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Chp. 1: On Gods The Old Three Grønn the Life-Bringer, the Ivy that Creeps, the Undivided Aspect, Father Green, the Evertreader In the heart of the natural world dwells Grønn, the Life-Bringer, a towering figure revered as the embodiment of nature's power and vitality. Within the Old Faith, Grønn is venerated as the amalgamation of the druidic spirits, representing the essence of nature itself. His presence manifests as a towering figure, standing twelve feet tall, with skin of bark, teeth of rock, and eyes that shimmer like pools of water. Adorned with a crown of leaves and vines that twist and turn in wild abandon, Grønn embodies the untamed spirit of the wilderness. Though his form is formidable, he is elusive, appearing fleetingly amidst the verdant depths of the forest or the rushing waters of the river. Grønn's benevolence is widely acknowledged among his followers, who revere him as the guardian and protector of all living things. Hunters offer thanks for his sacrifices, acknowledging the natural order that allows them to sustain themselves through the bounty of the land. Others, who eschew the consumption of meat, commune with the animals and the land, seeking harmony and balance in their relationship with nature. As the Guardian of Nature, Grønn holds sway over all aspects of the natural world, from the towering trees to the smallest insect. He is the steward of the elements, shaping the earth, air, fire, and water as gifts to Morighaen, the Night Mother, in her eternal dance across the cosmos. Yet, Grønn's influence extends beyond the material realm, serving as the bridge between the earthly plane and the astral realms. He is the embodiment of life's vitality, the force that binds the celestial and the terrestrial in a harmonious union. To commune with Grønn is to commune with the very essence of nature itself, to recognize the interconnectedness of all living things and the sacredness of the natural world. Through his guidance, his followers seek to live in harmony with the rhythms of the earth, honoring the cycles of life, death, and rebirth that define the eternal dance of existence. Followers to Grønn exist already: Grønn has been the most timeless of the Three, as much as nature has been one of the most steadfast domains in our world. The Druids have gone nowhere, and while their manner of worship has evolved with time, the Great Green God is as persistent as the rivers that carry his word in the babbles of brooks, and the rolling of stones. Thrønn the Impartial, the Reflection of Humanity, the Infinitely Faced, the Everchanger, That which is in the Mirror, Thief of the Heart’s Fire, It Who Steps in Your Wake Within the depths of every human soul resides Thrønn, the Impartial, a figure shrouded in the collective consciousness of humanity. They embody the myriad desires, virtues, and flaws that define the human experience, appearing as a shapeless entity, a shadow cast by the inner workings of each individual. To their followers, Thrønn represents the impartial observer of human existence, a silent witness to the complexities of mortal life. They gather in open fields, acknowledging their own shadows as reflections of Thrønn's essence, and offer prayers that vary as widely as the individuals themselves. Some beseech them for guidance in times of need, while others express gratitude for the blessings they have received. The relationship between humanity and Thrønn is symbiotic yet enigmatic. While some view them as a benevolent force, bestowing the gift of "Heartfire" upon humankind—a source of inspiration and creativity—others see them as a mirror reflecting the darker aspects of human nature. Those who shun Thrønn often do so out of fear or resentment, unwilling to confront the truths they reveal about themselves. Yet, Thrønn's nature is not fixed or predetermined. Some believe that they mirror the qualities of those who invoke them, embodying both the virtues and vices of humanity in equal measure. To the greedy, they appear as a figure of avarice and selfishness, while to the kind-hearted, they manifest as a beacon of benevolence and compassion. Thrønn, the Reflection of Humanity, exists as a testament to the complexity of the human soul, embodying both light and shadow, virtue and vice. To understand them is to understand oneself, for they are the mirror that reflects the essence of humanity in all its diversity and contradiction. Long ago, when Adunians and Highlanders still roamed the old Aegisian North, Thrønn intervened in mortal lifes and gave them divine magic. They reached into the first men and drew the flames from their chest, and put them in their own hands. Morighaen, who interacts in the lives of men in much subtler ways, doomed Thrønn to wander amongst those whose lives they so intimately mingle with: integrating with society, subtly. Those who devote themselves to Thrønn come in all walks of life. A mass of those who would worship the Infinitely Faced would find paradoxical, and contradictory pairs amidst its group, because Thrønn welcomes all. Those who worship Thrønn often do so out of a shared love of humanity and life itself, typically. The Everchanger does not ask you to be anything, but who you are, to the best of your own ability. Morighaen the Night Mother, She Whose Wings Breath the Sky to Light, the Distant Woman, She Who Cloaks, the First to Awaken, the Scale Tipper, the Unseen Hand, the Great Isolator In the unfathomable depths of the Astral planes reigns Morighaen, the Night Mother, a figure veiled in the splendor of celestial realms. Enigmatic and vast beyond mortal comprehension, she embodies the essence of cosmic equilibrium, neither benevolent nor malevolent but a force beyond human understanding. Morighaen's presence transcends the mortal realm, yet she remains aloof from direct intervention in the affairs of mortals. Instead, she weaves the fabric of existence with a subtle touch, guiding the cosmic dance of stars and planets. Her influence permeates the tapestry of reality, shaping the cycles of the moon, the passage of time, and the patterns of weather, all from a distance too great for mortal eyes to perceive. To her followers, Morighaen represents the ineffable mysteries of the universe, a beacon of contemplation and reverence. They offer prayers not for her intervention but for understanding and enlightenment, seeking to align themselves with the cosmic harmony she embodies. In times of turmoil or uncertainty, they turn to her as a source of solace and guidance, finding strength in the cosmic order she represents. Despite her apparent detachment, Morighaen's relationship with her fellow deities is complex and intertwined. While she refrains from direct interference in mortal affairs, her presence serves as a silent counterbalance to the whims of her old pantheon. Should their actions threaten to disrupt the delicate balance of the cosmos, she may subtly influence events to restore harmony, though her hand remains unseen. As the Cosmic Enigma, Morighaen exists beyond the dichotomy of creation and destruction, chaos and order. She is a force of cosmic neutrality, guiding the universe with a silent wisdom that transcends mortal understanding. To her faithful, she offers not salvation or deliverance but the opportunity to glimpse the infinite mysteries of existence and find solace in the unfathomable vastness of the cosmos. The most fervent worshipers wish to see her vision for our reality come to life; a godless paradise. They believe that one day, Morighaen will wrap our world under her night-cloak, bringing about a beautiful, endless night. Stars would dot the sky bright enough to allow all life to flourish within nature, within cities, free of deific interference. Her night-cloak would prevent aenguls and daemons from pressing into the world, allowing the planet to exist as a paradisiacal terrarium for her own amusement and curiosity. Chp. 2: On People Core Beliefs The Revered Ancestors Followers of the Old Faith share some beliefs with their Adunic Orthodoxist brethren. Though, in rejection to Cannonist belief, and that of the Creator, followers of the Old Faith believe that their patron takes them when they pass: for those who worship Morighaen, when you pass, you return to the night’s sky, and join the stars, watching your ancestors beneath you. For those who worship Thrønn, the infinitely faced comes and gently ushers your Heartfire to silence, and draws it back into themself. For those who worship Grønn, you return to the dirt where you lay, your body feeding into the cycle of life and death, your spirit whispering in the wind. Similar to Adunic Orthodoxy, there is an emphasis placed on the spirits of old: both those venerable legends of the past, in all walks of Adunic lore, legend, and history, and those closer to home: more venerable in your own hallowed halls, and family lines. The Founders In the eyes of followers of the Old Faith, Harren and Sarai are revered for their love and intrinsic qualities. Despite the Creator's rejection and abandonment, adherents express gratitude towards their progenitors, embracing their flaws and the dual-cursed nature they bestowed upon their descendants. While acknowledging the complexities of their legacy, followers find solace and pride in their parentage. The advancements and achievements of the High Kingdom, fostered by Harren and Sarai's leadership, are remembered fondly within the Old Faith. Their union, symbolizing the bond between Elf and Man, is celebrated for granting the Adunians longevity and prosperity. However, followers lament the empire that emerged from their legacy, reminiscent of the Holy Oren Empire's divisive impact on the Adunian people, particularly evidenced by the fracturing at the Battle of Winterhold. The Trinity The second set of major ancestors chronologically, and the chief ones in the Adunic Orthodox Rite, are the Trinity of Elendil, Maria, and Braen. A major difference between the Adunic-Orthodoxy, and the Old Faith, is the lack of recognition of the Trinity. Followers of the Old Faith, who stayed nomadic, vagrant, and loose did not experience the same difficulties or kinship with Elendil, Maria, or Braen, nor witness their actions in its fullness, or feel the effects of their efforts truly, as they were not for them. This is not to say that those in the Old Faith would not venerate their efforts in any respect. But, in the way that the Doethion is about Wise Men and Ancestors, the Old Faith would recognize the Founders, and likely think of the Trinity as part of the Doethion. The Doethion The final group of ancestors are the Doethion, or Wise Men. These are the equivalent to Saints among the Adunians, and are made up of all those Adunians who passed on into the next world and, as is customary for all those who are not bound by some other fate for the good of the people, remained in the Soulstream to aid their progeny. To join the Doethion in death to guide one’s ancestors is viewed as a final duty and oath to the Adunic people that all should make, and to sacrifice the ability to join the ancestors is often taboo, though it is accepted as a noble sacrifice in certain cases, such as that of the Templars. This is why the study of deific magics and magics that corrupt the soul are exceedingly rare among the Adunians, and while small bands of Adunic holy mages (especially Templars of the Aengul Malchediael, also known as Saint Michael to many Humans and Adunians, and is counted among by that name) are common, and often kept around, the choice to join one of those groups is an extremely difficult one for an Adunian to make, and is never taken lightly. While all Adunians who pass on and enter the Soulstream are members of the Doethion, some are worshiped more widely than others. Each clan or house will tend to have certain ancestors who they hold in high esteem, and then there are ones that are held in esteem by all Adunains. Small Prayers are often written to them asking for intercession, along with the greater rites for weddings, funerals, and invoking the spirits of the dead. Rejecting the Creator The story of the Adunian origin is as old as time itself. From Horen came Harren, who loved Sarai, an elf. The two consummate their union and so their tribe did as well. The first Adunians came from this union, and, in disgust at the twice-cursed people, the Creator turned his back on the Adunians, and for much of Adunian history, so did the other descendant races. For Cannonist Adunians, their origin is somewhat a source of shame. In the early Iladunian empire, when Adunians settled into Kingdoms and Empires and began their crusades, the people were repentant for something beyond their control. While these early empires began to organize into religion, to beg for forgiveness, and seek unity and solemn reprieve with their kinsmen, the Old Faith offered an alternative. The Old Faith began amongst bowies and their family units. While the seeds and stage were set for the Idunic empire, not all Adunians were part of that empire. Amongst the trees, those fathers, and mothers, and their children, like a mass-hysteria, or shared delusion, began to share the prophetic visions of a figure. Morighaen did not speak, not with words, but through an empathic link and images. Her fascination for mere mortals was felt through this bond; where their Creator had turned on them, the Adunic people had an admirer. During run-ins with fellow bowies and trades with their kinsmen was there the slow realization of the breadth of this shared delusion. This lent credence to her… shared themes of stars and the night, of a great, ethereal, otherworldly face smiling down upon the chosen Adunian people. Their fathers passed looking down on them from the night’s sky… these delusions were not just delusions. While the Ildunic empire set their seeds, those who chose to wander rode their horses through steppes and frosted forestscapes, and in their dreams, would feel sermons and the beckoning of a curious god, and her siblings. Bump in the Dark Those who followed the Old Faith venerate the Old Three. Grønn is responsible, and takes ownership, for creatures within the domain of nature. He claims responsibility for deep rooted trees, swaying rushes, the birds that chirp in their branches. Those who hunt, forest, and gather thank Grønn for providing his creations to sustain us and are careful not to waste the gifts of the Green Father. Similarly, Thrønn claims the domain of mortals, and those of the descendant races. Not in spite of the Creator, but more so in tandem. Their shadow does permeate all creatures and things, but the Infinitely Faced is especially curious of, and responsive to, the descendant races. For all good and bad actions taken, Thrønn observes and commentates, judging and observing, from just out of the light. Morighaen herself does not lay claim to any creation. She herself is an indifferent observer. She finds life to be a curious marvel, and seemingly, is a fan of the work of the Creator even if the Creator does not like all of his own work (ie. Adunains). She would prefer to see a world where those creations of the Creator may act freely without the taint of outside influence. To that end, none of the Old Gods claim any Darkspawn as theirs. When Iblees tricked the world, and cursed the four brothers, they witnessed the Undead and fell-creations that Iblees had summoned. They admired the fervor of the four brothers; their perseverance in the face of insurmountable, deific power was impressive for mortals. To that end, when the Old Three chose to patronize them, if allowed in their practices, they too reinvigorated their own hatred for those that skulk and pray ruin onto ordinary lives. This is practical as well, for those who follow the Old Faith. Many of its worshipers were Northmen, Highlanders, and Bowies that lived either a nomadic, fringe lifestyle, often plagued by frost-witches and creatures of the night, or kept sentinel-vigils in great stone cities in the frost, watching for the tide of Undead in day’s past. There is simply no place for those beyond redemption in the Old Faith. A House Divided Bowies has always been the term attributed to those Adunians who were nomadic, did not settle, who preferred their horses and tents, or light-holdings, that they could easily come and go from. Their namesake, the bowie knife, a fixed-blade that functioned as both a weapon and everyday tool, is synonymous with the people who still carry and use it daily as a symbol of their rugged frontiersman ship and wanderlust. At one point, it could be said that all Adunians were bowies. With the dawn of the Ildunic Empire however, many would trade in their small family units, clans, and tribes, and give into the promises and comforts that city life, and settling, could provide. The decision to stay in their self-contained units was not an easy one, though, it was not one of great consequence either. The brotherhood amongst Adunians was not easily destroyed by one’s decision to come, or to go. This delineation in life-style marked the cultural differences of the two groups though, and similarly, marked the religious differences. When the Ildunic Empire fell, and the Ildunic empire was forced across the sea, persecution of bowies was equally felt. After all, they were simply wilder Adunians, arguably: a dirtier second-class citizen. While following at a distance, the bowies would follow their brethren, and with that, the shadow of the Old Faith quietly crept with Adunians. Struggling for cultural identity in the new worlds, some Adunians would convert to the Old Faith: the shattered people finding some comfort in their old ways, and the consistency of the God who truly loves them appealing. When Winterhold was established in Westfall by Duke Artorious Elendil, the Adunian people found themselves pulled into a center again. For the first time since the Ildunic empire had fallen, the people were convening and trading in Adunian stores and bowies would visit their brethren to trade goods and tales. It felt like the good old days, before the fall. Fathers, organized priests of the Old Faith, wandered and spoke their oral tales, unraveling mysteries lost overseas in communion with their Pantheon of Three. Even some highlanders, who stayed in Winterhold, were interested in the alternative religion and philosophies of the Old Faith. For the first time, the Old Faith was actually in the spotlight, and a mainstay, common-place belief amongst Adunians. As Cannonism rose to prevalence among mankind, accompanied by the emergence of prophets, saints, and orders extolling the virtues of human supremacy and the One True God, tensions simmered. Cannonism sought to unite humanity under its banner, yet amidst this upheaval, the Old Faith experienced a resurgence among the Adunian and Highlandic people. Highlanders endured derogatory treatment as "disgusting savages," while Adunians, viewed as "half-elves" with two curses, faced discrimination as second-class citizens. These irreconcilable differences, amongst other reasons, sparked rebellions, swiftly suppressed under a united human banner, but leaving behind two distinct factions: the repentant Adunians and Highlanders forgiven by Godfrey Horen I for their transgressions, and those opposed to Cannonism—who chose to embrace their nomadic heritage once more and become bowies. Bowies, emblematic of the fragmented Adunic people, embody the spirit of Adunia—solemn responsibility and enduring resilience. In the same vein that "no Adunian dies in their bed," by remaining light and free, bowies defy tyranny simply by embracing their freedom. While the beliefs and ways of life differ household by household, family by family, clan by clan amongst bowies, the Old Faith found prevalence amongst these scattered bands. For those who still venerated the old ways, disdain could be found for those who chose to live under their oppressors, still bitter at being forced away from their ancestral forests at the dawn of the Ildunic empire. The wisest of the Old Faith could respect the choice to live in a semblance of unity, even if it was at the cost of cultural identity. Both those who stay, and those who wander, ultimately, ensured the survival of the Adunic people. Even in time, those who stayed ultimately crumbled away with their walls and holds, just as castles and legacies tend to do. Jon Marsyr, a famous and notable bowie, was an Adunian who established their people once again, now as the Numedanian. While still a people seeped with Cannonism, those of the Old Faith find they can live in a quiet-existence alongside their brothers, if, only, for a sense of a people united once more. Syncretistic, Pragmatic, and Practiced Given that the Old Faith largely survived through oral-tradition and some hidden away scrolls, the Faith has persevered through rearing its members, and bringing them up in practice of the Old Faith. It’s generally not a religion that seeks to spread its message evangelistically, nor is it a word to be pushed onto others. Those that seek the Old Faith will find it. The Old Faith shares much in the way of Adunic-Orthodoxy in that the ancestors, and the past, are emphasized. It is important to have role models and guidance from those who walked before you: we should acknowledge the past and use it as a lens to move forward for the better. In that way, both those greatest heroes and darkest villains in one’s line have equal say, in that we should understand what made our heroes great, and villains evil. To that end, the Old Faith, because many of its followers often live in single-family units, or small clans, revering those who came before us, there is not much preaching that goes on. While the messages of Morrighaen, Thrønn, and Grønn are universal, it does little to tell a stranger about how wonderful your great-grandfather was without distilling the wisdom of their stories. Similarly, those of the Old Faith are often more interested in finding commonality amongst belief instead of overriding the beliefs of those before them. The Old Faith had long revered Druii, for instance: Grønn has a clear identity as Father of the Forests, and is thought of to simply be the Aspects Undivided. Those who follow Grønn will more than likely serve better to protect the ideals of Grønn, and the kingdom of nature, than to disparage Druii and argue over the minutiae of differences directly between the Old Faith, and Druidism. Lastly, the Old Faith is largely a decentralized religion. Many of the practices and followings differ between people, families, and clans, with differences in songs, poems, stories, and endings. At one point, the Old Faith did have a stronger sense of hierarchy amidst the “Fathers of the Old Faith”, who were Heartfire wielding guardians of the traditions and beliefs of the Old Faith. Since the practice of Heartfire has waned into obscurity, there is no true-organizational body of the Old Faith. It is more important to practice good faith and belief in the Three, and your Ancestors, than organize and structure. Chp. 3: On Mysticism Gaesa In the way that the Old Faith reveres and understands Morrighaen as the most powerful in their pantheon, many within the Faith will undertake a gaes (sometimes spelt gaess, or gaesa). A gaes is an idiosyncratic taboo, or self-imposed ritual-- something that you absolutely must do, or never do. To undertake a gaes is not a light, or easy decision. Often, a gaes is sworn under cover of night, at a place closest to the stars, or where the canopy of night is all one can see. Originally, gaes were only utilized by those who revered and sought the Indifferent Mother’s favor. Many would consider this to be a wasted effort; one cannot tempt the Mother of Fates into action. But, even still, those who swore their gaes to Morrighaen found themselves, at least in self-reports, braver and more effective. They felt as though in dire circumstances, they found their ways easier. These self-reports spread the idea of a gaes from something only the most fervent of Morrighaen’s chosen would undertake, to a much more common superstition. Some examples of gaes that someone may undertake are as follows: “I will never refuse a meal from a woman.” “At a crossroad of life, I plant a flower.” “I will never introduce myself by my first name.” “Speak your fears before passing running water.” “I will never speak ill of the dead.” “Always leave a coin for your bartender.” To undertake a gaes, and break it, is to invite only the most calamitous and urgent of ruin upon yourself. In bowie folk-lore and Old Faith oral tales, some heroes will take two gaes to bring a greater boon of luck. That said, many tales end with a contradiction of the two gaes spelling the end for the hero, or, the hero failing to uphold their one beholden belief. As said before; a gaes is never to be undertaken lightly, and only should reflect that which is in your control. A gaes may be “I will never travel with someone carrying an arbalest” but never “No one can ever have an arbalest”. It is-self imposed, and sacred. Erythian Stars (Click me for link to the old lore) Introduction Erythian Stars are simply mystically empowered glass orbs centered by a rare gem that display either sight, sound, or emotion present on the opposite end of two connected Stars, for either mundane purposes such as checking in with a friend that lives far away or for more extreme purposes such as overwatching the border of a known area harboring great evil. Forging A Star Foring a star is relatively simple, but the cost of creating one is great. All that is needed is a glass orb around the size of a head, a valuable gem such as an emerald or diamond within its center, and a willing participant. The participant must sacrifice either their sight, hearing, or capacity to feel emotion on any powerful level and bind the sacrificed sense as well as a small fragment of their soul to the object, permanently binding the emotion or sense to the newly forged orb. While this requires a fair bit of study into the soul and its workings, the damage done is minimal and does not create any form of phylactery of the sort as the soul’s severed part turns into energy to power the orb. As a result only one Star can be made per person, and anyone that is used in the orb’s creation will be mildly affected by holy magics that cause damage to beings with damaged or irregular souls. Finally, the orb does not gain any durability, so it’d be as easy as shattering glass to destroy it, making these useful orbs quite costly. Stars Of Andun The Stars of Andun, or Stars of Emotion, do as the name implies and links the emotions of those on either end of the two-way system. If anyone were to grab onto one star, they’d feel either nothing - as in most cases - or either the emotions of the person holding onto the other star, entirely replacing their own for the duration. Similar to the other Stars, a link must be formed by having the creators of each star come together and willingly unify the two artifacts, the link being unbreakable and irreplaceable when formed. Stars of Cearm Finally, the Stars of Cearm, or Stars of Sound, transfer sound between two orbs in a radius around it instead of vision or emotion. Touching these stars have no special effect unless both are touched at once, in which case the user will not hear anything they’d normally hear, but rather whatever the person on the opposing Star heard, and vice versa. As with the other Stars, a link is required between two Stars. Stars Of Ansíen The Stars of Ansíen are ones designed with the intent of viewing an area, the area being either another Erythian Star or a Tower of Sántorr. Two linked Erythian Stars would act as if the two users of the mystical orbs were in the same room as one another, their vision being projected on either end. The two Stars must be linked with each creator’s willing consent and both stars present in the same area, effectively melding the two gems into one half of the same whole. The benefit of this is that the opposite gem can view the area where they’re located by simply looking at the other star, while the downside is that no sound or other senses pass through the star, making it only useful for visual use. The other scenario in which a Erythian Star would be classified as a Star of Ansíen would be linking a star to a Tower of Sántorr, or a “Viewing Tower” in common terms. This requires the Starforger to bring the Star to a functioning Tower of Sántorr’s peak where the Star can be linked to the tower. After doing so, the Star will display a similar all-around view of the area around the tower. Tower of Sántorr Finally, a Tower of Sántorr is a megastructure that appears in the world as an anomaly, the creation and requirements of what is and isn’t being unknown to both the first Starforgers as well as the common world as well. Instead, these towers seem to form out of anything, including the tallest tree in a forest, a guard tower in a city, or even the highest hill in the countryside. As a result finding one is near impossible without some form of supernatural aid, and creating one is an even more impossible task. However it’d seem in times of dire need that these towers in one way or another reveal themselves. Heartfire (Click me for link to the old lore) In the ancient realms of Adunia and the Highlanders, there existed a magic known as Heartfire—a divine gift bestowed upon mortals by Thrønn, the Impartial. This sacred flame, drawn from the depths of one's own essence, held the power to ward off evil, illuminate the darkness, and bestow protection upon oneself and allies. At its core, Heartfire was a manifestation of the inner vitality and resilience of the human spirit. Practitioners of this magic could wreath themselves in an ethereal flame, warding off the chill of the night and repelling malevolent forces. Additionally, they could extend this protection to objects and weapons, imbuing them with the same divine light. One of the most profound abilities granted by Heartfire was the capacity to heal and restore vitality. By stoking the flames within themselves or others, practitioners could close wounds, neutralize poisons, and cleanse the body of toxins. However, this power came at a cost—as the inner flame was spent, so too was one's own vitality. To replenish their strength, Heartfire users would seek solace in the warmth of fires, drawing upon their radiant energy to restore their vigor. They could also kindle the flames within others, returning them to a state of health and vitality. Yet, the misuse or overuse of Heartfire carried dire consequences. Excessive expenditure of the inner flame could lead to a darkening and brittleness of the body, akin to a tree consumed by fire from within. This ashen decay would start at the extremities, causing numbness and brittleness, and if left unchecked, could result in catastrophic consequences. In Old Aegis, Adunic and Highlandic wanderers and monks who revered the Old could utilize this power for true goodness. Heartfire could not harm God’s creations: only those of Iblees, of the Night, that shy away from lightness. Lost to time as the Adunic identity shifted, it was once restored in Anthos, and used to face the wraiths and liches around Mali’nor. It has since faded once again into time, receding into obscurity and esoterism. People who worship the Old Faith however have eyed templarism with some curiosity. The magic of Malchediael looks to those who remember, or have heard, of Heartfire as a successor of sorts. Some speculate Malchediael is the reflection of Thrønn to those righteous of heart, manifested, and the relationship is a positive feedback loop for righteousness, fervor, and glory-seeking.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ THE BURNING OF WHITEHALL ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ I: THE GLUTTONY IN DARK One hundred minas. Seax. Father’s old gambeson. Scarf. Favorite fur hat, woven by mother. Silent as a fox, the pig-nosed, chubby young lad prepared this bundle of small possessions in the dim light of the slowly dying hearth fire set by mother. Enough was enough, and Milonir of Whitehall could tolerate no more. Tomorrow was going to be the biggest day of little Milonir’s life. He would prove to his father and everyone who laughed at him that he was a real man, and a true warrior. Papa would see, they’d all see. But now was the time rest. Not without second supper, of course. See, it had been a habit of Milonir’s for the last few years to collect a second serving of supper after mother and father had fallen asleep. They certainly knew, on account of young Milonir’s drastic weight gain. Mother, at least, said little about it. Father on the other hand, was not so silent about his disdain for Milonir’s weight, and often made sport of the subject. Vegetable soup again. He had done this a million times; harking the leftovers and cleaning plates when no one was looking. Perhaps it was because it was late, or perhaps he was too comfortable with his habit. Milonir, careless as he was, had managed to knock over the pot of soup. While this alone would be cause for some small concern, the loss of second dinner was not what caused the horrified expression overtaking his visage. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ II: THE FOOL OF FLAME He had not only managed to spill his second dinner, but a number of coals too at the base of father’s clan tapestry. And to punish him for his gluttony, gods beyond his control saw it fit that the tapestry was to be set ablaze before he could act. Milonir could only stare in panicked horror as the tapestry that had been in his father’s clan for generations was devoured by intense, contagious flames. What could he do against such an enraged flame? The blaze would claim not only this prized tapestry, but now soared to the thatching of their home. The thatch house began to cough sparks in all directions like an angry blacksmith pounding away at an anvil. Growing, growing, growing. Completely optionless, despaired Milonir hurried out of the shabby little thatch home as fast as his pubescent legs would take him. It was surprising in this state that he was even able to manage that. A good distance away from the home, Milonir froze in abject, paralyzing horror at the sight before him. Everything he knew, all of his memories, and his very childhood were set ablaze in the inferno. His family raggedly stumbled outside, awoken from the commotion and smoke. Mother and father, covered in ash and coughing, doggedly made for Milonir’s side. Mother, through her infinite love, appeared confused, betrayed, completely heartbroken. Father’s expression told a different story. The bleeding emotions of righteous rage, betrayal, and a satisfying confirmation that he was right gripped his visage. The family blade gripped within his white knuckles told it all. No words were exchanged, yet Milonir squeaked “No, no,” barely mustering the words. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ III: THE COWARD'S WAY OUT Panic overtook him, and Milonir backed away from his kin, like a desperate, cornered animal. Run. All he could do was run. With his bundle of possessions under his armpit, Milonir escaped into the pale, cold moonlight. Not stopping to look back at the product of his foolishness, Milonir noticed a much brighter orange glow out of the corner of his eye. Whitehall burned. His legs carried him as far as they would. Echoes throughout the valley could be heard; panicked voices familiar to Milonir, and the thundering masses of timber that fell in on themselves. They slowly dissipated until all was silent and dark. Run. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Whitehall burns. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ IV: THE ACCIDENT It was an accident. He didn’t mean it. What had he done? It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t mean for this to happen. Young Milonir had proven to Whitehall that their words were right. That Milonir was exactly what they said he was. A useless, fat pile of shit. Reality set in. Milonir stopped only to vomit the vegetable soup he had eaten earlier. Everything he knew and loved was ripped from him that night. He was alone in the dark forest, left with nothing. All he could do was keep running until dawn broke. The bustle of Haense lie before him. A new day. Milonir would make this right. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not in a year, or even ten. But he would make it right. He swore it. He swore it a million times. Milonir would right the wrongs of the past.

* From ages 10-14 Charelle began her studies into becoming a Jovenaar while still trying to hold onto the little child-hood she had left before reforming into a woman. It had been some time since her father Erwin Bishop passed away from an Orenian execution. Charelle, who loved her father dearly, was still filled of grief; locking herself away in her room throwing away all that brought her joy and instead putting all her attention into her studies in hopes the pain would seep away into the note and pages of her work. At 13 she began rehabilitating from life out of her room with learning how to bake; as her sister Heleana was soon to be married to a Savoyard noble and move out of the Manor, someone had to replace her as the family cuisinest. Though it was grievous, Charelle's soul would slowly grow to it’s fierce self thought, viewing the world in a new light.

Main Charactrer Identity Name: Dr.[Gunder] Antaris Nicknames: Dr, Antaris, Dr. Antaris, Gunder Age: 35 Gender: Male Race: Highlander Status: Single Main Character Description Height: 5'9 Weight: 201lbs Body Type: Decent Eyes: Brown Hair: Dirty Blonde Skin: White Markings/Tattoos: Scratched out left eye Health: Aside from missing an eye, fine Personality: Kind, Nice Main Character Other Things Alignment*: N/A Deity*: N/A Religion: N/A Alliance/Nation/Home N/A Job/Class: Science Title(s): Doctor Profession(s): Alchemist, Scientist, Special Skill(s): He can brew strange concoctions Flaw(s): Can't see that well due to a missing eye Main Character Maaaaaaagiiic Current Status: N/A Arch-type: Conjuration Sub-Type: Illusion Rank: T1 Weakness(es): N/A Strength(s): N/A Current Spell(s): N/A Main Character Weaponry Fighting Style: Stab Trained Weapon[s]: Knife w/ Poison Favored Weapon: Poisoned Knife Archery: N/A Split Persona Identity Name: Gordon Rammet Nicknames: Gordon, Ugly, Hideous Description Height: 4'10 Weight: 230lbs Body Type: Strong, well built, but terrible posture and a bit stout Eyes: Brown Hair: Dirty Blonde Skin: Welts Markings/Tattoos: Scratched out left eye, big nose with nose hairs sticking out Health: Fine aside from a scratched out eye Personality: EEEEVIL Strength: He is strong enough to beat up a strong Uruk, but not an Olog Life Style Alignment*: Evil Deity*: N/A Religion: N/A Alliance/Nation/Home N/A Job/Class: N/A Title(s): N/A Profession(s): Thief, Beating people up Special Skill(s): Uppercuts Flaw(s): He is really ugly and evil land mean and is easily pissed off Maaaaagic: N/A Weaponry Fighting Style: Punching Trained Weapon[s]: Fists Favored Weapon: Fists Archery: Flying Uppercut Biography: Gunder Antaris, as a young person, was always trying to make potions and mystical brews out of things he found in his garden. He always used to venture the nearby woods looking for plants and picking them up. Afterwards he tried to mix stuff together and crush it and put it in water and see if it would do anything. Half the time he made something poisonous. When he became an older man he went to the University of Petrus where he studied to become an alchemist and also became a conjurer through...other means. He graduated, got his doctorate, and then went on to make a miniature lab in his parent's house. Dr. Antaris made a breakthrough in Alchemy and Conjuration when he made a potion that could change your identity and physical form. He made enough batches to last him his life, until when he used the ingredients from a different source they made poison. He scoured the place where he found the ingredients for months and realized they weren't what he thought they were. He had no clue what had contaminated the plants but whatever it was made his potion work. His split personality was revealed every time he drank the potion. He would go unconcious and wake up as the man he called "Gordon Rammet." Afer he realised how strong Gordon was after having a run-in with an Uruk he knew he could rely on changing into him to beat people up. He always changes to Gordon or back to Gunder at random times, when it was was normally indicative of how angry or happy he was. If Gordon was elated he would turn into Gunder, if Gunder was pissed off he'd turn into Gordon. Screenshots http://imgur.com/uM4ubhr - Gordon http://imgur.com/G0gDYbj - Gunder So AT team anything need be done?

Finn No-Name Nicknames: None yet. Age: 25 Gender: Male Race: Human Highlander Status: Alive and determined. Description Height: 5'6'' Weight: 172 Body Type: Stocky Eyes: Green Hair: Dark Red, slicked back Skin: Light Skin, slightly tanned Markings/Tattoos: None (yet) Health: Normal, no injuries or sickness Personality Archetype- Tearatologist Studying monsters, to destroy them. -read anything pertaining to monsters -constantly seek better ways to destroy them Trouble - Us vs Them Sees it as Humanity vs Iblees, Darkness, Monsters, Whatever is threatening humanity. -makes him slightly bigoted against other races - will not willingly fight with other races - dislikes buying/selling to other races Other Characteristics: I Came Prepared - Got potions, smokebombs, a gold tipped stake, a hatchet, a net, 15 feet of spider silk rope, enchanted leather coat, steel tipped shoes, knife, some garlic jerky, a tent and a bag to hold all them in without me being weighed down. How yah like meh now? - learn enchanting and alchemy -and tinkering for mechanical items Let’s Party - Never hunt alone. Also, drink large amounts of alcohol to soothe the pain of losing your wife to the forces of darkness. - Keep a party of at least 4 humans when hunting. - Dat damage bonus. It’s Not Paranoia if They're Out to Get Me - Worried constantly that creatures of darkness, necromancers, Ikuras, and Giant Miniature Space Hamsters are out to get him. Does not discuss his abilities or history with people he doesn’t trust implicitly. Weaponry Fighting Style: Stab or Burn it until it stops moving. Also recently added Crossbow for long range encounters. Trained Weapon: None Favored Weapon: Blessed Ferrum Dirk Archery: Little skill, but training Biography Parents: Missing Siblings: None Wife: Dead Children: None Extended Family: None Pet(s): None

Character Card of Q. Campbell Character Name: Quinlan O'Keefe-Campbell Nicknames: Quin, Quinny. Age: 36 Gender: Male Race: Human (Adunian) Status: Alive n' stuff Height: 6'1 Weight: 197 lbs Body Type: Big, broad shouldered and burly, like a football player. Eyes: Light Blue Hair: Dark coffee brown. Skin: Slightly Tanned Markings/Tattoos: Scars on chest from wolf mauling. Health: Fairly Healthy. Personality: He has an optimistic, humourous attitude towards life. On the surface a sarcastic and ironic kind of person, underneath, a steely determination to keep his loved ones safe. He is starkly loyal to his superiors and to his wife and family. Quinlan is one who often speaks whatever is on his mind, often construing it in a very cynical or twisted way. When leading drills, he's like that sarcastic wise cracking substitute teacher you had that one time whom everyone hated the guts of. Inventory: <> A Steel Claymore (Two handed blade) <>An Arbalest (Big crossbow) <>Lute Alignment*: Konigreich of Aesterwald, The Aesterkorp Deity*: The Creator Religion: True Faith Alliance/Nation/Home: Aesterwald Job/Class: Soldier, HalbBruden of the Aesterkorp Title(s): HalbBruden, Jager. Profession(s): Swordplay, Archery, Lute playing. Special Skill(s): Game hunting, music, et cetera. Flaw(s): No sense of organization, he has a scattered mind. He can also be very stubborn. Weaponry Fighting Style: Quinlan takes advantage of his size and strength to overpower his opponents in melee. Though he prefers to get the advantage on them with an arbalest if he can. Trained Weapon: Claymore, Longsword, Crossbow/Arbalest, Longbow Favored Weapon: Claymore and Arbalest. Archery: Meh-ish. Biography Parents: Byron Campbell, Unknown Mother Siblings: Edrik Campbell (Anawkin52), Catherine Campbell (TheH0neyb33), Desmond Campbell (Arzar). Spouse: None Children: Ciara Campbell (emilyathegreat), Adrian Campbell (Theidlemuse) Extended Family: Eoghan Campbell (Adoptive Chieftain), Scotty O'Keefe (Uncle) Pet(s): n/a History [WIP] BIRTH The birth of Quinlan Campbell is a vague one, his father Byron O'Keefe was no stable man. Not one to keep a family. Old man Byron in his younger days had slept around quite a bit, sired a few bastards. One such bastard he'd been approached with alongside one of his former dalliances. The mother of the newborn child forced the baby into Byron's care, and was never seen again. And so the life of Quinlan began, with a father whom never intended him to exist and a mother whom did not want him. Byron was a wanderer as well and not one to be tied down by the prospect of fatherhood, and so he left his son with his brother, Scotty O'Keefe, in the frigid southern town of Vaerhaven. CHILDHOOD As a child, Quinlan grew up amongst the likes of many other Adunians of various clans. His home was in Campbell hall, a big tower-like structure in the back of town. His oldest memories include that of lectures from the Adunian Archfather Tarus, learning of the old gods and the old faith. Young Quinlan was a quiet creature, a stark contrast to his Uncle and main guardian, Scotty. The tall, booming and often drunk patriarch of the O'Keefe Campbell line berated Quinlan for his softness. A proud O'Keefe is no weasel! He is a bear! Scotty would proclaim. A bear is formidable, he stands headstrong in the face of his foes, a weasel uses deceit and trickery, that is a despicable way of life. And so, Quinlan was taught that all a boy needs to become a man is a strong arm and a brave heart. Quinlan grew up without many friends for the most part, save for Torrah Campbell, son of Eoghan. A girl his age adopted into the clan. By adopted they meant kidnapped as a child from the McHarnishes of course, but there was no reason for Quin to know that. Torrah and Quinlan considered each other like siblings as well as close friends, and the two would get up to all sorts of mischief. RITE OF MANHOOD Clan Campbell was a tad more harsh on it's children than other Adunian clans in the sense that boys at the age of 15 had to prove themselves in order to be considered men. This trial involved trekking out into the cold snowy wilderness outside the walls of Vaerhaven and slaying a wild wolf. This was accomplished through both cunning and strength, and all Campbell boys were expected to accomplish this. Despite the sentiments of his uncle, Quinlan was no killer and no warrior. He certainly wasn't the pinnacle of physical strength. He was sent outside the safe walls of Vaerhaven alone for the first time shortly after his fifteenth birthday. It was a week of surviving on his own before Quinlan found a wolf, a majestic creature of a pure white pelt. The adolescent boy was terrified of the idea of having to face it. He ended up trapped the beast after laying down a pit trap with smoke from burning hare's flesh at the bottom. When he returned to Vaerhaven's walls, he convinced Scotty the wolf had died by his blade. YOUNG ADULTHOOD AND LOVE Quinlan spent his next few years in relative anonymity. Though one thing had really changed, his old friend and someone he had considered his sister had grown into a very attractive young woman. Torrah and Quinlan were both eighteen now, they celebrated the birthday of the former quietly, in Vaerhaven's cozy tavern with a pint of ale. It was there Quinlan asked her if she would do him the favour of accompanying him on a date. It was a foreign yet familiar concept, the two had been spending time alone with each other for years, but neither was too naive to realize this would be a different experience entirely. The first date was a simple affair, young Quinlan had no concept of glamour and had no concept of 'dinner and a play'. Instead he took her out to one of his favourite places, a simple stone menhir with a table, by a frozen lake outside of town. They shared a drab of whiskey and stared at the clouds, she kissed him. Though elated by his new found love, not all was well for Quinlan. News of the budding couple had reached the jealous ear of a resident member of another of Vaerhaven's Adunian clans, Cymrych Douglas. A love triangle was inevitable and the race to impress Torrah began. Cymrych was ingeniously subtle, often getting himself injured to play the pity card for Torrah. Quin knew nothing of subtly, he had been brought up by the man who could barely tell the difference between a 'P' and a 'q' in a book. The fact that Cymrych was a twin made it doubly furious. The Douglas twins gave Quin no end of grief, but it did not matter in the end, for Torrah was faithful to him. Loss, Recovery, and Loss Again Life with Torrah was content and peaceful for Quinlan. Two adjectives that would rarely describe his life in the years to come. At around the age of 18, Quin began to feel the looming presence of the Scourge, and setherien's menace. He had lived in the newly Renovated Keep of Ard Kerrack at the time with the rest of his Adunian kin. Adunia itself was in it's prime, having occupied the last previously owned by Kaedrin of House Chivay. However all was not well in the land of the tartan, as the aforementioned scourge had begun launching minor skirmishes and harassing strikes upon the kingdom. Fully grown and Able-bodied, Quinlan was expected to take up arms to fight off these raids. With Torrah fighting at his side, they came to blows with pale faced cultists and abominations with steel welded to their flesh. However as all of Adunia was soon to learn, these guerrilla strikes were merely the beginning. It all accumulated to one big conflict, the battle of Ildon. With the forces of Adunia ready to defend their home against a horde of cultists, unholy creatures and winged beasts. For Quinlan, it was his first experience of true battle. As swords clashed, and the sounds of courageous war cries and screams of agonizing pain screeched through the atmosphere, Torrah was snatched up by a daemon of eldritch wings, carried off. The war for Adunia had been won, but Quinlan had lost the biggest part of his life. His love. He spent the next full year looking tirelessly for her, as Adunians throughout the kingdom looked on with pity, wondering when the heartbroken young man would move on. It turned out however that he would not have to, at a steep price... Torrah Campbell returned. But not as the same person she was when the agents of Setherien snatched her away. Found huddled in the corner of an inn 2 years after her disappearance, she was a sorry sight. One missing hand, scars that marred her entire body in a grotesque mess, her hair falling out at it's foundations. Still young and naive and unable to heal or do anything to help, Quinlan and Torrah eloped from Adunia, settling in the remote elven town of Lenniel, far to the west. Torrah's mental state had deteriorated rapidly, and was showing signs of insanity. To Quinlan's dismay, it seemed that Torrah had been influenced with scourge like tendencies during her time in their captivity. As she became slowly more and more sinister. Setting elven trees alight, asking Quin to hire assassins to perform hits for her as if it were a casual requests, among others. The simple minded young man was no psychologist and no amount of pleading and coercion was able to revert the now scarred and grotesque Torrah from the dark shell of her former self she had become. And one day, she simply vanished. A New Beggining Following Torrah's final dissapearance, Quin was left with no more purpose in life. He spent a few more years in Lenniel, making his living as a hunter and developing a good reputation among the wood elves whom lived there. However, life had lost most of it's colour. It was age the age of 25 when the wanderlust set back in and Quin packed up his things, leaving his home to travel the roads once more, this time, to the land his people hated: Oren. The journey to the eastern plains of Anthos was fairly peaceful, Quin managed to reach the grand walls of New Abresi in quick time. The bustling streets, town criers and the city smell were foreign to him, having grown up as a country boy. It was there he met a man in a white tabard adorning a red cross, whom introduce himself as Theodoric Hamlen. Theodoric informed Quin that he was a member of the Holy Order of Saint Lucien. A knightly order devoted to defending the true faith of the human race. With no other real options open to him, Quin decided, on a whim, to join. The keep of Ard Krallach was a massive structure built into the side of a mountain under what was once the Grand Palace of Emperor Godfrey. And the Lucienist soldiers whom made their home in it were equally impressive. It was on his first day Quin met the stalwart but friendly Raigeki Kato, an eastern man and officer of the Holy Order. Raigeki got Quin acquainted with the people and the sights of Ard Krallach, as well as providing him with his own white and red tabard. Early life as a Lucienist was rigourous, but rewarding. Quin quickly made friends out of his Brothers in the order, and learned to be strong, good with a sword, and quick on his feet. But it wasn't with the order where his life truly took it's next dramatic turn. On an off day in the Captured Kha inn in Abresi, Quin sat. He often enjoyed the company of friends on days like these, but today was alone. Through the door came a woman, a pretty thing of dark red hair and emerald eyes, accompanied with her cousin, a raven haired woman of formidable height. Both were attractive, but it was the red haired lass, whom would later introduce herself as Ayallia Meridian, that Quin had his eyes on. After a rather embarrassing attempt to get in bed with her following giving them a tour of the city with the help of a Subudai tribesman, Quin parted ways with the lovely lass feeling rather turned down. However he didn't let it deter him from his goal. Torrah was gone forever. He was in a new country, with new friends and new family, it was time to find new love. After a few semi-successful attempts to get closer to Aya by spending time in her tailory shop, Quin successfully asked her out on a date. It was quite a date. Nearly a days worth of walking back to Vaerhaven, but it was worth the journey. Quin gifted Aya with the wolf pelt he'd won to earn his rite of manhood so long ago. They watched the stars from atop the masts of dwarven ships, and shared their first kiss. War and Married Life Fast forward to three years later, and Quinlan and Aya would be happily married and living a secure life together. Aya lived with her family, the Meridians, in a complex in Abresi. Quin stayed often though work often took him to the keep of Ard Krallach where he would serve among the Lucienists. The two did not spend as much time together as perhaps a normal couple should, but they cherished the moments they had. The idyllic lifestyle would not last, however. As trouble soon began to brew within Oren. -more to come- Artwork