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“Oh, great Beast, spirit of hunger and frost, Hear my plea beneath the moon's pale glow. From the shadows of the forest deep, I call upon your ancient might. Grant me the strength of the endless winter, The unyielding hunger that knows no bounds. Let your icy breath fill my lungs, And your relentless desire guide my soul. In your name, I embrace the darkness, In your name, I forsake the warmth. Oh, great Beast, heed my prayer, And bestow upon me your terrible power. For in the cold and in the night, Your will shall be my guide, And through your hunger, I shall rise, Bound forever to your eternal ice.” The outskirts of Haense were tainted with unspeakable horrors this night. Echoes of men screaming in sheer agony pierced the air, their desperate attempts to flee rendered futile. The darkened forest bore witness to their discarded remains, grotesquely strung about the trees like macabre ornaments. Thick mist and choking fog seeped from two vile monoliths hidden deep within the woods. These monoliths were adorned with decaying decor and feasted-on carcasses, reeking of death and despair. One monolith seemed to corrupt the very rock upon which it stood, a blight that spread like a disease. The other coiled around the trunk of an ancient tree, its twisted form reaching out as if to grasp the moon above, casting a sinister shadow over the cursed land. Beneath the ghastly light of the moon, the forest itself seemed to writhe and shudder. The air grew thick with the stench of rot and the palpable sense of dread. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves, seemed amplified, echoing the terror that now haunted Haense. That night, the land was no longer its own; it had been claimed by the sisterhood of frost. The monuments seemed to release faint whispers and echoes, the same things on repeat: "THE BANSHEE QUEEN" "THE BEAST BENEATH" À̴̡̧͉̦̺͚̣̼̼͉̳̼̘̳̺̪̖̑ͣ͆̏̾ͤ̃̌̅͠ͅp̵̶̢̭̦̦̟̈̃̓̀̄̃ͬ́t͓͇̥͒ͨͮ́ͣ̾̕͝ͅͅŗ͚̞͈ͬ̌ͣͦ̒̽ͧͅg̦͔͕̫̞̗̹̱͖͕̻̳̺̩̼͔͕̍ͪ̏ͬ̍̈͒ͦ̏̾ͯ̇ͅͅ_̧͈͈̳̣̫̀̏ǫ̸̻͈̘͍̘͉̗̳̇̋́ͦ̈́͐ͮͫ̾̀ͨ͒ͥͣ͡_̷̡͔̪̓̃̇͢n̨̨̳̞͓͔̻͎̟̳̔ͯ̑̃̿ͦ̓͆̀ͬ̉ͦ̂_͚̕ģ̶̷̡̛̘̬̙̻̾ͧ̔̉́̕̕͡͝u̵̡͇̦͕̱ͮ͗̇ͣ͡͞-̶̶̧̣̞͍̠͍͓̤͙̗͉̪̻̭̼̥͛ͮ̄ͥ̓ͮ́̒ͣ̿ͥͧ̾͌ͩ͛ͦ̽͑̽̓̿͘͡͝Ma͔̬̩_̨̠̙̰̠̻̙̯ͣ̑̀͐͗̆͑ͦ́͘͟͡ð̨̯̤̜̭̪͇̳̺̬̝͉̓ͭ̒͑̾ͯ̓͛́̐͛͌̉̽ͭͤ̓ͧ͘͝͞͝͠r̶̡̲̺̫̙̻͎̪̃̓ͥ͊ͬͧ͂̍ͣ͗̇̕̕
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On the fringes of Hohkmat, the night was pierced by a bone-chilling sound. The mournful cries reverberated through the streets, a relentless lamentation that seeped into the town's very essence, casting a pall of dread that smothered every corner. As darkness enveloped the town, its residents, ensnared in their terror, glimpsed shadowy figures draped in black robes gliding through the alleyways. These phantoms, their faces hidden, lurked in the shadows, dissolving into the darkness whenever a wary eye fell upon them, their presence more sensed than seen. The intrepid—or perhaps the damned—who dared to traverse the frigid, moonlit streets in pursuit of the source of these sinister occurrences might find themselves lured to a ghastly tableau. In a secluded glade, a grotesque monument of frozen horror awaited. This structure, an infernal fusion of ice and torment, stood drenched in blood and littered with bones. The ice seemed to pulsate with a malevolent vitality, its surface inscribed with intricate, arcane runes that whispered of ancient, forgotten rites. At the heart of the monument loomed a hideous sculpture—a writhing mass of countless faces, predominantly women, their features twisted in perpetual agony and despair. This ghastly vision was rendered even more nightmarish by the crimson streaks that marred its surface, evidence of recent, unspeakable atrocities. As the wind keened through the forsaken glade, carrying the murmurs of the damned, the runes seemed to flicker, casting a spectral glow that only intensified the overwhelming sense of dread. Those who stumbled upon this frozen nightmare would soon grasp that they had unearthed a dark secret, one that linked the town's recent horrors to an ancient malevolence lurking just beneath the surface. The monument stood as a stark testament and a dire warning, its bloodied ice narrating a tale of suffering, sacrifice, and the unseen forces that prowled the night in silence. À̴̡̧͉̦̺͚̣̼̼͉̳̼̘̳̺̪̖̑ͣ͆̏̾ͤ̃̌̅͠ͅp̵̶̢̭̦̦̟̈̃̓̀̄̃ͬ́t͓͇̥͒ͨͮ́ͣ̾̕͝ͅͅŗ͚̞͈ͬ̌ͣͦ̒̽ͧͅg̦͔͕̫̞̗̹̱͖͕̻̳̺̩̼͔͕̍ͪ̏ͬ̍̈͒ͦ̏̾ͯ̇ͅͅ_̧͈͈̳̣̫̀̏ǫ̸̻͈̘͍̘͉̗̳̇̋́ͦ̈́͐ͮͫ̾̀ͨ͒ͥͣ͡_̷̡͔̪̓̃̇͢n̨̨̳̞͓͔̻͎̟̳̔ͯ̑̃̿ͦ̓͆̀ͬ̉ͦ̂_͚̕ģ̶̷̡̛̘̬̙̻̾ͧ̔̉́̕̕͡͝u̵̡͇̦͕̱ͮ͗̇ͣ͡͞-̶̶̧̣̞͍̠͍͓̤͙̗͉̪̻̭̼̥͛ͮ̄ͥ̓ͮ́̒ͣ̿ͥͧ̾͌ͩ͛ͦ̽͑̽̓̿͘͡͝Ma͔̬̩_̨̠̙̰̠̻̙̯ͣ̑̀͐͗̆͑ͦ́͘͟͡ð̨̯̤̜̭̪͇̳̺̬̝͉̓ͭ̒͑̾ͯ̓͛́̐͛͌̉̽ͭͤ̓ͧ͘͝͞͝͠r̶̡̲̺̫̙̻͎̪̃̓ͥ͊ͬͧ͂̍ͣ͗̇̕̕
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Year 13 2A: Several travelers arrive to East-Fleet in preparation for a longer journey, lead by a man who calls himself a Prospector, a native to Almaris' underground depths. (Artist) The warm seabreeze of East-Fleet amused an old miner who walked along the crusted docks. He had a moment alone, enough to drink down something amber he bought at the tavern at Southbridge. He rubbed a flat thumb over the cheap label of 'Oaken Nectar', and let the empty bottle plop into the rising & falling tide. The bottle was pulled away by wave and wind, floating towards the horizon as puffs of ocean wind blew out a melody on the empty jug's lid. The men & woman Nale travelled with were still at South-Bridge, many of them seeking medical care for burns. "The surfacelands are crowded with all manner of new folk," Nale mused to some nameless dock-hand. He bartered for an hour or two, before securing a pier at the docks to use as a storage-point for the charted expedition. The prospector sat down in the new quarters which were tight and ramshackle. Filling out some papers, Nale made his plans to ship supplies from Haense to East-Fleet, and then to caravan them inland to the first quarry. Nale worked while he chattered to the dockhand, a rather gossipy boy. The young lad would be sure to tell others of this strange Prospector of the underworld. Those who strolled by Eastfleet would see a young dock-hand tending the ****-caked piers, a newly constructed storage site, busied cartographers, and an old Prospector who would introduce himself by the name of Nale o'Merphex. Nale says he is offering a job to those helping unload packages from Haense. [To interact with Nale, the Dock-Hand, or the storage, comment here or message me in-game if you are at East-fleet.]
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Relevant Resources: The Isles of Axios ~ Map As our battered ships ventured through the portal, leaving behind Apohet's annihilation, we laid eyes upon yet again unfamiliar territory. These were the Isles of Axios. Cartographers were quick to busy themselves with mapping the islands, and you were lucky enough to see one distributing their latest map. http://axios.droppages.com/index.html <- Interactive version, takes 20 seconds to load for the first time due to hosting. Upon further inspection, you notice that it is a portolan chart with converging rhumb lines. At the bottom right corner there is a compass rose surrounded by creatures, resembling animal spirits of some far eastern culture. [The map itself is RP valid, it is recommended that RP sketches be done based on this map] Backup Version (non-interactive, low-res): Disclaimer: Accuracy of the product may vary, its content is subject to change. Does not offer features such as co-ordinate tracking and player listings. The interactive version allows you to easily zoom and pan, I'll be adding layers in after the nations have further progressed. Edit: 'beta' testing layers. Please report any issues! http://axios.droppages.com/beta.html Please do message or reply if amendments need to be made, or perhaps you have a suggestion in mind. Change log:
