Souls On Ice

[The Lion 736]

 

The end of time nears the small city in Mordskov. There's not much left before chaos consumes Axios...

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Unending frost. Afflicted minds and corrupted bodies.

 

The sky above is clear, a nice hue of blue. The radiant sun shining down would normally be a light at the end of the tunnel, but in Mordskov the darkness sweeps the land with an icy grip. The howling frost gnaws at a campfire that bellows smoke from atop the highest peak in the area. An uninterrupted sight of what once was the jewel of the Empire of Man can be taken from here. A figure sits by the campfire in a meditative trance, seemingly connected with the world as he ponders what he’s observing in the distance. For some reason, he can feel that you’re watching him, but he cannot see what is watching him. He regards this as spirits, but he is no practicing shaman. Just a psychologically damaged soul. Your prying eyes continue to pour over him. Charred metal and tanned leather clad this individual who pulls a fur closer to this neck to stay warm. The very mana, that which gives life, is being sapped from his soul. Yet, he doesn’t realise it in this moment. None who lived here have…. The thanhium radiation driving his brain to fire differently. Altering his perception as it steers him into the frozen embrace of insanity that the thanhium dust brings with haunting winds. Cursing even those who do not use magic to cast active mana without warning or control. The camper’s non-flinching gaze shines through the smoke and flames of the campfire and remains fixed on the source of the unending source of thanhium radiation; Johannesburg.

 

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Haunted souls. Ancient secrets of science and magic.
 

He had served Emperor John III directly in that place until the man’s death soon after 1586. The metal masked madvillain had seen the coming of the Mad Emperor Philip as clearly as he sees the aftermath of Philip’s reign now. Deep in the ruins of ancient elves that once dwelled Tahn. Searching for relics, secrets of a long lost civilization of powerful scholars, the figure atop the mountain now was notably absent when the year 1695 came to pass. In that year, the Mad Emperor shook the lands between the sea in the south and mountains in the north of the capital city of Johannesburg forever. By detonating a massive thanhium crystal, he demolished, wrecked and annihilated 150 acres of land in seconds. Infecting miles more. Killing all life in the immediate area with a frozen clutch. The crater spewing and coughing heat-sapping irradiated dust clouds into the air. The figure looks beyond the still smoking crater, noticing that the sea south of the once-Capital violently directs the cloud in his direction. Down into his home below in the valley. Conveniently pooling mostly in the mountain ranges that surround him. The sea wind carries thanhium fallout from the bomb all the way to the Fingers of Tahn he sits in now. Pooling in the valleys between the mountains that make up the Fingers. Now he gets it. Now he sees why the people all left suddenly. Now he knows why he is a Lord of Ghosts. It was not due totally to the former Lord Rothgard's political stances and questionable habits, but the fact that those who stay in Mordskov are changed by the thanhium that hangs in the air, land and water. It must have driven Alexander mad in all his years here. A majority of the people must have recognised that they felt better when away from the hamlet. That is why they never returned. That is why nature has begun to take the city over. Why the animals were left to starve. The farms left untended. The people were unconsciously avoiding a life of unending radiation mutation that makes the very soul feel cold. Infecting the minds of most, slightly sapping mana from users of magic in a constant draw. Even the thin veil that drapes over the wooded plateau is enough to envelop someone after only a few short years of staying there. All but those who remain are either strong of will or strong of heart. Alexander Rothgard appears to have abandoned the area with his father. Ushering in an uninterrupted control of the land to none but nature and the Lord that has returned to Mordskov, Lion DeNurem douses the campfire and heads back into the valley with his newfound knowledge of the dust that ceaselessly radiates towards the city. Mutating the physics of the land. Aiming to study how to either pimp it to his benefit or pop it like a pimple, Lion gets to work building a research facility.

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A winter with no end in sight. The shroud of thanhium makes even monsters writhe from the darkness towards the warmth.

 

This is Mordskov, 1621.

 

((Basically if you stay in Mordskov for more than a year, you'll start to go insane from the thanhium radiation and probably explode in some accident by triggering a thanhium pocket with your inherent mana. You may still live in the hamlet, you just know the risks now.))

LORE REFERENCES

 

((So yeah, I’d thought I’d give a public explanation as to why Mordskov was abandoned and a hint to why there’s hostile mobs turned on in the region. Pretty sure I’m not introducing any concepts that require lore additions, but I’m willing to be surprised. I’d like to develop Mordskov  not only into an event region, but also a place where players may explore lore IG. Focusing the shift away from being a Village RP hub (tavern, guard, lord and serf RP) because there's lots of those. In favour of shifting towards small-scale skilled RP (science, magic and adventuring RP) because there's few of those.))

[Mavromino 514]

The high elf would watch down on the city of ghosts from the new buildings he was joining together. He'd observe the thamium knowing it was driving him mad causing him to have blackouts and unbeknownst to him splitting his mind into two. He saw them their rotting flesh a blight upon the world and he dropped his pickaxe and drew his battleaxe to remove them from Mordskov. He was Av'maehr.

 

[The Lion 736]

The air is tight. Thick with hanging radiation. A fog has developed around the portcullis to the city in Mordskov. Wolves and hounds, animals of all nature, mutated or together mostly roam free. The tavern hasn't  been used in weeks. The lamps haven't been lit in a year. No government seems to be upkeeping this place as of late except that of a lone madvillain. Though, there's evidence that a few superior souls still live here. In the darkness, fire pits are lit and seem to be managed by someone. Two dogs fight over a bone, one overpower the other and starting to gnash. Just then, an ancient knight wanders through the mist. The Lion floats into the portcullis and continues passed the dogs who've ceased their hostility in his presence. Upon the knight's shoulder rests a warhammer inscribed with teutonic runes and sentences written in the Marian language. Strapped to his longcoat are several belts that contain all manners of utility and use. Two chains hang from the belt about his waist. On the end of the chain near his front is an hourglass. On the chain near the his back is a black tome that's locked with a clasp without keyhole. Alone, he bobs his head to the beat and uses whatever property at his fingertips to achieve nourishment and progress. There's no one around to truly stop him.

With oxen strength, he drags behind him a cart that has a wooden crate the size of a feasting table secured to the top of it. Dragging it towards the forgotten about cobblestone mass that developed in his absence under the previous administrative authorities. Now the people mostly rule themselves. Scholars and scientists are flocking to aid the mad knight dragging the cart in his quest to meet the source of the Creator (or the dead body thereof). He's starting to dismantle the cobblestone mountain in the easterly portion of Mordskov to replace it with his research installation.

IF YOU'RE CHILL, INTERESTED IN INVENTING OR USING AND CREATING LORE, BUT DON'T FEEL LIKE COMMITTING AN OATH TO SOME HOOPLAH. COLLABORATE WITH ME.
JESTERS WELCOME.