and over ten years built their masterwork with which to defeat the Fallen One.

The huge device is known as The Seal, a room-sized machine capable of creating a pocket dimension.

The machine has four parts. Two colossal engines called Planeforges generate the pocket dimension. In the centre of the room is a huge horizontal gateway into the pocket dimension. On the far size is an enormous spherical disc known as the Ethereal Magnet. With enough power, it can draw any aengudaemon that corporealises in the city into the machine’s maw. In the corners of the room are massive arcane towers known as Soul Capacitors. They are aptly named, for the power draw of this machine is so great it requires living souls. Many, many living souls.

The Forgotten Dwarves tested this machine extensively. The power draw to create another world is colossal, and a huge number of dwarves had to be killed and their souls harvested to power it. In the first stage, only criminals were used, but soon the dwarves were slaughtering their own people en masse. A civil war broke out as the population resisted, but the death only provided more fuel for the machine.

The architects of the Seal tested it extensively. Firstly they used one of their own people. The test proved the machine worked, but as the pocket dimension was empty of everything it proved fatal to the dwarf they tested it on too. Later, they managed to deceive a minor aengudaemon and test the machine on it too. The wrathful entity broke free: the machine was not strong enough to hold it. The few Forgotten Dwarves left realised that more power was needed, more souls, and began to plan to raid the surface to bring back more sacrifices. They began building an army of golem constructs. However, the Seal machine was damaged during the aengudaemon’s escape. Vengeful souls managed to manifest as spectral creatures, possessing the dead, the golem constructs and some of the machinery. The surviving dwarves, consisting of the machine architects, the lords and king and the few surviving military were too few to fight them and were killed. The spectral manifestations of the sacrificed dwarves decided that the Seal could not be allowed to consume more souls. While they could influence the world, they did not possess the power to destroy the machine. Instead, they sealed the city and took the five keys to the Hall of the Ancients to the far corners of the world so that the city could never be opened again.
 

Later, Garzardiel would deceive Aeriel and trap her in the soul capacitors. An archaengul provided more than enough power to operate the machine. Garzardiel then used the Ethereal Magnet to capture Iblees in one last battle and sealed him into the pocket dimension, where he could not interact with the outside world at all. Aeriel soon realised Garzardiel’s gambit: while Aeriel could easily escape the soul capacitors, doing so would break them, freeing both Iblees and a countless bodiless dwarven souls which Iblees would then consume and reach his full power once more. She either had to stay and be the force holding Iblees out of the world, or unleash him wielding untold power (and that’s relative to archdaemon power).

So Aeriel stayed, slowly reaching out to the Ascended, hoping that her servants would find a way to free her without bringing about the doom of the world.

REGION 13: The House of the Wild Alchemist Migueleo Berankle

A simple house that appears to have been smashed apart from the inside. At least half of the building is totally destroyed. Within the intact half of the building is a Dwarven skeleton crushed into the wall along with the remains of furniture. Stuck in its shattered ribcage is a rotten-looking book that, despite its age, some pages are still readable.

On the face of the book, the name “Migueleo Brackenankle” is written with faded gold type.

[unreadable mess, obscured further by large, copper stains] -rst tests have begun well, with very little damage I can see. Sadly, it appears that the fly has become lethargic and tired. I expect it to kark it soon. Bloody quitters, these insects. Reminds me of my days in that pisshole academy. I reckon I just need to refine the process with the swamp-lilies, and then place the r--- [The page is too mottled with ancient blood to make out]

[several pages on, faded words can finally be made out.] --1276, second month of testing. Khorvad’s arse is less wretched than the stench that’s lingering from that bastard fly. Need to bury it further away. Though, at least the smell’s keeping those crows away from my pumpkins.

[upon the next page, there is an undated page in rushed writing]

Success at last! I just needed to remove the swamp-lilies entirely from the equation! Don’t even remember why I needed them in the first place...

[The writing appears to become less legible leading to the end of the sentence, but then returns to its original rushed form].

My old mate from the academy made me one of his pumpkin pies while visiting, and then I see this fat little snail just chomping away during dinner. Hadn’t tried one before for the concoction, so I tipped it on the pie for the little bugger to eat! Bastard grew to the size of a dog, and he’s still energetic! Going to brew up a fresh batch, then me and “Sluthery” are going to those limp-wristed academists and shoving it right in their fat, fu-

[there appears to be a violent, thick pen-stroke, before the rest of the page is covered in a deep coppery stain. There are no more entries.]

REGION 13: The Iron Tree

Upon one of the larger islands in the Thousand Isles, an adventurer may come across a most peculiar sight in the centre of a wooded area; a tree made entirely of iron.

It, and the surrounding area, appear to have transformed into precious resources--grass and leaves have turned to emeralds, bark to iron, and sand to gold. Unlike the other peculiar plants, the iron tree in the very centre appears to have no emerald leaves of any kind.

Upon nearing the outskirts of the tree, a player will receive the following automated message.

"You see the iron tree, and the emerald ground. This place is impossible. You feel a throb in your head as you stare at your surroundings-almost as if your mind rejects what it sees."

If a player chooses to go even closer, they will receive another message.

"The pain in your head increases as you move closer to the tree. This thing isn't natural. It's an abomination that should not be in this world."

At some point, a book will be thrown into the game-world reading the following:

Bark of Iron

[The pages seem to be written in a near-illegible scrawl]

Bark of iron, deep in the south. The rip in existance that we must embrace! It gives gifts! It gives wonderful gifts to those who serve! A blade most perfect! So perfect that it does not belong in our world!

All it takes is a few drops of blood! A few drips from your wrist, and it shall awaken! And when it does, it will look upon you with such favour! The sweetest favour! It is an impossible thing, but it is a wonderful thing! Seek it out, brothers and sisters!

Seek it seek it seek it deep in the south, for amongst the Islands of the Ankulos Peninsula, it waits for others to appreciate its luminescence!

[A second piece of writing by a different hand is scribbled below the first]

Do not trust it. The tree is evil in a way that I cannot comprehend. Take only its first gift, and then never return. 

[A third piece of writing by yet another hand is scrawled at the very bottom of the page.]

Take nothing from it! It wants only to consume! It consumes everything! It will consume you! I can't get it off me I can't get it off me I can't get it out of me

only flame will end it

BurN th TrEE

[The writing trails off to nothing.]

The Player’s Response

If a player places fire near the tree, it will appear to melt like ice with the metal puddling like water and hardening once more in its new state. The tree will show no reaction to this, and if enough fire is applied it will melt completely. However, over time it will reform to its previous tree-like state.

If a player is to give a few drops of blood to the tree, it will awaken.

/setname The Iron Tree

*sways slightly, as if in a breeze. The air, however, is completely still. Your throbbing headache begins to pound, but you cannot look away.

*exudes a metallic sigh, and loud screeches of iron scraping against iron emanate from the trunk.

[!] The noise reaches a crescendo, and a hairline fracture upon the trunk begins to tear open into a horrible, cragged maw.

[!] The tree inhales slowly, and the branches shudder and knock together, creating a horrifying cacophony of shrill metallic sounds.

*'s maw begins to settle, and slowly stretches into what can only be identified as a smile.

"My salutations."

[!] Its voice is that of innumerable people whispering in perfect unison. Thinking on how it moves its mouth in that fashion makes your head pound further.

*takes a moment to inhale again. Speaking apparently being greatly difficult for it.

"I am pleased you have taken the time to nourish my roots. Those who serve me in such a way are rewarded."

[!] With accompanying shrill screeches, the iron branches extend downwards slowly.

*shudders violently for a moment, before a chunk of the closest branch drops off at [player's name here]'s feet.

[!] The chunk begins to contort and liquidise upon the ground, before slowly reforming.

[!] The chunk reforms completely into slender, beautiful sword. Its metalwork appears flawless, and covered in intricate floral designs.

*inhales slowly again, and its smile grows wider still.

"Should you wish for more rewards, bring me more nourishment, my friend."

Despite what it may seem, the tree is not very intelligent, as it operates mostly on the instinct to feed. Furthermore, it cannot see, hear, or detect any creature that has no blood (E.g. Golems, liches, Dread Knights. It can detect necrotic beings, so long as they have blood in their corpse). Any conversations struck with it will be quickly driven back to the topic of nourishment, and rewards. If asked where it came from, it will answer after a short cackle.

"There are no words in your tongue to explain my existence. But how I came to be here? I first went up, but at the same time I went down. I tore a hole, and pushed my roots through."

If they ask where this hole is, the tree will reply only with "Everywhere."

If they ask why it came to this particular place, it will only answer "Less competition."

It will not elaborate on either of these answers, stating that they wouldn't understand it.

The Sword

Name: Choose from "The Rose," "The Daisy," or "The Tulip."

Type: Iron Sword

Effect: Highest unbreaking enchantment.

Description: An impossibly beautiful sword made entirely of steel, from the hilt, to the tip of the blade.

Should a player use the sword to slay a sentient creature, any blood that gets on the blade will immediately disappear, as if being absorbed. If a player kills two with the sword, the blade will grow slightly, and attach itself to the player-character's hand. It will not be removed in any way via magic or conventional means, short of getting the hand cut off.

If the player returns to the tree, it will advise them to touch the sword against the trunk, and blood will immediately flow out of the trunk and pour upon the roots of the tree. The tree will thank them for doing so, and explain that there is a great reward if the player kills six others. If the player refuses the offer, the tree will strike out with its branches, drain them of their blood, and toss the corpse away.

If the player accepts the offer, they will slowly be overtaken in both body and mind with every kill. Upon the third kill, the player-character will begin to forget their friends, family, and history. By the fourth kill, the player-character will have no recollection of anyone it knew before the tree. By the fifth kill, the player-character will become emotionless, and will not speak unless necessary. By the sixth kill, the player-character will be nothing but a mindless husk. Each time a kill is performed, the metal from the sword will grow over more of the body--twisting around them like vines. They will be compelled will return to the tree, and offer the blood they collected. The tree will then wordlessly strike out with its branches, absorb the player-character's blood, and afterwards discard the corpse. There is no way to win in this scenario.

Killing the Tree and its Thralls

Though it will melt from fire, it will reform back to its original state after a few days. It may only be killed if it has been awoken.

Fire is the only method by which it can be destroyed; any other conventional weapon will just bounce right off its iron body. Even the smallest flame can melt the tree in some capacity. Obviously this is rather painful after it has awoken, and it will do its best to kill the one doing so. Once it has been melted to a considerable extent, a large, blood-red ruby (only visible if awoken) will be visible, and can be destroyed with conventional weapons.

When such is done, the tree, and all things from it, will be sucked towards the place of the broken ruby, and disappear entirely. Thralls still with metal growths will be immediately released, and their weapon removed. There is no reward for destroying the tree, aside from the precious materials that lay around it.

The thralls can be killed conventionally, but are particularly suseptable to fire. Should any wounds be near the metal growths, the sword will suck the thrall dry of its blood, kill them, and then retract its growths before returning to its original state upon the ground.

Thrall Kill/Change Rules:

One kill: The sword will absorb any blood it comes into contact with.

Two kills: The sword will attach itself to the player-character's hand.

Three Kills: The player-character will begin to forget their family, friends, and personal history. The metal of the sword will thread itself around the whole sword-arm.

Four Kills: The player-character will recollect nothing prior to the tree, and a desire to kill two more people. The metal now snakes partially around the torso.

Five Kills: The player-character has no desire to speak, or do anything other than finding a last kill. They will not stop to eat or sleep. The iron now fully covers the torso, and winds around the neck.

Six kills: The player-character will become an emotionless, unfeeling thrall. It will feel an irresistible compulsion to return to the tree. Once there, they will place the sword against the tree, and the blood from the sword will be absorbed into the trunk. The tree will then strike out at the thrall with its branches, and absorb the player-character's blood. They will die, the tree will re-absorb the sword, and then toss away the corpse.

If a thrall is killed, the sword will return to its original flowery state. The next to pick it up will inherit the growths that apply to its current number of kills.

Disclaimer: Anything that isn't covered in here can be interpreted personally by the person playing the iron tree, so long as it fits its character.

REGION 16: Orcenge

The orcs do not built to last the centuries. They know that they could be driven from their camps any day, and their wooden huts are designed to be both built, repaired and torn down as quickly as possible. Having structures future civilisations can uncover, caked in dust, doesn’t do them any good.

The orcs of ancient times were nomadic, and next to nothing remains save for a few carvings on cave walls. Only one artifact of the ancient orcs remains, a stone henge used as a meeting ground between ancient orcish clans.

Why the henge would be built there instead of anywhere else is unclear at first, but the significance becomes clear to the explorer. The place is a proving ground: nearby lies a deep cave, filled with traps and hostile spiders. At its deepest depth lies the cave of a great mother Scaddernak, far too big to ever leave the cave and tended to by her young. This creature must be ancient, thousands of years old. It isn’t clear if the orcs worshipped this scaddernak before the time of Krug, sought to prevent its escape or used the cave as a proving ground, a trial of strength and skill to descent into the cave and recover the creature’s eggs, then escape alive.

We will soon bid farewell to the Birthplace of Urguan, sailing out across the seal to distant lands with mysteries untold. But with the departure from this strange land we inhabited for an elven year comes a new set of knowledge, before our new adventure even begins. Within this forum lies the complete compendium of lore written by the lore team for 4.0 during its build phase (with the exception of a few redacted works due to their implication in future events). This work was known as "Lore.0 4.0" as coined by Lagomorphia and until now has remained much a mystery— known only to those who learnt via the events.

Below you will find a map of our world, which you will find invaluable in working out what ruins lay where. Have fun learning about the world we have departed.

Disclaimer: Yes, there are a few inconsistencies in regards to the location of some ruins and sometimes the lore. They had to be shifted during the build phase on occasion. Also there are some pieces of lore here which will be incomplete— because to complete the lore would be to give away future surprises. However, for the most part 95% of what lies within this forum is accurate— Any queries you can bring to me via PM.

— The Lore Team of 4.0, Creators of Lore.0 4.0.

Lore.0 4.0 Team:

 

Lagomorphia

Rittsy

SupremacyOps

501Warhead

Viper

Zarsies

Mithradites

Ptahwithin

Shiftnative

REGION 13: Larihei's Ruins

As you approach a Scattered, stone ruins are intertwined with trees. These buildings were obviously not built for lengthy habitation, and are almost entirely rubble. Stone is spread around the area pell-mell, almost as if shaken apart. However, there are distinct outlines of what must have been houses. In the center of these ruins are the remains of a large, circular disk, made from obsidian and gold that has held together rather firmly despite the broken surroundings. There appear to be a number of large steel buttresses holding the structure in place--and appear much younger than the portal itself. To discover the history behind the portal, players are required to excavate the area.

There are a total of six house-outlines, all of which having basements. Three will contain useless trinkets (broken tools, rotten meat etc) but three will contain artifacts of some worth.

In basement one, there will be a rusty-looking sword covered ancient runes. It will be resting inside what once must have been an intricately-decorated case, as if only recently made and delivered. It is an iron sword with the following description/specs.

Name: Runic Thinblade

Condition: Almost broken.

Effects: Knockback 3.

Description: “An old blade covered in Dwarven runes. It is a two-handed sword, yet thinner, lighter, and longer than the conventional sort. It may have been designed for the use of tall and slender individuals.”

Within the third home, there are a number of ruined chests, save for one at the very back which appears in eerily perfect condition. On closer inspection, it is covered with a number of dwarven runes. Opening it would reveal a great number of fine dresses and robes perfectly preserved within. There is also a large emerald amulet (represented by a single emerald) at the very bottom of the chest.

(Pictures will come a bit later. Needs me a skinner)

The sixth basement contains a skeleton surrounded by old bottles, and a ruined book clutched in its boney grasp. However, some words can still be made out.

[A filthy mark covers most of the page, but some words at the bottom of the page may still be read.] “…-found the strange ring half-buried in the earth. The pale ones had me and a few others dig it up. I am glad. It gave me a chance to be around her. The others find the pale ones strange, but their beauty couldn’t have escaped all, surely?”

[Multiple pages of rotting paper]

[The page is caked with mud, but there are a few pieces of writing intact] She looks at me like I’m nothing, bu-... . .. … eyes are so beautiful, and her voice is melodic to me. Oh Father help me. I love her so. She will n- … . .ha… . of my kind. My heart is foolish. Sweet Larihei, all I wish for is y-... … .att… Is t-... much to ask?

[There are numerous other pages torn and ruined, before what appears to be the final few pages]

She had said they would be back by now, but they haven’t returned. The other s-... . … . leaving. I’m the last of the ones still here. There are still supplies… .. .i….th… other ho….. but nothing important. They wouldn’t leave me. She wouldn’t leave me. She smiled at me. Please Father, let her still be coming.

I’ll wait, regardless. I won’t leave until I need to. I still have wine. It’ll pass the…

[There are no more entries]

REGION 17: The Stoneskin

The Descendants of Urguan were a hearty people, sturdy in form and ideology. With this, of course, came those who were a tad too zealous for their own good. With a culture and lifestyle idolizing the mountains and rock, there came a group almost religious about their love and adoration for the peaks of stone that were about the lands. With this exaltation for the strong and grand, this group turned more passionate than expected; the loose collection of arcane artists within the cult gathered with the most devout and ardent to the order of Faith of the Mountain leaders with an idea that would further their works, believed to bring them to divination. They tried to make the perfect being… And after several decades of experimentation and testing, something was made.

The Faith of the Mountain produced numerous of these creations after their original birth, seen as the most true and correct embodiments of their emotions for the glorious mounds of compact perfection.

These supposed ‘supreme beings’ were far from the truth, but anyone may think what they will. In truth, these men made one of the first collaborations of the natural elements into an entity; an elemental. These beings are the true works of stone, masonry in its most primal and gruttal fashion. Morphs shaped of pebbles to boulders, these sentience lacking things were none the less exalted and glorified, called gods and avatars for their creative powers, able to format all things earthen. Although, they were correct in partial; they represented the mountains, the rocks, the unmoving and forever tough. And it was so, the Stonekin outlasted the children of Urguan. To this day they remain in the last shrine of the Faith of the Mountain, home the last trio of Stonekin, the beings forever locked away in their own tor, a crag made just for these three men of gem and subsurface grain.

REGION 17: The Word Altar of Fiandria

For years scholars have puzzled over the few remaining writings in elven of the ancient elves. In ancient times the elven tongue was almost exclusively spoken by the elves and yet over time, inexplicably to scholars, the language was to become outlawed.

Who imposed this ban or taboo on the language is unknown and it is particularly remarkable given the long lives of elves which would presumably slow the change of language tremendously. Some scholars have postulated that the words held ancient and eldritch power, yet no proof has ever come forth to prove such a notion.

In truth elven, was indeed a powerful tool for the elves— Yet only in particular circumstances. Just as the dwarves were gifted the ancient dwarven anvils by Aenguls, it is said that the elves were gifted Word Altars for the protection of the elves.

The purpose of the Word Altars were two fold: With the altar and the language of the elves a druid could commune with the entire forest at once, literally knowing the thoughts and feelings of every animal and plant within their woodland domain. The second purpose was perhaps far more dangerous, through the use of their connection to the aspects, the Word Altars and ancient elven the druids could forge, or rather in their case, grow sentient plants of size and stature which would slumber deep in the forests until a time of need.

But what of the descendants who found themselves in Aegis? Alas it is said in ancient times it was Malin who commanded the altars be sent to the North with a small contingent of elves to guard them until their death after the first great war with Iblees for he too feared their power should they have come under his control if he were to control.

Yet the altars were not to have the longevity that the dwarven anvils did have— For they would meet their demise in time. It was fear which caused the demise of the altars for in the year 1200 the leader of the elves was to hear of a great temple in the west and the wrath of a being— A story foretold by those who brought the Altars from Malin’s land. The elves, inspired by fear and the words of Malin, vowed that the great Word Altars were too powerful for those who would harm their kin to control and thus destroyed them.

There will be one broken altar locked beneath an ancient elven tree. 3 keys are required to open the area of the altar. Within will be ancient elven tomes detailing the history of the altars.

The 3 keys are found in ruins the elves across who went east constructed to make sure only their kin could access the altar.

REGION 14: The Forest of Adrallan

The Forest of Adrallan is always eerily silent. There is clearly life there, but no birdsong tweets through the trees, there is no rustle of animals and the trickle of water in the streams always seems somewhat muted. Despite the apparent tranquility, one is always slightly uncomfortable beneath its canopy.

The Forest is a dangerous place. It is a place of magic, almost like a maze. It is littered with magical disturbances that teleport people across the forest, making it incredibly easy to get lost (unmarked fast travels to help people get completely lost in there). The longer one stays in the forest, the longer one feels their memory slipping, their identity fading away. Why did I come here? Who am I? I don’t need to leave this forest, I can just stay here, sit down on this rock, and not move…

The other thing that makes the forest disturbing is the number of skeletal dead bodies laying next to rocks and fallen trees.

At the centre of the Forest is either the Elven Portal in the misc object section or a colossal tree going up to the height limit. Climbing it is a very difficult parkour challenge. Something good is at the top, but the climb is so difficult most will fall and die.

Druids seem not to be that badly affected by the mind-altering effects of the forest due to their Aspect Connection and are one of the few people who can successfully navigate it.

REGION 12: The Massacre of 1283

REGION 10: The Tomb of Ezekiel Cunningham

Ezekiel Cunningham was a remarkably wicked practitioner of dark arts, born in the 12th century. He is said to have terrorised multiple dwarven towns until he was eventually killed by the Order of Nine— A group of Paladins assembled by the Pereans of the time to remove dark creatures which terrorised the human kingdoms.

Upon a rock to the north of human lands, behind moss and vines will be an inscription on large boulder which will read “Sealed by the Order of Nine, never to be opened again”. This boulder blocks the entrance to the tomb.

Upon entering the tomb there shall be an outer room littered with 5 skeletons, each of which appears to be dressed in a similar white cloth. Within the hand of one of the skeletons shall be a torn page, clearly from a journal or historical log of sorts. It is short, clearly there is a better log of the event elsewhere.

The 5th of Snows Maiden, 1402.

We, the Order of Nine close upon the sanctuary of the heretic known as Ezekiel Cunningham. He appears to have sealed himself in an underground cave of sorts.

In a ruin closer to the capital of the humans a tome will be found, chronicling the history of the Order of Nine:

The Order of Nine was founded in the year 1243 by the Pereans to combat what was apparently an increase in the number of attacks by those who practiced Dark Magics. Although the reason for this increase is unknown it is known the Order was led by Ser Maximillion Vegasus and the High Priest Paul Rutherford.

In the year 1244 the Order began its formal duty and purged 27 suspected heretics and practitioners of Dark Magic in that one year. Their methods, while unorthodox appeared to yield results for this was the greatest number of dark practitioners purged in many years— Scholars of later years have suspected this to be the result of inaccurate detection methods.

The Order is known to have come to an abrupt end on the 9th of Snows Maiden of 1402 when they attempted to purge Ezekiel Cunningham— Known for at least 2 magical massacres in the first half of the decade of 1390. The Order is known to have sealed the Apparition which arose from the Massacre of 1283 which killed the Cleric which undertook the task. Thus the pillar was only sealed in gold and the apparition maimed and not banished proper.

Although he was eventually killed and sealed within his cavern home as a tomb, eight of the order perished within, and the ninth, he who oft created wards, spoke not of that day or the location of the tomb afterwards..

The location of the final resting place of the Missing Eight remains unknown to this day. However, it is said that the ring which gave Ezekiel power still rests there to this day. It is also rumored that he who acquires the ring and brings it to the southern elven isle on the eve of a new year will gain the power of Ezekiel.

Should a group venture past the first room and into the inner room, known as the tomb proper, four more skeletons will be visible.

Also in the room will be an apparition pillar with its golden seal broken. It will have upon it the words:

Sealed by the Order of Nine

Final note: The apparition of Ezekiel Cunningham shall be named, by those who RP it as “The Wicked Apparition”.

REGION 12: The Wreck of the Perea and the Town of Deus Proditor

After the majority of the people of Aegis had fled through the portal from the crumbling, drake-scoured realm of Aegis, the portal to the Verge and safety was sealed. Not all managed to escape.
Many survived in the ruins of Aegis, evading the savage, life-hating drakes and being turned to ash by the crossfire from the ongoing titanic, land-shattering battle of Aeriel and Iblees. After a month of living amongst the devastation, many of the survivors, most of them humans,  banded together and launched a desperate raid on the ruins of Al’khazar. Many died from the life-draining miasma that still hung over the city, but in Al’khazar’s docks was a blessing. A ship, abandoned when Al’khazar fell, remained moored in the harbour, and was somehow mostly intact and untainted. The survivors commandeered the vessel and sailed south. There, they gathered as many of those still alive in Aegis as they could and boarded the ark, dubbed the Perea, and set sail as far from Aegis as they could.

The ark sailed east through the storms of the crumbling Aegis until it struck fertile, untainted land. The crew resolved to go further still, as far from Iblees as they could. As the Perea approached, it was beset by a great sea beast, the Great Kraken of Athera (we’ll make separate lore for this mythic monster). The ensuing battle ended with the sinking of the Perea, and the great ark still lies in two parts, one balanced precariously on the top of a huge underwater trench near Region 12 and the other at the bottom, so deep underwater one could never get down there without the aid of alchemy. Who knows what treasures and lore may lie forgotten in that ship?

Many survived, clinging to bits of buoyant wood from the battle. The Great Kraken showed little interest in them, and it was not far to the fertile forested land of Region 12. The survivors, mostly human, rebuilt. First wooden huts, and then mightier stone structures reminiscent of their old home of Al’khazar. The town would survive for almost three generations, long enough for the initial human settlers who had endured so much hardship to pass on in peace.

In this time the battle of Aegis came to an end. Garzardiel betrayed Aeriel and used her as a seal to imprison Iblees in The Seal, an artifact of the Forgotten Dwarves.. Aegis was physically destroyed, leaving the Abyss.

Human scouts explored the lands and began to uncover the ruins left behind by the Forgotten Dwarves. The Forgotten Dwarves, while in many ways primitive, were not technologically unskilled, and some of their technologies are lost to us even today. The humans investigated the Forgotten Dwarves extensively. At the same time, a faction arose amongst the humans opposed to exploring the rest of the land, insisting fervently that mankind should stay on the island where they could not uncover a new threat. This agents were humans under the thrall of Garzardiel, who sought to keep the humans from ever uncovering Urguan’s Hall and accidentally re-releasing Iblees.
When it became clear that the humans were not going to back down in their exploration, and were beginning to expand beyond the island, Garzardiel took decisive action. His followers instigated a civil war, and with almost the entire human population on the island, Garzardiel struck. The city and everyone in it was annihilated and the island was reduced to a blasted, sandy ruin.

Today, nothing can be built there for the sandy dust makes it impossible ((the place is regioned)). The remains of the stone buildings destroyed in the blast and partially buried in the sand still stand, a haunting ruin of a destroyed people and a stark. Skeletons stalk the ruins ((there are spawners here)) and kill any living thing that tries to approach. A few brave adventurers venture there, either to collect coin from the undead creatures that stalk the place or to try and uncover what happened there and how the town was destroyed so utterly from the hidden vaults and libraries.

((The destroyed town serves as something of a PvE region and a dangerous site for archelogical expeditions. As the place is regioned nobody will colonise and and thus the skeleton spawners can’t be abused. The ET can easily build new sections and “uncovering” them to stage archeological events.))

REGION 9: Sluthery the Slothful and the Swirling Hill

Were a player to look inside a crooked and decrepit shack found somewhere in halfling-land, they might happen upon a small, crumbling book. Its faded colours look as if they were once colourful and vibrant, implying that it may have been for a child. A simple picture of a snail can be made out on its rotting cover. Within is terrible poetry.

On the inside cover however, there’s some handwriting in ink scribbled in barely-legible cursive.

“I remember you loving this book when you were the size of a pickle, Damni. I hope it gives you a little smile in the coming days, despite the dreadful rhyming.

Much love, your brother, Herbert.

P.S. Don’t stop making your pumpkin pies!”

Upon the next page, the book itself begins.

Far back in the days of the silliest yore,

When knights would woo ladies, and fight nothing but boar,

There was an old wizard; a white beard to his ankles,

His name were Migweed Berleuth-Perrydankles.

Old wizened Migweed were in a slump,

Whilst in his chair resting his wrinkly rump.

He were tired of all these youngin’s a-many,

Rushing about and bothering him a-plenty.

He wanted to set a good example,

For all the chil’rens against their rushful debacle.

So he scratched his chin, and thunk’d a bunch,

And decided instead he’d have some lunch.

And ‘lo, he sat down with a pumpkin pie,

And ate his fill with a serving of lye,

Then slowly it came from across the old table,

A small sloshing snail, most slow and graceful.

“Aha!” Exclaimed Migweed with a grin most cunning.

“Ye will be he to send my message a-pummeling,

Into the mind of many a young stoat!”

The snail, in reply, said nothing of note.

The snail were small, no greater than a mere finger,

But on such details Migweed weren’t one to linger.

He enchanted his magiks into his pumpkin pies,

That any who dined would grow ten times their size!

Migweed fed the snail a piece most fat,

And the snail were grown to the size of a cat!

But the snail loved the taste, and was the greedy sort,

And ate and ate ‘til he were the size of a fort!

Migweed named his fort-snail Sluthery,

And rode upon his shell through miles of shrubbery.

But at the first town, he met the sum of his fears.

He had died during the trip--it had taken ten years!

Not only were size that Sluthery did gain,

But also did grow his sluggish snail-brain.

And what did he ask the scared townsfolk within?

“Poompkim Poie!” he glubbled with a grin.

Town after town did he demand of pie,

And fatter he grew as years went by.

Until one day he felt a wee-bit woozy.

So he found a nice field, and had himself a snoozy.

But this snooze were nary a quiet little matter,

He’s yet to wake up, and not getting any fatter!

Plants and trees grew while he was so still.

His shell is bright green! He has become a hill!

So ends the tale of Sluthery the Slothful.

But, sweet reader, always be mindful;

Grow no pumpkins, those who would tempt fate,

Or you may find him sloshing towards -your- gate!

Sluthery is a hill near the edge of halfling land, and will awake if enough pumpkins are planted nearby. He is not violent, or horribly dangerous, but he is very, very slow, and very stupid. He will approach those in nearby towns (likely the halflings) to give him “poomkim poie” until he’s eaten his fill. When he’s full, he’ll go back to his original resting spot, and sleep once more.

He is about the size of a large manor, and nigh impervious to any attacking force, save for huge amounts of salt. His shell is as strong as steel, and his slime may also have miraculous healing capabilities, so it is unlikely those he slithers over will be killed, or even injured.

He knows/understands no other words outside of four-- “Sluthery wunts poomkim poie.” Talking to him will likely get an answer of those four words. His shell is mostly mossy green with trees growing from its highest points. He is recoiled inside his shell, and will not wake up for -any- other reason aside from smelling pumpkins.

REGION 9: The Order of Nine, Alderon Festivus

Aldron Festivus was a known apprentice to Ezekiel Cunningham although his power is claimed by many to have exceeded that of his master in many ways. After the massacre of 1183 Aldron is known to have disappeared for 10 years— Though precisely where he went is entirely unknown. Some speculate it was to his master’s training grounds he returned to harness the power which Ezekiel had only begun to comprehend.

On the Second of the Grand Harvest of 1194 Aldron returned to prominence where he terrorized elven and human alike— Killing far more than his master ever had. It is rumored he took upon a half-spectral form, where his soul was bound to a far more malevolent and powerful creature than he could ever have been alone which permitted him all manner of eldritch powers including the often sought ability to fly— A power which was much the envy and ire of those benevolent mages and clerics who wished to smite him.

Aldron is known to have been killed by a dwarven order dispatched to kill him early on in the 1210s. What happened to the artifact which powered him is unknown

*The pages appear to have been damaged by time, only fragments are legible*

1283 Sno… Maide…

Ezekiel pur… Order of Nine.

*Tens of pages are unintelligibly damaged*

1283 18th of …

Reforging a soul-ring similar to what which Ezekiel possessed is proving more difficult than anticipated. Only poltergeists remain bound to my will. Time is running out.

*Further pages are damaged*

...8t… 12…

Ide… has come to… m… The appar… Which Eze… bound to his will returned lon… ago. Perhaps a diff… arr… m…

29th of… 1283

My soul appears just as fragile attached to my mortal body as the souls which cling to one another in the spectral beasts known as apparitions. Perhaps I might bind my soul to that collective entirely to manipulate it. Results will be reported.

*Hundreds of pages are unintelligible*

… 1283

It is done.

*There are no more entries in the damaged diary*

REGION 9: A Compendium on Spirits

Ghosts: A spirit which for one reason or another has refused to pass from this realm to the next. Ghosts usually linger due to an uncompleted task they wish, even in death, is completed. Ghosts are very weakly linked to our realm and therefore are often incapable of interacting with our world.

Ghosts find themselves with an aversion to light, particularly light of the holy variety. Indeed, the holy light of a War Cleric or Priest is often enough to banish these creatures and force them from our realm. Gold is also a potent weapon against these creatures, draining them of their energy for an extended period and rendering them  entirely incapable of much of anything. It is said there are other ways to banish these creatures through magical and mundane means.

Graven: A spirit which lingers on this plane of existence for similar reasons to the related ghost. For reasons unknown to the writer these creatures find themselves more tangible than ghosts can can interact with the world and be interacted with. However, they share the same weaknesses as ghosts.

Apparitions: Unlike the weaker variety of paranormal creatures, apparitions are not individual souls but rather a collection of souls held together by a particularly wicked soul. They form at the site of mass deaths and possess a variety of magical powers making them dangerous and even more powerful than experienced mages. It is said apparitions hold telekinetic powers along with other abilities to chill the air and force hideous images into the minds of their foes.

They are found around pillars, appropriately named apparition pillars. These pillars are the site of a mass death and the apparition will defend this pillar with all its might. To break the pillar will break the Apparitions bond to the location of its death and will allow it to roam free and cause havoc.

REGION 9: The Philosopher’s Chamber

The Philosopher’s Mirror

The Philosopher’s Mirror will be found within the Chamber of the Philosopher. The Chamber of the Philosopher is, in turn, found as a well furnished room which is found within the long tunnel of region 9. Within there are multiple tomes and curious objects.

The Philosopher’s Mirror itself is an object which will sit upon the long abandoned desk of the philosopher. If touched it will force a mental experience upon all those within the room (albeit the image is damaged).

A cool chill runs down the spine of he who touches the mirror. The corners of the cool object seem to glow a dull orange.

All of a sudden the entire room seems to become pitch black before being filled with a sky blue light.

In the light two figures appear to conflict in the sky blue expanse. One figure is bright while the other is dark. They seem to slam into one another and launch bolts of light and dark energy respectively.

The vision seems to freeze and rapidly fall apart. The mirror stops glowing and the individuals are returned to reality.

REGION 7: The Warped Henge

The Warped Henge is a curious creation found to the far west of the 4.0 continent. While it is mostly ruined the curious aspect of this henge is that inexplicably when individuals walk under some of the arches, they will find themselves exiting an entirely different arch (fast travels between the arches which are no more than 10 blocks from one another). Just like Stonehenge in real life, how and why this was created is unknown.

The stonehenge may later be used for an event. The poem refers to walking under the arches and how it will reveal an ancient secret. However, in truth it refers to one tracing a trail of blood under each of the warping-arches.

Precisely what this event will be remains up to he who uses it for the event— Though one would reccomend something occult.

Tome found in the Crumbling Tower:

The crumbling tower’s occupant (the cursed daughter) appears to have this book within the tower she perished in:

The Warped Henge is found far to the west of the human kingdoms. Even to the ancient kings of old, the true purpose of the henge has been entirely a mystery for centuries. Those who dare step under the arches will find themselves relocated spontaneously to another arch.

It is hypothesised by the King’s Arch-Scholar, Adrian Veretz, that the henge was once the home of an ancient magical society of not just mages, but also of druids who seemed, for some inexplicable reason, to cooperate for the purposes of furthering their own intellectual and naturalistic desires— That being said, this theory remains entirely unfounded.

Others, particularly those who have seen it with their own eyes, claim it to be a gift from the Creator himself. A puzzle left for the devout to solve so they might ascend to the seven skies and walk amongst the gods themselves.

Text engraved on one of the arches:

This crumbled stone,

This hallowed earth,

For those who walk with mortal blood,

Under these obelisks wrought form rock,

An ancient secret will be unearthed,

REGION 4: Eastern Isles

The islands to the far east lie on the edge of the old world, between Athera and the Eruthos Canyon that separates Athera from the Uncharted Wildlands. They remain untouched by civilisation. There is no lore for them because no civilisation has ever stayed there to create it. They lie there, untouched, untamed, and ready for the Descendant Races to arrive and claim them.

However, they face the same danger any coastal part of Athera faces, the Great Southern Kraken that stalks the south waters.

REGION 3: The Crumbling Tower

History:

The Crumbling Tower is found to the North of Elven lands. It is said, that long ago the dwarven King banished his daughter to the tower to await a prince to save her— A traditional fairy tale plot. However, the true rationale for her existence within the tower was that she had been tainted with dark magic. A dark magic which ran through her very soul and twisted it. So distraught was he, he banished her to this tower, under the guise of the traditional fairy tale plot. Long had the last of the order of nine wandered until he came to dwarven lands and was assigned this task to end his days in his misery from the massacre of 1283.

It was this tower which was warded and guarded by the last of the order of nine until the end of her days.

He later died and with little to eat she starved there, for the King could not bare to have his men kill his daughter and with her the taint died. Over time the wards lost their power and all that remained was her withered skeletal corpse for the descendants to find upon their arrival.

Poem found in Human Lands:

The old King’s daughter,

Day by day she waits,

Her cheeks ruddy as a rose,

Her voice sweet as a lark,

She moves with a lilly’s grace,

But it is there she waits,

In her ivory tower,

Passing her days until her prince is to come.

Outside the Sealed Door to her Room in the Tower:

Sealed by the Last of the Order of Nine, A Royal Tainted

REGION 2: Palatial Aphidylytes

Scribed from the last words of Urangoi Ballenz, fifth descendant of Urguan’s generations. [[Any dialogue or words are written in common on here for us to comprehend.]

“I am stuck. I ventured too deep into the coil of the Motley Ravine, and after a wrong turn in one of the abandoned mines I suppose I was knocked out. I’ve awoken to be affixed to a wall of some gooey, thick sludge. It binds me to wall, but luckily I have my journal wedged beside me, and close enough to write on. Nearby I hear a woman, I can barely make out her lectures, but it sounds like she is preaching in a far off cavern… I fear for my life here.”

Deep underground the ridges of the Motley Ravine lay a muddied labyrinth, marbled in stone and the hardened byproduct of ant-like construction. Riddling the maze of tunnels and crevices once scuttled swarms of uncountable hordes, writhing masses of legged, exoskeletal shells and tibia, clusters of wriggling bugs formed out of coxa and spinnerets. With thick armor of biomass from their antennas to their thoraxes, in the pitch abyss roamed the aphids, grand and gargantuan in both number and size.

But now, all have vanished. Not a single critter may be sought scuttling about in those barren halls, decrepit with time’s withering. That being due to collapse. The Deep now only consists of a chamber; the pith. The lifeless bluff of the overworld resides without motion while all of the Aphidylytes are compacted into their own deposits and veins of sand and sediment. But one.

In the core of one mesa’s knoll, wedged down below in a sliver of openness, lies the central crux. It too lies in stillness, but not in death, but in concealed ambush. The ancient Hive Queen rests in unconscious slumber, awaiting the day for excavation of a foolish kind before her automaticly reactive limbs may draw in the prey and feed upon it to revive her, and thus the Hive.

Further Reading