[I think of things like, 'Why is a biome evil?' Needless to say, I am hyped about the upcoming world creation myth engine. I wrote this before I knew such update was coming.]
The Ageless Realms
Rounded Continents
Excerpt from the book ‘History of Dwarven Steel’
Chapter IX – Scabrow prairies ...and it is said that Scabrow prairie, the perpetual and unimaginable horror of that place was the fuel powering the distillation of the dwarven spirit crystal clear. Delersholid was this distillery, her dwarves the raw material, and the spirit bottled there allowed the legendary events later. The legends, and how the fortress was founded there is covered elsewhere in this book, but to fully understand what they endured in the Scabrow prairies we must understand the prairie itself.
Year 343. Here comes the account of Shendemair the bard and the venturing to the dark tower. “In my utter foolishness and pride I ventured to the dark tower, to the home of the eminence Thograg, prophet of fear. He crushed me, and eventually I, not only witnessed unspeakable horrors, but performed them as well. Every moment of my waking life has been torture since, and my dreams even worse.”
It is believed Shendemair was the source of the following account, for Thograg was proud and would have liked an outside audience to his tales. According the tome of Azul-na-Bath Shendemiar was missing for 11 years so there would have been ample time for stories.
The Ageless Realms
Rounded Continents
Age of legends, year 144 Thograk preaches to the ragged creatures gathered at the Lith of the prairies with his deep divine voice. “The Rounded Continents are in turmoil, blood moon rises, blood will flow. Signs are everywhere, but your leaders are at loss. Did your lords curb the gruesome murders? Do they know what is happening? Do the wise know? No. They are a joke. An elaborate vision of engulfs the audience. Vision of hordes of trolls, goblins and other creatures. Thograk fights the horde with his wolf-headed sword and cuts off the chieftain’s arm. The vision clears and he pulls out bloody troll arm from a bag. Gasp and mutter. He hands the severed troll arm to the audience and say “What you saw in the vision, was what really happened. Oh, I indeed went there to cut off the snakes head.” “Even the wise, always ensuring their knowledge, are lost. They have resorted to making pacts and arrangements with the Trolls and goblins. It is clear that you cannot seek comfort or safety from your lords or the wise. “The truth is that everyone is at loss with these new events, and I tell you, this is just the beginning. War, terror, horror… it all has come to stay until a new balance is found. Dark times are ahead. Living under constant fear is unpleasant and depressing at best. Fear can paralyze you, fear can crush you. But the fear is here. There is no escape. Be afraid. Be very afraid. “My master is Grymwöir, a god. He offers you a way through these dark times. With his guidance as your beacon in the dark. Fear. Fear can be embraced and used, for good, or for bad. I can teach you how to live with fear but avoid the fear crushing you. I can teach you how to use your fear to survive and change things, and how to make your enemies whimper and falter. It is here to stay, so why not use it? “Give in to your fear, and he will be pleased. Allow the fear to creep in. Let yourself freak out and panic, and in that moment Grymwöir will be with you and decide for you, to fight or to flight. He takes away your burden of decision and responsibility. His might will protect those who deserve it, and if you freeze in panic and get butchered, it was his will too. Embrace your fears, and dedicate your lives to Grymwöir. For those who please him, receive his gift. He looks after those who heed him, he will not let them die. “Feel… allow the tremors… let the fear in. Let into your fears rise, and act upon the urge it pushes. Act them together. Become a mob, let the mob rule.
A voice from the crowd calls out “Stop this at once! If Arges of the iron halls hears of this, we might all hang!” Thograk, with his divine charm, ensures the speaker is pushed to madness. “Yes! Just like that. Give into your fears… Many here have jobs serving the dwarven halls, trading with them, many here look up to lord Arges, someone is surely bound to speak... He is old and bad tempered. His guards, the Ironhands, wield harsh vengeance and may even include your family… and your pet dog. Surely you may get into trouble because you are here. In fact, you most certainly will now that you spoke and got noticed… Oh, you will… Thograk hands that man the Ulvgrim (the sword with the wolf pommel) “...unless you make sure that no word gets back to lord Arges.” The man descends into a frenzied madness and charges against the evading crowd with darkness and murder in his eyes. Fear surges, survival, panic, violence... chaos spreads, and a divine engineered madness engulfs the crowd. In the mayhem old grudges and irrelevant fears emerge ten folded. People knife others in the back to get more room to avoid other maniacs, some cut throats of people that they are jealous of, suspicious of, disgusted of, afraid of. The mob descends to most brutal and primitive fighting, some with weapons, most with their fists, arms, legs, heads, teeth, fingers... Eventually the madness evaporates enough for the killing to stop, but the hotness of the blood, the pace of the heart, the thrill of the kill and the joy of being alive remains. Each survivor, in turns, comes to Thograk who heals their injuries while he declares. “Each of you survived because of your fear and the actions you took. Grymwöir’s blessing to you all is that you shall not feel remorse or guilt. Things were out of your hands and you did what had to be done, this is his wisdom to us. You shall not feel remorse or guilt for the events of tonight, or events you do out of fear in the forth. “You are now the children of Grymwöir and you will take this into your hearts. You will spread the way where you think it is needed and use your faith to your advantage. Each of you possesses great strength now, and you can do great deeds. Go and make the recent murders look lame, go and make yourselves the lords and ladies. Go and do what you want or must. Thograk blesses each person with Grymwöir’s might so that their actions will more likely grant them personal success. He collects Ulvgrim and sends the people on their way with the sign of Grymwöir (a distinguish hand gesture).
Later, on one of the bodies, one without an arm, he sews on the severed arm of the Troll chieftain to the stub. With his divine powers he brings the corpse back to life. “Body mutilated and gross, soul so foul, dodgy hunter of the dark Rise to reap the blood that seep, ripped throats your brief relief You are cursed with hate, and you will rape A man and a beast, your life’s no feast your one release your one peace is the death of all man so go and ban” He looks at the unconscious creature. “I shall call you… Glurtharg. You will remember your name when you wake up, but nothing else. These bodies… are your womb, your crib, and your mother. May Grymwöir’s terror be with you and your terror with him.” He left. Glurtharg came to be. Later, wild beatdogs grew very fat.
Those men are said to have become very powerful, but they were all betrayed for it was a curse they received and spread. Horrible torment that would not stop even on their deaths. Their souls would not be freed from their bodies on death. They would keep feeling the pain of their dead body, and the pain animating it. This division eventually brought down the race of men, they were ruined from inside out. The prairie henceforth was known as Scabrows, and things worse than nightmares took place there. From old trade caravan maps it is almost certain that the lith was upsream from the waterfall just half a league. A bit unclear when exactly, but some 900 years later group of hardy dwarves decided this same spot was good for their home. The rest, as they say, is history.
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Topic: Myth engine and why a biome is evil (Read 1335 times)