The Wolven Storm
S W O R D S O F F A T E
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory,
But far beyond my depth. My high-blown pride
At length broke under me, and now has left me,
Weary and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me.
~ William Shakespeare
And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory,
But far beyond my depth. My high-blown pride
At length broke under me, and now has left me,
Weary and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me.
~ William Shakespeare
The heavy mountain winds whip about you in a fevered frenzy as you draw your body more supine against your stead. Night had fallen quickly as it does this time of the year with no remorse or hesitation. The path ahead of you is long and winding, you alone in your journey across the old moutain passess. Somewhere up ahead you see a flicker, growing steadily larger as you approach. As you come closer what turns out to be an old oil lantern of dwarven make casts a scene in front of you. An old man sits on a fur mat. A tent composed of various furs behind him, and a mule with a large pack grazing nearby. The man looks up to you, his wrinkled face worn by years of travel and age, teeth marked yellow with the use of smokesong as he gives you a wide smile. He offers you a seat as he takes off a container that was heating above the small fire, and soon he begins to pour the liquid into two old wooden cups.
You know his type, your mother warned you of them when you were young. A tinkerer, the traveling merchants that dot the land. Thieves, peddlers, scavengers, storytellers and tricksters. You never trust a tinkerer, they are men of mischief. But are they not also the harbingers of adventure? Do not all the old tales and legends begin with the young heroes finding one such wandering merchant who sets them down the path. Was it not a tinker that give Leofel the rope which he used to capture the Sun? Besides the man looks harmless enough, with his wrinkled skin and milky eyes. So you sit down with him and take the wooden cup he offers from his worn and calloused hands. Tentatively you raise the cup to your mouth and take the first sip. The strong taste of Navariarin Fire Water seeps into your mouth burning its way down your throat bringing warmth on the cold night before it rests as a warm collesed pit in the center of your stomach. He's intrigue if anything by your presence, the roads these days are anything but safe and most stay in the towns at night for fear of the boogeyman and werewolves that haunt the night. You could say the same about him, a lone old man could be a very tasty morsel for any beasts and the contents of his pack a great prize for any enterprising bandit. But none the less he seems glad to have your company on this darkest of nights.
After some time passes he asks if you would like to hear a story. Your interest is peaked as you raise an eyebrow at the man. From what you know of Tinkers they are supposed to be some of the grandest story tellers in all of the lands, collecting tales and legends wherever they go. You've never had a chance to listen to one of their stories, and now seems like as good as an opportunity as ever. Humoring the man you pass five gold crowns over the fire and into the man's outstretched hand. Giving you a more welcoming smile than before, he disappears into his tent the sound of bones cracking and shifting into place as he rises from the ground. He returns a little bit later with a large leatherbound book thick enough to serve as armor against blade or bolt. He tells you that he will tell a tale not that old, per say but important all the same. A tale that shaped the world as the Swords of Fate clashed sending echos across the mountains. The story of the Wolven Storm. As he finishes his introductions with a flick of his hand the flames begin to dim and the rest of the world becomesm muted accept his voice as the smoke of the fire begins to warp and take shape - a wolf running through the forest and so he begins.
"Something ends, something begins."
Something ends, something begins.
Like all good stories this one begins with a death and a resurgence. In the Northern Lands King Arience Tyerial Kadover Estionia Lysteria dies after two months of battling an infection set on by a wound taken in battle. The king died without a legitimate heir to his throne and without a strong claim the Northern Lands fell to chaos. Bastards, and nobles all fought with their own self raised armies for claim over The Throne of The Ironmount. Two hundred of peace that had been established and maintained by the Lysteria destiny ended. The wars of succession were long and bloody and in the end no winner could be decided amongst the dead. The Northern Lands fractured among old territorial boundaries and the remnants of the Lysteria's empire were soon relegated to only old crumbling monuments and broken roadways as a dozen petty kingdoms were formed in the wake, continually plauged by wars of expansion and aggression.
As the North fell into chaos and butchery, in a verdant land far to the south celebration were held in every village and hamlet and every citizen of the capital was dressed in their best finery. On this late spring day, marked the coronation of Emperor Katovier eld Kovari, Otersern tryst Yaught var Neir. Emperor Katovier eld Kovari was the youngest son of the late ruler of the Vorstag Empire. Born from the union of his father the Emperor of Vorstag and his mother Queen Elzya de Sirvell of the Kingdom of Sirvilla. Thier union and Emperor Katovier ascension marking an age old plot to combined two of the greatest nations in all of the known world Sirvilla and Vorstag and marking the creation Greater Vorstag Empire. Katovier was a young man in his mid twenties, charismatic and charming he was a favorite among the complex games and multitudes of plots of the Vorstagian courtiers and nobles, and as a great military officer and accomplished swordsman he also had the heart of the common man safely within his grasp. It was a time of great celebration and bountiful feasts in the lands across Vorstag and Sirvilla. The feasting would continue for two weeks, all the while the Empire's subjects were unaware of the greater plan that lay ahead for them. Katovier eld Kovari had his eyes set on the objective that his father had trained him for since he was still a young boy. He would bring unity to the land. The world would remember him as the Emperor who united the realms.
Thirty years have passed since the death of King Arience and the coronation of Katovier eld Kovari. The Emperor of Vorstag is no longer the young man that took the throne all those years ago. The dreams and ambition of a conqueror are never an easy task. The Wars in the South to secure Vorstagian domination were relatively bloody affairs. Vorstag's borders grew yearly encompassing more and more land through either war or politics. For a time Katovier eld Kovari was considered the greatest emperor Vorstag had ever seen. The lands acquired and the many victories in battle pleased the courts and nobles at least long enough to keep his coffers fueled and his armies armed and ready. The new subjects of the empire were quickly assimilated into the fold of the Empire, their peoples kept complacent with bread and circus, and they quickly learned that while Vorstagian rule was harsh to those who would break it, it was a fair rule that brought civility to a more unified land.
But these days public opinion of the Emperor has fallen from the glory days of his peak. The main reason for this sudden turn of events being the war in the North. The Vorstagian people had grown accustomed to quick victories watching their army destroy all those that stood in their way. They were the hammer that forges the raw metal into shape. But the men of the North provided surprising resistance. The once fractured states were unified once more under the rule of one man, King Jaython of Arden. Arden was one of the larger broken kingdoms to have come out of the wars for the Ironmount that came after the death of King Arience. A former grand kingdom in the North in its own right before King Arience beat them in a long and bloody war forcing them into submission. The reformation of the lost kingdom came from one Tehtran Velston, the only surviving member of the Velston Dynasty who held control over Arden before its fall. Jaython his son was a strong military officer and in many ways was a reflection of his adversary Katovier eld Kovari in his youth. The young king lead a decisive campaign called the Red Summer in which he tore a hole through the north crushing all in his way until he sat upon the Iron Mountain retaking control of the North. During the Red Summer, Jaython showed his skills as military officer and his intolerance for those whom he deems less than him. Mass beheadings were held and the north soon became littered with mass graves for the dead, but the young king of Arden held the close ear of many officials both in military, economic and religious spheres retaining his influence and marking those that he killed as Vorstagian traitors.
These two men stand opposed to one another. Katovier eld Kovari the old wolf of the south, with his entire legacy on the line and King Jaython the white wolf of the north, fighting to retain a rule that he only just managed to cement. As they bear their fangs the world trembles beneath their weight. The Vorstagian Invasion makes slow yet steady progress continually pushing ever northward, but ever persistent the Ardenian forces continually push back and as the front crawls forward in one area in another it slowly crawls backwards until the two forces readjusted and the cycle starts again. The people of the North are kept in check through the fear and strong arm of Jaython and his men but at the same time he is the only hope they have in keeping their valued independence. While Katovier fights for his honor, to be remembered as the Emperor that united the Realms and brought generations of Vorstagian peace and rule, even as his coffers began to run dry and the murmurs of the nobles who tire of this tiresome war.
And even so another force moves on the horizon as unnatural weather patterns and large magical disturbance mark the landscape as the monsters become more and more ravenous and aggressive do the chaos and the bloodshed. There are whispers of an ancient prophecy accounting the end of time itself as the world succumbed to frost and fire. A prophecy that speaks of two rulers one in the North and one in the South and a great war between them. The coming of the Wolven Storm.
H A N D S O F D E S T I N Y
Wolves always hunt in packs
Caught in the middle of this terrible conflict are the Wolves. The Company of the Wolf, was a loose confederation of sellswords almost as old as the realms themselves. The wolves took from all walks of life from beggars, to murders, and trained knights. Most give up their old identities upon taking the oath, forgetting whoever they once were and becoming soldiers for hire. It was a hard life if anything, but you were given training to defend yourself, a warm bed and a gurtainee of three meals a night. If you needed a job done and you needed it done with professional service and ability they were the men and women to call. Up to about one year ago they were preoccupied with their most recent job working as the protector of Lord Van of Starly. A job which paid well and was relatively luxurious in its contents having to put down the occasional peasant revolt and killing the foolhardy bandit lord here and there. But, Lord Van in his arrogance did not succumb to the demands of the Vorstagians and instead backed King Jaython as the traditional ruler of the north. As it turns out the small mountainous kingdom though bountiful in its supply of raw materials was not worth the bloodshed and once the going got rough, Jaython made a tactical retreat across the River Tally leaving King Van to his fate.
With Van's head on a pike after a month long siege of his castle, the Wolves beaten and having surrendered and left the Vorstagians in after it became quite obvious that the siege was only going to end with them all end were now unemployed. Luckily for them at least the Vorstagians admired their skill in the defense of Van's castle and as long as the sellswords would considered their contract with Van void all would be forgiven. And soon after the execution the Wolves were approached by a messenger requesting that they come to the Imperial Capital for an audience with Emperor himself. Not one to argue with orders from powerful emperors whose armies surrounded them on all sides and seeing no harm in a friendly meeting they made way to the imperial capital. It was here that the Wolves received their next job. The job was simple with his forces preoccupied with fighting the barbarians in the north, he needed another set of eyes to go investigate something for him.
His spies had continued to bring back disturbing reports from isolated northern cities and villages of mysterious events. Entire villages slaughtered in a single night and the culprits never to be found. The whispers of the Wolven Storm. While not a superstitious man Katovier was not a stupid one either and knew when events ever strange needed to be look into and dealt with. He could not have an unknown element foiling his war. The wolves of course would have no true acknowledgement of their position and would receive no aid from the Vorstagian forces in the north. The Job was simple enough and even if it wasn't the standard affair, checking into baseless legends and the superstitions of the peasantry seemed like an easy task. Little did they know what would follow was how closely the Wolven Storm, the war and everything else was intertwined.
T H E R A C E S O F T H E R E A L M S
Well other races do exist within the Realms, three races make up the so called "Greater Races". The Elves, Dwarves and Humans. The Humans have become the dominate force in the realms mostly just from population as they are generally much more short lived than their two companions and because of it can just outgrow them fielding larger armies and dealing with plagues and famines easier. High racial tensions exist between the humans and their other companions. With humanity holding the top spot considering the other two to be lesser creatures and treated as second class citizens having to live in ghettos and designated quarters of cities. To see a Elven Noble would be a great shock indeed. The abuses that occur also involve vented anger from the failed Elven Revolts in which the Elves with help from the Dwarves and a few enterprising groups of humans tried to star mass revolutions and retake their place as top dogs in the realm, slaughtering many along the way.
M A G I C A N D S O R C E R Y
Magic is the art of bending the Will. The Will is an otherworldly power source that lays beyond the veils of known reality. Sorceress, Cleric, Druids and the like can use this power to perform great feats. The mastery of Magic involves the memorization and knowledge of vast sums of knowledge whose complexities and intricacies mean the difference between a successful spell and instantaneous insanity or worse. Children who show natural adopted are often sought out by the many cabales, lodges and colleges that exists in the world for sorcerers.
The power bound in spell formulae may be used for healing, teleportation, destruction, creating illusions, and altering form. Though the will is also affected by the Caster themselves and each magical burst is different from mage to mage, cleric to cleric, druid to druid, sorceress to sorceress. Magic is considered a curse, a blessing, the future, an art and a science all wrapped into one tight bundle. People fear magic users becuase of their independence and their general hotheadedness, their is no governing body that maintains ethical codes and morals for magic users they are owned held back by their own minds and morals. Because of this stories of mad necromancers and warlocks trying to take over towns and cites is not an all uncommon story.
Most kings and queens hold at least one magic user of some kind in their court. They usually serve as a cheif advisor as most are very well versed in the history of the world. Even so to the common man prejudices are held high, as most religions condemn magic as gifts of delivery and the play of tricksters. Righteous inquisitors and witch hunters don't help to stifle those myths either in the long run. When bad things happen and little Jimmy falls down the wall, or the crops fail the sorceress is the first to be blamed and many a poor individual has been burned on a pyre for crimes they did not commit.
It is also important to note that tapping into the Will has certain peculiar side effects, the most notiabiliy being the longevity of Magic Users. The Will preserves them and keeps them young and they age at a very slow rate, not long when compared to other creatures like the elves but much longer than the standard human life span.
A W E L C O M E
Hello and Welcome to the interest check for The Wolven Storm or TWS for short. TWS is my love letter to fantasy, to the stories presented in works such as The Black Company, Malazan Book of the Fallen, and the Witcher. Of video games such as Baldur's Gate, Pillars of Eternity and Dragon Age. The Realms are a place with a history and I've done my best to make a living breathing world but I'm not done yet. There are many gaps that need to be filled and stories that need to be told. I've always been a fan of fantasy because well Science Fiction is great, you will see no wizards punching dragons in the face there and this is a fantasy world designed to allow players to breath. It's the story of a world on the brink of destruction teetering close to the edge, it's the story of an age old prophecy that may bring with it the end of the world. It's a story of sellswords, mercenaries for hire barely heroes by standard definition. And well it's a story of whatever else you can come up with, TWS is a mold upon which I'm looking for individuals to help craft into something else.
Anyway if you are interested in a good old fantasy adventure with some more mature themes and ideas. Well how about you come and say hi?
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