Royal Peasant

Looks like a new zone for adventurers to get some quaky, and chaotic scenes! A true twilight zone.

It was fun helping to get this out! I'm eager to see it get accepted and enjoy the roleplay that such a feel good submission can bring.

I'm glad you've taken my words so well! Now to speak of the words you've said, I can agree, that a system that would allow the coins to work with both the living and the dead would be more complicated and would need to be thought deeper on. But I can see various ways of going about that. For example a simple difference between the living and the dead variations of the coins is that a living coin can only work on the willing living, they can not be tricked, forced, or pressured into the deal. But be fully willing to put their soul into the bargain that was given. While the dead coins don't actually grasp the soul, but what lingers in the body shortly after death. The energy of life that glistens with a crimson lustre within the blood that slowly oozes out of the unmoving body of the defeated. Both being soul coins, but while one has a link to a whole soul the other would have a sliver that didn't pass on. Its only a example, but its something that could be humoured. As for the lore's you've suggested, those items come with the crafter giving a piece of their own soul, not taking the souls of others. A crafter would go about such a thing knowing that a portion of their very being was going into the piece that they were working on, while the other is a unwilling soul that will protest and struggle with the backing of any entitles that already have tethers attached to that soul. The latter promotes roleplay from the crafter and personal scenes, while the former promotes the crafters of the coins to go out and kill anyone, and anything they can get their hands on to make coins for the benefits of their infernal masters. They promote and encourage different kinds of roleplay despite both having a connection to souls. So that should be thought on. Another thought, but one that only brushed through my mind while taking another read through while writing this up. Is which part of the lore more important to you? Looking over the written works and culture behind the coins it appears to be posted with the infernal side being the focus, and the key to the coins. Its only when we got the end of the last paragraph that anything related to monster hunting is included, and instead of it being the hunters and adventurers being the focal point, its about them being tricked and used as 'harvesters' for the souls of the infernal. Which I don't see working if monster hunters are meant to be the focal point and goal for the coin themselves. The men and woman that go out hunting monsters and fighting the horrors of the world aren't fools, they'd have ties with magic users, or even be magic users themselves which would allow them to investigate and figure out what the coins actually do. They would be able to figure out that their damning the souls of the creatures they kill and giving them over to infernal forces with enough time. Some would cherish the idea of damning the souls of their monsterous foes to the hells, others would be horrified at what they had unknowingly did, while others may even be enraged and seek to hunt the infernal alchemist down for their trickery. Which isn't a bad thing, its a whole mass of roleplay that could go through if the coins were used as said, to trick others to do the dirty work for the infernal. But with the focal point as it seems to be by the writing the coins are more geared towards those with ties or are part of the infernal forces themselves and adding something to their lore and abilities over something that is meant to be geared towards monster hunters as a focus.

The concept is pretty cool, especially when you consider it for a monster hunter and D&D standpoint. But with how important the soul is for literally every form of magic within LOTC from my understanding, something that can meddle with the soul being so easily accessible and used by anyone that has alchemy and is either taught the art, or stumbles upon the coin could be a issue. Lets say a coin was used to take a sliver of a soul from a paladin who had the holy power of their god within them and they revived within the cloud temple, would the god themselves not be infuriated that a piece of their followers soul was taken? And would it not have a effect on the magic that paladin can use as it as severed a sliver of their very being into the coin? I can understand by the red lines that its not meant to have any effect on a descendant who has gone to the cloud temple, but I can't help but wonder how it couldn't have a effect due to what I mentioned above. The fact that the coin could also be used to steal the souls of the deceased from their afterlife in whatever form it takes or is formed is also another factor to the coin that could be abused by those that wish to use it against people instead of monster hunting as the item is originally crafted for by the purpose. Now it may seem like I am saying a lot against it, but that isn't my intention, I'm trying to offer some genuine feedback and ideas to consider for the item itself. For example what about someone who is willing to bet their soul, a literal devils bargain for a bet? A contract between two people and the loser has their soul not lost inside of the coin, but attached too it. Which could develop into a entire roleplay arc around the coin. But another thought I had to suggest, and the main one that popped into my mind to consider instead of the soul is 'life'. For example, a monster that had died from battle, but still had a long time left in their life. The coin could be used to capture the lingering life that the creature would of lived, the amount of coins possible being tied to how healthy, strong, and in their prime the target of the hunt happens to be. Its a alternative that leans a little bit more alongside the side of necromancy than infernal. But I can still see devil and demonkind seeking them out. After all, how else are they going to experience what it means to be 'alive' as the mortals are? To experience the world and senses in the life of another creature? It could be a luxury. On a final note, it might be a idea to remove the coins ability to work on descendants entirely. And just have it work for monsters and creatures, sticking it solely for the purpose that was intended. Or alter it to be monster coins and a monster hunters currency that they can gather with alchemy to act as proof and currency among the many monster hunter communities. Try to bring a spark of life back to the adventurer/monster hunter roleplay. Just picturing the witchers 'coin' acting for something like a direwolf flashes in my mind with the coin taking the image of whatever beast was slain. Hell you could even turn the coins into a game among hunters by collecting and trading them if you went that route. These are my thoughts, questions, ideas and suggestions. I'm not sure if any of them will be helpful but I do hope they are in some way!

Roylan's own Aqua green eyes spread to look over the gathering group that were around them. The armoured warriors growing in numbers, knights and men. Showing themselves one by one. "Seem's we have a lot of ya gathering up for this. But considering this is gonna be a threat in narrow, underground caves by the sounds of it, we'd be fools to go in such large numbers. We'd get in each others way and make it easier for a threat to claim us." He voiced as he considered each of them one by one. "Are any of ya open to forming a small team with I for this? A gathering of three, possibly five men, at most. A solid hunting team, and we wouldn't end up cramping any tunnels we enter with numbers with that amount."

Roylan was one of those souls who stayed. To hear more of the words that flowed from the man, to hear more of the tale. Passing coin over for another mug he walked over to the old drunks table and sat it down before him as he took a seat. "Ya speak of a beast that is dragging poor sods to his lair, his den. Yet the way ya speak of it makes it seem like ya know where this den is yourself. So tell me, where did ya hear this?" His eyes glanced over to the others that joined the table, to speak with the man to learn more. To see who else was interested about the tale, and the source of this threat that was roaming the lands and kidnapping men.

The Brave man didn't know Qing Long as well as he might of liked, he knew the man to be kind hearted, for the way he fought and tried not to bring harm while they had hunted together. He knew the man to a teacher, passing on the knowledge of the monk to the next generation along with other skills. He knew the man to be wise, and a man with views he followed, a code he kept. For his tome that he had gifted to him in the past spoke as such. He knew the man had a creative side, witnessing crafting somekind of instrument by the campfire in a morn many months past. He knew all these things, but still, there had been so much more that could of been learned. Yet now, in a town surrounded by fire, tree's ablaze and land scorching the stone in a hot flame. That time came to pass, and laid to rest. But he couldn't just leave him there! Even fallen, and surrounded by fire. Having guided the lynx to their allies he dove back into the flames. Hating every moment of it as his mind flashed back to his youth, but he refused to leave the man to be consumed by the flames of the dragons when so many cared for him. Finding him in the den where the titans had once fought, he picked him up, much like he had the lynx. Retrieving his weapon, and his scroll that were left around him and began to guide the man that had grown still out of the burning lands. Out of the realm, towards the ships. Towards harbour. And safety. Safety was found within the waters. As it had with so many others that had taken to the ships. It allowed travel without flames, sword, and lighting to rain down to claim them within a city under siege. And with it, the Hou-zi was brought back to Vale, back to one of their homes. To find a resting place that matched the gentle soul of the Hou-zi that once stood there.

There is a lot to take in this, the lore and culture from what I just read made me wish I played a character that was into music and had a more social charismatic to spread such tales and songs throughout the land. It was a inspiring read.

“The itsy bitsy spider crawled up the water spout. Down came the rain, and washed the spider out. Out came the sun, and dried up all the rain, and the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again”

Roylan hears the tales of a ball, of a event that was carried through the air on the autumn breeze as it cools his body. Intrigue found he sought out, and began to prepare himself for the festivities that were going to happen on the day. Aqua eyes bright, looking forward to the day.

The Valah worked, patiently under the swaying branches of a great tree of iron as the sky peeked down from above with its glistening shadows. Illuminating the podium as the Valah brought his hand back, and forth, a needle with the mark of crimson and ink shining in its lustier being driven forth into the flesh of the figure before them. Time passed, in the silence of the air, with only the faint hiss of a voice and the swaying of the leaves to tell the passing of time as the slow, steady hands were drawn back. And forth. Following a pattern. Etching the memory of the mark into flesh to be recorded for the rest of the subjects existence. With a flash of steel, and a quick slice of a sharped edge a line met the marks, ink flowing against the new wound and joining the works carved into the flesh. Completely it.

He gazes at the wanted poster for a long, hard moment. With narrowed eyes, and knitted brows, pondering over the expression and details that the wanted poster had described and wanted to be found...before finally letting out a breathe. "I can think of five guys that just need a shave, or stop shaving to fit this." With those words, he carried on. Putting the poster into the back of his mind for later.

I just want to say that its cool that you made a whole language, and I look forward to learning it in character. A lot of potential fun to be had.

Road on his stead, slowly marching through the familiar cold lands when a cool breeze flew over his head, carrying the snow from up on high and bringing it it over him. Until he suddenly caught the scent of ash on his breathe, and realized that it was not just snow, but ash, that was carried by the wind. Bringing the ash upon him as he wiped it from his cheek and rubbed it between his fingers. "I wonder who's pyre needed such a strong flame..."

Roylan add's one of his own research books that he had made into the box for books. Making a mental count down in his head. Along with one other book that wasn't his own creation. "Two down, five to go...I wonder if I will manage to do it in time?"

Roylan had been travelling on his mare when a sudden burst of wind had a piece of paper flying from the gates of Haense and right into his face, smothering his features and for a moment bringing a sense of panic to him as he was blinded! After a quick moment to clear his face, crinkling the paper and gently stroking his fingers through his mare's mane to calm them he looked upon the sheet that had smothered him with the aid of nature. And found himself looking surprised at the contents. "This sounds like something from the druid folk..." Intrigued, he folded the abused paper up and tucked it away under his furs and kept on riding. Keeping it in mind should he have the time to pay the event a visit.

________________________ \----------/ |________________| Carving Of the Homebound Totem A short little story of the creation of a totem from a man who's home has always been in the snow and ice. Roylan was many things. A large man being a highlander, a man who tended to speak his mind, a man who preferred to the comfort of the wild and nature to the noise and busy streets of a town. But even he could feel that his current actions were not the smartest, even if he was being stubborn. He had a den. One carved out underground, a little, a little dark. But a den all the same. Yet...he couldn't be comfortable there. It was too warm. Too humid. Everything just felt so...heated. Rest wouldn't come easy to him no matter how much he tried to simply lay down and let it take him. Perhaps it was the new den, or the climate that was making it so difficult for him to close his eyes and simply rest. He would adapt and settle into it with time if he simply closed his eyes and tried again, and again. But..he thought of a new way. One inspired by words spoken. To bring a touch of his home, the cold, the frost, the ice to his new den. So he set out, mounted upon his mare Spots, coaxing them forward with a stroke of their mane and riding out back to the north. Back to the comfort he knew for so long. Reaching the snow covered lands, and the ice crowned peaks he took out his pick. And got to work. Chiselling ice in large chunks, gathering them into sacks that weighed him down. Weighed down by the ice he headed home, with the distant sound of wolves through the falling snow to bid his farewell to the lands. But the return trip...proved that he didn't take everything into account. The rain that had been falling for a year drenched his form, and soaked into his packs, melting the ice. By the time he had gotten to his den half of it had already been lost to the warm waters that fell from above. "That....could of gone better. Alright. This isn't going to work....I need. Furs. I need too...ah! Pack it with snow! That should keep the cold." With a new idea forming, he left the ice at the bottom of his den. Hoping the stone would help keep it cool and preserve it as he went out again. Discovering signs of blood staining the snow, and the silent sound of the wind blowing faster upon him. "The wolves must of eaten well for their supper." Letting the land bury the signs of death deep under the picture perfect snow, he once again got to work. Gathering ice. Packing it. And covering it with furs to make sure that the warm waters didn't reach it. The trips began to repeat...back, and forth, back, and forth. Riding out and dragging the frozen waters into the cave. It began to melt, gathering up into a pool of cold, icy liquid, trickling down into the bottom of his den. The cold was a comfort. Refreshing, soothing against his body as he began to work, feeling as if the ice was singing to him he slowly began to carve. Getting the shape out. The image of the largest, most powerful beast of his home filling his mind as he began to work. "This...doesn't feel right." The first attempt of the stature, of the totem was done. Giving a basic image of the beast carved out in ice Yet it was missing so much. It was missing..."Tusks, eyes, a foundation to show strength...It needs to be more than just ice. But what to use...." Realization came from a overheard conversation. The artisan guild! He had forgotten that it had existed. With a renewed drive he slipped into the building. And sought materials. Ideas. Glimpses of what had been made that could push the right vision through his mind. And he found it, in quartz. Soon his creation had legs of pure white pillars to stand up from, feet that pressed into the growing cold pool of water that slowly grew from below. Tusks beginning to form and grow out. And for eyes, he squeezed in two barrels. Giving a better foundation. A better view to witness. \----------/ And so it was shown. Both to a grandfather and to a wild bear of a woman with red hair. Presenting it and getting words of wisdom. A idea of what could be done with the totem. What the next path could be. And yet... /----------\ "It still doesn't feel right..." He felt more comfortable now. More able to relax and settle within this place. Having moved several of his catches hidden in logs and roots into his den. Yet the totem, still didn't feel right. It needed more. It needed more soul worked into it. Time passed, lessons came in the arts he was being taught for a trail of patience. Letting his mind think. Letting it listen to the song of the ice..and begin to work again. Tusks of pure white were further pronounced and hanging over the pond of frozen water that was starting to grow life within it. Designs began to be worked into the ice, cracking it, chipping, and carving designs into place. The trunk of the mammoth he was bringing to life gaining the most focus, the most design work. Having coal worked into the ice to darken its texture. A new discovery within the Artisan guild of a strange new sand, a sand that burnt blue sparked a new idea. Guiding him further on. The barrels were removed. Lanterns of glowing blue were set in the caverns of the totems sockets, slowly glowing their pale light. A campfire was set upon the trunk itself. Lit, with a faint light that flickered up and flowing in a unseen breeze. With one final look...he felt he was done. He felt he had it right, at last. \----------/ To be sure, he sought out visitors. A lady of wisdom and bushes who felt a touch of comfort, of home at the sight. His teacher in the arts, who encouraged his own growing inspirations in the field. Taking in his reaction. And finally...feeling like it was complete. /----------\ Yet as he sat on his log. Gazing at the totem, feeling a sense of calm and listening to the sounds of the ice and cold waters. One thought filled his mind. "...What is a vision quest?"

Greater Mani Link to Source:Link "I still do not know how to explain it. We hailed him as our mightiest hunter, who's strength was untested. We hunted beast, after beast, savoured meat and left unworthy trophies for the winters to claim. Yet it all changed, when the storm came, sudden. Unrelenting. Blinding us, halting our advance. The cold seeping the strength from our very bones. I hid, I burrowed under the snow, fear gripping my heart while the leader of our band found himself face to face with a beast. A beast with eyes of red, glinting with challenge." -The mad ramblings of a cowardly hunter. Since ages past, when men first started to adapt, to change, and create things outside of their forms. Ganshara was there to witness it, to watch over them, to see the first of humanity rising for the front with their desires and wants. Patiently watching, taking in the actions of what was once more primal creatures slowly starting to adapt to change. The prince did not go into a fury whence the men that had grown hunted its kin, for it knew the need of the hunt, for survival, to feed and keep your kind fed and watered. Especially in the frozen lands that it called its people's home. Yet when the very same people began to swell with pride, with their ego grows too high, when they begin to squander the very bounty that they had claimed....He grew. Frustrated. And thus began the days when he would come out and challenge those hunters, those men who knew naught but pride, bringing the storm, the blizzard and his might to face them and see how long they hold onto their pride and folly as they were brought under heel. Ganshara is known through the ramblings of broken men, who hid and barely survived through the biting cold to tell their tale. All but broken with the strength they once held warped from their bodies leaving them weak and unable to continue as they had. Taken as a legend some youth's, with eyes of wonder seek the stories as a challenge to claim for their own. But those wise of mind and word take the tales as a warning that they are, not to be too proud, not to let themselves lose themselves in their own arrogance. But to keep to their path, and take only what they came for. Lest they bring the wrath of the land upon them. Ganshare himself, as the oldest and largest of his kin, their prince and guide, is not too different in stature and appearance to his other kin by overall shape. But where he differs is in size, standing taller than all over kin, with tusks of a bright white lustier that matches the beauty of pure snow, fur so thick that very little can pierce their hide. While the bright red shine of his eyes seemed to focus with smouldering attention. Lesser Mani Sed'nakki, Princess of Walrus Link to Source: Link "Our ships kept taking on water and sinking despite the fact that we were nowhere near the shallows. We had nothing to hit, nothing to crash our hull into, to scrap ourselves upon. Yet somehow we still did. We couldn't stop it from happening, it was though we were being punished for something we had done. Until one day, it just stopped happening, as quickly as it came. Was it all just our incompetence, or was this a warning? And if so. What for?"-Words from a Sailor of Norland after many unexplained sunken ships sank to their depths. Sed'nakki is not one to be tested, but is also not one to be act unless roused either. She enjoys her peace, her relaxation upon the ice and her feasts within the wild for her and her children. Yet when the ice and waters that she and her children call their own is threatened, she is roused, seeking out the bodies that men use to spread out into the waters and skewering them in retaliation, in warning, keeping herself out of sight, in the depths. Only letting her tusks rise up to pierce their vessels and watching from afar to see if they heed the warning. Should they not, she will return, and repeat, again, and again, until the warning is taken and kept. But that does not mean she can not be reasoned with, should a gentle and pure soul seek her out. As had happened in the past, they can quell her fury with gifts, offerings, but most importantly, by delivering her warnings and calling back the men that had driven her to that state. She often guides wise women, children, and weathered men through words passed by the water to deliver these words. Rarely revealing her full form outside of all but the purest. Her true form is massive and intimidating. bringing fear just from the sight of her as her tusks tower over any weapon or blade that one might be able to wield to try and test them. Her skin a deep grey that allows her to slip under the waters without being seen. Knowing the reactions her form may bring from the sight of her she rarely allows herself to be seen by men. Bai'Janik, Prince of PenguinsLink to Source: Link"I saw...I saw lush fields, full of wheat, flourishing food and gentle swaying trees. A soft, golden land of wheat and green trees. It was beautiful! If only that was the only thing I had seen.... Why did it show me that? A land full of smoke, filth, and oil? Why was I shown something so bleak?"-Words from a woman who saw herself as a Seer in HaenseThe lord of his raft and his waddle sits comfortably in the middle of the scales of balance, gazing towards the beauty that is nature and watching over it, while baring his back to all that is civilization and the poison it brings to what he deems to be truly beautiful. He is a bird with a desire for beauty, of art, and seems it in all of the earthy creations he sees while resting in the pure white snow and ice of his flock. All the penguins, travelling through the seasons and nesting, from the different appearances, and colours, all fall under his sway, his views. And they know it. Giving them the courage to enter villages and attempting to nest in their very homes as if it was their own at times. Rare is it that the lord is roused to anger, most not bringing themselves to harm his kindred due to their rather captivating appearances, yet when he is roused, either from harm befalling his kin, or for the poison that plagues his view to getting too strong he will act. History has shown this to appear in several fashions, yet the most common, and the most remembered time he came out and showed his mark was when both of his loves were stained at once. Men had gathered waste yet they had no way of disposing it, no way of removing it without contaminating their own towns or the food supply they had in the rivers. Instead of seeking ways to safely deal with them...they took the waste upon their ships, and headed to the north, headed into the could. And dumped it. Poisoning the waters and making them slick, and in the process, marking a raft of penguins that had been nearby. When the ship returned with the men who had taken this task, their eyes had clouded over, and they could barely speak. Carrying the lesson not to repeat what had been done with them.

Greater Mani Ganshara, Prince of Mammoth's Link to Source: Link "I still do not know how to explain it. We hailed him as our mightiest hunter, who's strength was untested. We hunted beast, after beast, savoured meat and left unworthy trophies for the winters to claim. Yet it all changed, when the storm came, sudden. Unrelenting. Blinding us, halting our advance. The cold seeping the strength from our very bones. I hid, I burrowed under the snow, fear gripping my heart while the leader of our band found himself face to face with a beast. A beast with eyes of red, glinting with challenge." -The mad ramblings of a cowardly hunter. Since ages past, when men first started to adapt, to change, and create things outside of their forms. Ganshara was there to witness it, to watch over them, to see the first of humanity rising for the front with their desires and wants. Patiently watching, taking in the actions of what was once more primal creatures slowly starting to adapt to change. The prince did not go into a fury whence the men that had grown hunted its kin, for it knew the need of the hunt, for survival, to feed and keep your kind fed and watered. Especially in the frozen lands that it called its people's home. Yet when the very same people began to swell with pride, with their ego grows too high, when they begin to squander the very bounty that they had claimed....He grew. Frustrated. And thus began the days when he would come out and challenge those hunters, those men who knew naught but pride, bringing the storm, the blizzard and his might to face them and see how long they hold onto their pride and folly as they were brought under heel. Ganshara is known through the ramblings of broken men, who hid and barely survived through the biting cold to tell their tale. All but broken with the strength they once held warped from their bodies leaving them weak and unable to continue as they had. Taken as a legend some youth's, with eyes of wonder seek the stories as a challenge to claim for their own. But those wise of mind and word take the tales as a warning that they are, not to be too proud, not to let themselves lose themselves in their own arrogance. But to keep to their path, and take only what they came for. Lest they bring the wrath of the land upon them. Ganshare himself, as the oldest and largest of his kin, their prince and guide, is not too different in stature and appearance to his other kin by overall shape. But where he differs is in size, standing taller than all over kin, with tusks of a bright white lustier that matches the beauty of pure snow, fur so thick that very little can pierce their hide. While the bright red shine of his eyes seemed to focus with smouldering attention. Lesser Mani Sed'nakki, Princess of Walrus Link to Source: Link "Our ships kept taking on water and sinking despite the fact that we were nowhere near the shallows. We had nothing to hit, nothing to crash our hull into, to scrap ourselves upon. Yet somehow we still did. We couldn't stop it from happening, it was though we were being punished for something we had done. Until one day, it just stopped happening, as quickly as it came. Was it all just our incompetence, or was this a warning? And if so. What for?" -Words from a Sailor of Norland after many unexplained sunken ships sank to their depths. Sed'nakki is not one to be tested, but is also not one to be act unless roused either. She enjoys her peace, her relaxation upon the ice and her feasts within the wild for her and her children. Yet when the ice and waters that she and her children call their own is threatened, she is roused, seeking out the bodies that men use to spread out into the waters and skewering them in retaliation, in warning, keeping herself out of sight, in the depths. Only letting her tusks rise up to pierce their vessels and watching from afar to see if they heed the warning. Should they not, she will return, and repeat, again, and again, until the warning is taken and kept. But that does not mean she can not be reasoned with, should a gentle and pure soul seek her out. As had happened in the past, they can quell her fury with gifts, offerings, but most importantly, by delivering her warnings and calling back the men that had driven her to that state. She often guides wise women, children, and weathered men through words passed by the water to deliver these words. Rarely revealing her full form outside of all but the purest. Her true form is massive and intimidating. bringing fear just from the sight of her as her tusks tower over any weapon or blade that one might be able to wield to try and test them. Her skin a deep grey that allows her to slip under the waters without being seen. Knowing the reactions her form may bring from the sight of her she rarely allows herself to be seen by men. Bai'Janik, Prince of Penguins Link to Source: Link "I saw...I saw lush fields, full of wheat, flourishing food and gentle swaying trees. A soft, golden land of wheat and green trees. It was beautiful! If only that was the only thing I had seen.... Why did it show me that? A land full of smoke, filth, and oil? Why was I shown something so bleak?" -Words from a woman who saw herself as a Seer in Haense The lord of his raft and his waddle sits comfortably in the middle of the scales of balance, gazing towards the beauty that is nature and watching over it, while baring his back to all that is civilization and the poison it brings to what he deems to be truly beautiful. He is a bird with a desire for beauty, of art, and seems it in all of the earthy creations he sees while resting in the pure white snow and ice of his flock. All the penguins, travelling through the seasons and nesting, from the different appearances, and colours, all fall under his sway, his views. And they know it. Giving them the courage to enter villages and attempting to nest in their very homes as if it was their own at times. Rare is it that the lord is roused to anger, most not bringing themselves to harm his kindred due to their rather captivating appearances, yet when he is roused, either from harm befalling his kin, or for the poison that plagues his view to getting too strong he will act. History has shown this to appear in several fashions, yet the most common, and the most remembered time he came out and showed his mark was when both of his loves were stained at once. Men had gathered waste yet they had no way of disposing it, no way of removing it without contaminating their own towns or the food supply they had in the rivers. Instead of seeking ways to safely deal with them...they took the waste upon their ships, and headed to the north, headed into the could. And dumped it. Poisoning the waters and making them slick, and in the process, marking a raft of penguins that had been nearby. When the ship returned with the men who had taken this task, their eyes had clouded over, and they could barely speak. Carrying the lesson not to repeat what had been done with them.

Located north of the Kingdom of Haense, and spreading far to the east of the Kingdom of Norland, lays the Rimeweld wastes. While some of the land had been worked into paths for travel, allowing both Haense and Norland people to venture into the wastes, the vast majority of the land is covered in snow and ice, making it a difficult and a perilous trek to venture deeper without the right supplies and knowledge of the land. The land itself is completely covered in snow and ice, rising tall into mountaintops with gaping holes that could lead to any man's death should they fall into the mountains inner depths. Frozen spires of ice, rising tall, as if they were the trees of the land, reaching out to the heavens. While what form of life that has still managed to thrive within these frozen lands continue to prosper and struggle to survive under the shadows of those towering spires. For this, was a land of the hunt. Where beasts hunted each other for any form of meat they could. Great white bears that roamed, packs of winter wolves that stalked for their prey, foxes of white fur and hares that burrow themselves deep into the snow for safety. With the barest hint of flora managing to still exist, the rare plant, that thrives in the cold instead of being frozen by it, and trees that burrow their roots deep under the snow to find their nutrients. However, despite the vast majority of the land is owned by nature, and nature solely, there is still some form of civilized life that had managed to secure a hold of the land, where many have risen and fallen back under the snow to be forgotten. Mining operations from the kingdoms have dug through the ice, and snow, creating lands for them to work deep into the mountains to mine resources on the outskirts of their kingdoms. And what remains of the Rimtrolls that survive deep, deep into the snowly lands, living in peace with vegetation unless angered by trespassers. But like any place where multiple civilizations have a connection, tensions will thrive. As they once did in the past with the Rimtrolls and the neighbouring people. War was claimed, and war was given, to take the land filled with untouched resources and make it their own. The war went long, and bloody, but eventually it came to a end. With peace. And a treaty between the Norland people and the Rimtrolls of trade to settle the long bloody conflict. Leaving peace to take the forefront of the snowy lands once more. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Since joining I've asked in multiple places about the lore of the Rimeveld, be it the discord, the ooc, and searched for what rare pieces of lore I can find. The responses to the inquires have been 'Its frozen' to joking answers, but I never managed to find anything concrete, and my own searches on the forum and Wiki resulted in little to be found as well. So I wished to write something up to describe the land and some of its hidden lore for those that join, so they aren't baffled like myself. ---------------------------------------------------------------