[Maplore] The Palmreaders of Ailmere

[squakhawk 7955]

The Palmreaders of Ailmere

 

 

 

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Ailmere

 

The rolling tundra of Ailmere was a vast expanse of cold, year-round winter snows. A grand lake nestled to the south of the valley between grand hills which formed a baisin within the centre of the mountainous, frigid wasteland. Mountains, the highest upon Aevos and the continents surrounding, rolled to the north and west, blocking off the great sea-storms from the north and the scorching flames of The Redmont to the west. The valley itself was covered sparsely in grasses that barely grew, deeply rooted into the ground- growing tall against the mounting snows in order to attain any sunlight the valley attained.

 

With the grand mountains of The Valley both north and south, daylight was sparse, more akin to a constant sunset in most months of the year. The sun's light barely shed upon those freezing lands, the scarce vegetation left little room to grow. Spruce, pine, hemlock, and evergreen, were the only trees which grew within that land; rains never visited, in their place, heavy snows and blizzards which pelted the land with flake and hail alike. The skies were cloudy, and at the seat of The Mountain, the lights of heaven were the most tumultuous. Vibrant, beautiful arrays of colour flared between the clouds of the region which rarely showed the sky's magnificence. 

 

Native to the region were few animals- rabbits, elk, caribou, thundermaw ravens, Aveta stonebacks, Tulpa, Avirrin, and Rimetrolls. Herbs such as Frostvine and Athin dotted the land whilst Barrier Bush plagued the north like a rolling plague. Native and exclusive to the region on Eos, Barrier Bush was a wandering pestilence that formed massive and sprawling thickets of thorn and bramble; often blocking paths and rolling down hills, quickly and deadly enough to consume man or animal. 

 

Adventurers to Ailmere would be instilled with both dread, and a sense of beauty. Whilst the land was hostile, brutal, and frigid; it did hold a peace and quiet unlike other places upon Aevos. The land mostly unplundered by descendant's exploits, the rocks and snows within Ailmere were often those as old as creation themselves; a good chance that wherever one stepped, they were the first, and last, to step within that place.

 

An island separated the north with a small, thinly channel spent most of the year frozen over save for the warmest of months. Beside that stony, hard island, was a spire that reached from the depths of the ocean to the heights of the heavens. Surrounded in a thick ice fog and spikes of packed, permafrost ice, the spire gave off the most faint traces of ancient true magic unseen anywhere else upon Aevos. 

 

Despite this, the winds blew faintly with traces of a magic more young, and corrupt. A magic which descendants could hear, feel, and smell, but not yet understand. Stories of yore tell of The Palmreaders of Ailmere, and The Mare of Long Shadows which now resides in their place. Truth be told, stories of pure fantasy may even have some power within the deep snows of Ailmere... 

 

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The Palmreaders and The Mare of Long Shadows

 

Centuries ago, a cartographer from The Dandelion Guild had resided within the lands of Castellaneta, as a court mage to the local nobility when a strange ship had come to harbor. It's sails black, with the insignia of a grand white mountain obscuring a red sun behind. A symbol of no kingdom, house, or company he had ever recognized before. Clear as day did it's nameplate read The Faultless Hierophant. It was captained by a woman with no name, helmed by a brawny man simply called Endurance. Intrigued, did Ser Winston inquire further of their crew. She gave simple glance at the man, and Winston was wracked with paralysis. His voice cut, his fingers twitched and froze, his muscles spasmed as they fought against something, but did not move. It felt an eternity, yet ended in an instant as her gaze broke from him. Hair masked her face of which he could not recall; the pieces fit together of what he had thought she had looked like, but now he began to doubt. Had he even seen it before? What of when she looked upon him?

 

His plan quickly seemed to come apart, as quickly as they had come, quickly did they leave. Dockworkers and skippers from other crews had held the same curiosity as Ser Winston. Quietly and without word, they dropped their loading crates and left all they had known behind without a word. Had it really only been seconds that Ser Winston was entranced? Minutes? Hours? It was impossible to tell; his mind scrambled and time without sense. As the collection of crew boarded, soon did the banner of The White Mountain and Red Sun quickly fade into the distance. As his senses slowly came to him, he felt as if he could name further of the crew without having even met them. Faith. Strength. Fear. Curiosity. His urge to chase grew as each sense returned, and his jumbled thoughts could finally begin to make sense. Yet, before his mind could even put sentences together, the ship had long faded away into the distance. Hours passed, the sun beginning to fall beneath the horizon. 

 

His palms hurt.

 

 

 

It was centuries later that descendants had landed upon Aevos; those same banners flying high over a small, broken, walled settlement nestled at the foot of The Mountain. It's stormcloud boiled over high as the abandoned town sat derelict and left behind, snows heavy set and leaving the ruined village a small piece of times forgotten frozen in ice. Permafrost and icicles held grip over buildings made of wood older than most who would ever set eyes upon them. Beyond the village limits into the hills, a trail which began a path upward of the mountain.

 

Descendants could walk days between travel and journey up the The Leviathan, encountering expeditions of those long past. Eyes set upon the fallen, frozen skulls and remains could still be found in the snows. Those who had fallen to ice, starvation, deception, and betrayal - The Mountain was a graveyard of corpses. Littered along it, names whispered beneath the wind too distant to hear beneath the howling flurries that permeated around the mountain. Their hands missing, their eyes cut deliberately from their skulls as fewer and fewer corpses could be found further up The Mountain. Magic radiated like the scent of death from the corpses, whatever means of spellcraft they had once possessed were just barely tangible. As if upon the tip of one's tongue could they just begin to listen; but not quite understand; whatever sorcery was speaking to them.

 

It was as if the land had despised them, each and every individual which had stepped within Ailmere's bounds. Descendants spoke tall-tales of the pale shadow of a woman who stood taller than the snows, watching from a distance with a piercing gaze. Moonlight white, white like eyes, her gaze pierced the hearts of men and women as she observed eerily still from any distance. Without approach or contact, her presence would linger; the feeling of being watched everpresent within those snows as she continued to observe until descendants left Ailmere's bounds. 

 

Without explanation, even unvisited from camp; those who looked upon her, or rather, those she looked upon, would find themselves troubled within Ailmere's heavy snows. Campfires snuffed, the cold emboldened and frigid within her presence, dreams turned to nightmares as they were invaded by her unending glare. An omen of lies, regret, and destiny; bad fortune which stuck upon descendants like snow upon ice.

 

Ailmere was cold, quiet, and The Mountain above did not wish to be disturbed. 

 

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OOC Information

 

Ailmere is a significant portion of the map riddled with mystery, fate, and curiosity. There are a lot of interactions and events which interact with the map circling back to Ailmere. In the near future, more worldlore, prophecies, and even a feat in close relation will be released as players engage and discover more of the land's mysterious past through various eventlines. The fate of The Palmreaders discovered over time, descendants would not know what they had awoken upon their unwilling landing to the continent.

 

The Mare of Long Shadows is able to be roleplayed only by ET for unsettling interactions or as a small part of events taking place within the region, and cannot be spoken to, reached, or effectively attacked. Tormenting victims, The Mare would torturously try and sabotage descendants and bring them further into Ailmere, and further into it's cold blizzard. Corralling visitors unwittingly to The Mountain by accident. 

 

The Mare and The Account of Ser Winston are available to be known by any as detailed on this post as legend. These accounts in this lorepiece may not be wholly accurate or true, but for the purposes of roleplay, characters may remove, add, or phrase however of the above best fits their take upon the stories told. Players may state or have actually interacted with The Mare without ET present, although following the above, none would ever reach, interact, or truly harm The Mare. 

 

The magic left behind of The Palmreader's corpses littered along the mountain clearly gives off hints of some form of mana, although it's nature, origin, and purpose is indistinct and not discernable until further notice.

 

This lorepiece will be updated as eventlines progress and storylines occur throughout the map.