Here we go!

Nestled beside the Cherafir River across from the Grandrather Forest, the Thirsty Lute a traveler’s haven for those meandering around the southern portion of the midlands. What’s even more impressive is that it rarely finds itself a target of trouble or infamy. It is a wholesome place where Yggdrasil is public praised every evening and only the most rowdy of fellows are provided free airfare through the buildings double doors. It is never directly spoken of, more out of unfamiliarity than any threat of danger. But it is quite a popular stopping point for many regulars that travel the region or find themselves need a place to rest for the evening or the entire night.

It is a large establishment while hosting a basement level that double both as a common sleeping room for those unable to afford something more private, as well as a food cellar - separated by a common wall of course. The main level provides ample room for eating alone at smaller tables that seat four or for participating in the “Stranger Table” whereas many as sixteen people may sit comfortably around a large rectangular table. It is encouraged by the proprietors, to ensure an amicable atmosphere that this table always be filled first. It allows strangers to sit side by side with the intention of becoming fast friends. With the darkness spreading, a few friends would never hurt. More importantly, the Thirsty Lute is built around a massive hearth that helps keep the entire building warm on those cool spring nights and allows in an ample downdraft when left empty on those particular sweltering summer days. Above that room is a strange split level built sleeping quarter with a variety of rooms, and comfort levels for people who come in droves or all by themselves. Even the attic has a few rooms available for renting at a much lower cost, if the stairs aren’t any bother nor the dust or smell.

The Thirsty Lute boasts two particularly unique delicacies that help maintain a regular customer base. Midlands Ale, known quite well around the southern Midlands and produced in the capital is distributed far across the land from the smallest taverns to the largest ale houses in the biggest cities. The Thirsty Lute provides a sweetened version of this ale that pulls at the palette with the bitter taste of a typical ale, and the added sweetness of vanilla. It is quite a beverage for the weary traveler. The second is a hearty stew favoring featuring a delicious conglomerate of vegetables, spices, and meats considered a jealously guarded family recipe. A light meal it is not; however, a bowl before bed and a good night’s sleep that lasts well into the next morning is guaranteed.

Rarely will you see Ignatius Hogworth in the common room during the regular hours when the common room is the most occupied. The current proprietor of the Thirsty Lute, Ignatius is a pious man that keeps Yggdrasil in a positive light. He is also the establishments main chef. A salty old man he has a good heart and a rough exterior honed by years of life upon Errandil that eventually forced him to move beyond his place of birth and into a more solitary life. The most personal information ever milked from this dried up cow is that he is not a native of the Kingdom of Duringham or the lands of the southern midlands that make up its territory. His daughter Rebecca is the tavern’s main waitress and housekeeper (the latter being a role that everyone participates in). She is a grown woman but as with most girls clings to her father’s presence. Humble and proper, this young woman is pleasant to be around and maintains a great amount of the daily dealings with the clientele. Finally, is Malcom who was a local from the western isles that came across the Thirsty Lute and earned Ignatius’ favor. He has worked for the man for many years. It is quite apparent that he is smitten with his daughter and works constantly to prove himself worthy of her hand. While they are not actively involved, the flirtation is present to Ignatius disapproval.

(Author’s Note) If one might be interested, there may be room on board the staff of the tavern all one would merely have to do is inquire with Ignatius. Of course, what sort of person would hide out in such a roundabout place unless they came from an even lesser known locality.

On Shapeshifters:

They are an ancient race and are found throuought Errandil in small tribes across the land. These tribal settlements are often found in areas away from other settlements and are therefore quite isolated. Deep woods, remote islands, and mountain peaks are all places one might find a shifter tribe—-the more inaccessible by humans or other races, the better. They have tight-knit communities and prefer to keep to themselves, though sometimes if two tribes are within reasonable traveling distance (for a shifter), they might have a sort of relationship with another tribe.

Each locale has their own specific customs and even a variation on the language, though both are derived from a common source that none recall now. It is often believed that there was once only one tribe, a nomadic one that as they traveled, people splintered off in groups to live in the places they loved best. None actually know anymore for sure.

The Vokurians, as they call themselves, have the unique ability to change their shape into almost any other, with some exceptions. They can alter their humanoid shapes into anything—-younger, older, taller, light or dark skinned, male, female, or even an identical copy of another person. They can also turn into most animals, however, the animal in question must have reasonable capability for sentience and must have blood (unlike a jellyfish, which has neither). Some forms are easier to do and to maintain than others—-humanoid forms are easiest, and the closer said form is to the shifter’s natural one, the easier it is. Animals are more difficult to hold in general, depending on size or type. For example, a dog would be fairly easy, while something like an elephant would be attainable but would take immense energy and concentration.

Each shifter has one animal form that is nearly effortless for them to change into an hold. What this is exactly differs from person to person. The vokurians call this an ilun-tai, or ‘true alternate’. It is the form that suits them best. Some tribes believe this is something predetermined by personality or perhaps passed down from parent to child. Others maintain it is more of a learned behavior.

There are two things the shifters cannot change, however: Eye color, and the color of their blood. Both of these are common details in folklore about them and are widely known as sure-fire identifiers of a shifter. Their eyes are an intense, too-blue cobalt ringed by a dark gray-black circle around the iris. Their blood is a nearly metallic looking graphite color. It is primarily because of this that shifters are widely associated with the Darkness and firmly shunned across Errandil.

On Folklore:

Humans especially, (though other races participate in this as well) have long feared shifters and their powerful abilities. Considered to be evil beasts of the Darkness, demons, or at best, untrustworthy, they have been exiled from society at large and this is a big part of why the tribes stay so secluded. Some extremists go by the ideology of ‘the only good shifter is a dead one’ while others simply don’t want to do business with them, will chase them out of shops, or try to force them out of town. Common slurs are also used, typically variations of ‘grayblood’, ‘nightblood’, ‘blackblood’ or sometimes just plain ‘demon’.

Most people have never actually met a shifter, however. They are increasingly rare in non-shifter settlements, so this has opened doors for many a tall tale about their wretched, depraved deeds. Some count them as mere myths, like werewolves, ghosts, or mermaids. Others acknowledge their very real existence but little truth is known about them. So naturally, people make things up. Children are told to stay out of the woods at night lest Dark beasts and shifters come to eat them. Tales are told of shifters taking the shape of a groom so that he might rape the bride. Some say that shifters have taken the shape of lords and commanders and captains and sewn chaos and depravity by giving wicked orders.

There is no love between shifters and other peoples. Some folk have throuought history attempted to capture and enslave shifters for their own purposes. It’s an extremely difficult thing to do and rarely is profitable, but it is possible. A shifter can be bound to their natural form in two notable ways: the first being bodily weakness due to starvation, sickness, or severe injury. The second being an enchantment put on iron or steel that forcibly blinds a shifter to their natural shape through arcane power. Some particularly pious individuals believe deeply that they are creatures of the Darkness and that if they are slain as sacrifices to Yggdrasil, they can gain blessings or protection.

On names:

The vokurians hold names very dear. Children are not officially named until they are a little older than infants. Some as young as toddlers, others as late as the age of six or seven. Names are given thoughtfully and with meaning and are reserved until parents feel they have a grasp on the child’s personality. In addition to their family name, they are given three. Rheoaan Rohaan Rio Ja’aisen, for example:

Rheoaan: The third and longest of the names is reserved for immediate family and for one’s spouse. It is the only name of the three that has meaning.

Rohaan: The second name is a shorter one derived from the third. Two children with the same third name would not likely have the same second and first names. Rheoaan, for example, might shorten to Roedan, Riahin, or Roaehi. It is given to friends or distant relatives.

Rio: The first and shortest of the names, it is the one given to strangers, enemies, or fresh aquaintanences. The use of the second name must be earned, and only the owner of said name can decide when someone may use it.

The Hamlet of Pyre was built near the southern border of the Kingdom of Duringham. As it is told, a group of nomadic people were attacked by those inflicted with the darkness while traveling north to seek protection within the Kingdom. Suffering severe casualties, the tribe scattered in all directions. However, those who remained in the area to fight off the darkness and survived constructed a massive funeral pyre of the dead that was said to have burned to see the light of seven new days. The light shone so brightly against the night time sky that it gained the attention of those who had fled and drew them back together to honor the dead in their ascension.

That same pyre is still the center of the hamlet to this day. Encased in stones found on the banks of the river the surrounding land, the people of that time held the pyre in high regard as a shrine to the people who sacrificed their lives so that they may live. The Pyre grows with every death as funeral rights include the cremation of the body, a collection of the ashes which are then spread amongst the stones of the pyre before a new stone is added.

The hamlet is quiet, even on the not so typical day. It expands haphazardly from the pyre at the center where one would find establishments such as the blacksmith, the tailor, and the inn. These buildings function as both businesses and homes for their proprietors. There are other homes in this hamlet proper, but they are relatively few. As one moves further out from the hamlet proper, they will find the homes clustered together in small groups of two or three each with their own family but collectively maintaining a portion of farmland in a sort of commune.

At any given time there are only two guards on duty and they maintain the hamlet proper. Rarely do they patrol the farthest reaches of the hamlet’s jurisdiction, typically only when requested by those who live beyond the hamlet proper. Because of its small size, the guard also very rarely patrols by night doing so only upon request of the ruling lord. However, upon an order of conscription by that same lord and army of around one or two hundred can be gathered to fight on varying levels. They are responsible for maintaining their own weapons and what little armor they can afford as well as training to a competent and combat ready level.



The ruling Lord, Sir Orsin Daremyth was a knight in the King’s royal regiment, charged with protecting the King when outside of the castle beyond the responsibility of the King’s Guard. After the death of the last Lord, he was gifted the position for his bravery, loyalty, and responsibility in his duties. For him, it is mainly a retirement position. A place for him to pass. His modest manner is present amongst the buildings of the hamlet proper, distinguishable only by the size in comparison to those buildings around it. He is charged with making the important decisions of the hamlet, which are few and far between. He is kind-hearted, just, and fair with a penchant for second chances.

Orthreloth, the capital of the Kingdom of Duringham and home to the seat of King Marcurio Thadon the twelth. A thriving metropolis that provides a prime example of a thriving economy and military might in the Midlands. While it is not the earliest constructed settlement in the Midlands it was one of the first. The city was constructed in a strategic location that exists between where the Eachine River splits from the Glomma River and where the Glomma River splits from the Massenmarch River. It is because of this particular location that the city has thrived.

Racially integrated, the city of Orthreloth is certainly a melting pot of cultural convergence. There is no specific observation of Yggdrasil although they do favor the most appealing in a positive light. It is better to have good neighbors than evil. But who is to say that more diabolical sects do not exist in the darker corners of the city. There are only two holidays that the city celebrates as a hole. These are the Royal Ascension, or the yearly anniversary of the current king’s reign. And the Festival of the Hunt, a contest in which the island is barricaded at either bridge and participants must hunt down ferocious beasts released on the island. Otherwise, celebrations are held based on personal belief.

There is little to say about the city for it is quite typical. The western edge of the river, while technically not in the assumed territory of the Kingdom is inhabited more greatly than the east. The eastern side of the river is densely populated with what would be considered a middle class socioeconomic status. The island is the residence of many upper class citizens, as the festival of the hunt is provided mostly for their entertainment. The western half of the city is a menagerie of socioeconomic status. The Castle and seat of King Thadon resides upon the hill the homes beneath it get progressively less lavish as the distance grows until the poor district is reached closest to the wall.

The river in most all locations has some jetti or dock, of course there is an official port on the south side of the wester edge of the river where the larger ships dock. The shipping industry is paramount to the settlements survival. Most of the city’s goods and migrants come in on ship as traversing great distances over Errandil can prove quite dangerous. Of course, the King levies a certain tax on goods that come into and leave the city; which can sometimes cause quite an uproar. But it is all for the greater good of the Kingdom.

Mixed within the city are a few particularly notably organizations that hold a particular sort of influence over the city’s lot whether authorized or otherwise. The Iron Veil is a guild of mercenaries or sell-swords that has a strong host in the city. At least one inn is entirely devoted to serving their cause acting as a haphazardly placed headquarters. Then is the group that calls themselves the “Men in Cloaks,” a guild of rogues and thieves that often police the poorer districts of the city as the guard is more heavily focused on the richer sides of town. Finally is Yggdrasil’s Watchful Eyes, which is the largest religious sect and denomination of Yggdrasil in the city. They command a large following as they work well throughout the city to provide religious guidance and healing through physical and sometimes arcane practices. They also maintain a vast knowledge of various schools of information, as both extremely literate and extremely pious in keeping the written word.

There are multiple points of access constructed within the twenty foot high stone walls that surround the city, with guard towers built at similar intervals. This wall is lined with archers, murder holes, and rock piles should a siege be brought upon them. But while this is the primary line of defense it is not the initial. More than a country mile beyond the walls, strategically placed to ensure line of sight are watch towers on both the western and eastern edge. In times of trouble, they are equipped with mighty brazzers that can be seen for miles in every direction. These will alert the men on the wall who will call upon the collective force of the guard and if need be an order of conscription within the city walls.



It is important to say a few things about King Marcurio Thadon, the twelfth of this name and the twelfth of his station. The crown eminents with an archaic resonance of the King’s of the past, as if they guide the current wearer from beyond the grave. The armor and accoutrements never change. Only the face. Even the name does not change. Yet, people do not question. His demeanor, attitude, and plans never change and still people do not question. It is as if the King’s spirit was lead by Yggdrasil himself, divinely inspired or communicated with every new crowned King. Of course, those who are arcanely alert may take notice of the crown specifically as it does radiat a magical presence, but if anyone has ever found anything off kilter they’ve made the decision to keep their mouth shut. Of course, regardless of why the King is now the twelfth of his name despite the physical appearance changing (sometimes drastically), the King has never shown any signs of evil intentions towards his people. In short, the King is a continual beacon of hope for his people.

Gilgondorin. It would seem as though a map has never made it beyond the borders of the Massif. Little is truly known about the composition of the great crater-city and even less is known of its origin. While people have proclaimed to have been from the city, some of the most unscrupulous people this person has ever had the displeasure of encountering, such things have never been proven. Subsequently, it is believed that individuals who inhabit the crater-city never reach beyond the borders of the Massif. The only notable information known is that of its appearance and the mystery of its origins.

Some scholars suggest that Gilgondorin is the oldest known settlement of the land. However, those very same scholars have no understanding of who established it or how it came to be. They suggest that this settlement was birthed out of the “Long Night,” when the warmth of the sun had been stolen away from the night and even the southern Midlands were blanketed in a gray hue that fell from the sky but was said to not belong on this land. A spell of clairvoyance provided the only known representation of the strange city, but it was proclaimed that the seer who was so bold had died only a few short moments after seeing the structures. In fact, it took mage of necromancy to learn the truth. A portion of history that dare not be spoken lightly, not under the blessing of Yggdrasil. A massive floating structure, tethered to the land by chains, suspending over a settlement of stone structures secluded by a great crater that extends far away from the city walls.

So what is inferred about the settlement given those who have been encountered with stories of Gilgondorin? Quite frankly, it is a dangerous and unsavory place. It is presumed that the settlement is chaotic and unlawful with an evil ruler who maintains control by power and fear. A settlement of murderers, thieves, and other thugs and rapscallions. It is a place that no normal person could feel comfortable inhabiting. All the concrete evidence needed is discerned from that understanding that every scholarly expedition made into the Massif and towards the discovery of the truth concerning Gilgondorin has been fruitless, with those travelers never to be seen again.

The Midlands makes up the majority of the landmass that is Errandil, covering more than fifty percent of the continent. The fine prairie and wild savannahs of the Midlands spread from the desert wastelands in the south to the frozen mountains that border the northlands with a variety of forested and hillbourne regions in between. Grazing creatures meander through the wilderness feeding upon the tall grass while predatory beasts lay in wait for the perfect time to strike. Men and other humanoids till the soil, exploiting the fertile soil surrounding the miles of river that carve through the Midlands surface. While not the only cradle of life on Errandil, the Midlands certainly encompass the most wide array of surface dwelling creatures.

The southern half of the Midlands is also known as the great river basin as it provides ample room for the flood waters that rush from the northern mountains during the warmer months as refurbishes the nutrient depleted soils that allow for such booming civilizations to have formed. The southern Midlands is considered anything south of the Massenmarch and Glomma Rivers, which includes the Glandrather Forest and the Forest of Spirits. Subsequently, the southern Midlands borders what is named the Wastelands as well as the unnamed wastes to the south. It is typically believed that the forests belong to the Elves, although there is a certain level of unspoken understanding that man be able to traverse the woods without harm presuming they remain peaceful. Whereas man is more partial to the grasslands, which is where most humanoid civilizations are found.

The northern half of the Midlands known as the Northern Steppe exists on the northside of the natural border created by the Massenmarch and Glomma Rivers. It too thrives over the rising river waters of the warmer months that present with the northern mountains melt, but the climate is much cooler boasting a greater appreciation for the seasonal sun that presents during the summer months. The major areas of the north include the northern foothills, the Lowlands of Khinasi, the Peacewood Forest and the Aelvenwode. Its most notable borders are the mountains that separate it from the Northlands and the Aelvenwode itself. Unlike the forests of the southlands, the Aelvenwode boasts a group of elves that are extremely territorial and are protective of their home. There is always a very real threat of death for any non-elven blooded being to breach its borders, and oftentimes the tension between the two civilizations is thick enough to threaten war.

Over all the climate is fairly typical. Warm winds blow in from over the ocean off the eastern shore bring intense and abundant storms. These storms typically miss the area closest to the shore, growing as it follows the rivers west or turning up towards the north. Of course, these storms form all along the coastline typically battering the Midlands but occasionally reaching the mountain passes before letting loose. The north is most certainly hit harder than the south as the storms from the lower portion of the coastline are swiftly blown to the north. The southern half typically misses out on the snowy winters of the north, with the exception of the occasional clipper or artic vortex. But even then, it is typically only the tips furthest north of the southern midlands.

Tevira

She is a legend among sailors, rumored to be the queen of the sea. Of course, few actually believe she truly exists, but the legend of Tevira and other mermaids is a tradition as old as sailing itself. As the stories go, she is a marvel to behold, with hair like night, eyes like the dawn, and skin like fine porcelain. The legends vary about what color her scales are, according to the region. Some say they're dark blue, some say they're a deep green like crushed pine needles. Others say black and iridescent like the back of a beetle. All say that she is captivating, beyond compare, and mesmerizing to watch.

Sailors around Errandil have a deep love for the myth of Tevira and sometimes will wax poetic about supposed encounters heard 'from a friend of a friend'. Some tales speak of sailors being mysteriously saved after being tossed overboard by wild seas. Some tales tell how the arrogance of a cocky sailor would anger the mermaid and cause such wild storms. And yet there are tales that describe seasoned seamen, stout in body in mind, suddenly leaping overboard on foggy nights, claiming they were following a melodious tune. They were never seen again.

More practical men will attribute these tall-tales to dolphins or other whales that might take an interest in people, the fickle weather of the open sea, and spoiled rations driving men mad. Others are convinced that Tevira is out there and was sent by Yggdrasil to govern the seas. The truth is not known.

Tevira is known for both being benevolent and cruel, just like the sea itself. She is considered to be a true neutral entity with motivations of her own and little real care for the fate of Errandil's seagoing folk. Depictions of Tevira are common as figureheads on ships.

Ceylor

Ceylor are a breed of dragon that are found primarily on cliffsides or in high-elevation mountain peaks. They live in very small groups of maybe 2-3 and are rarely seen by people due to their remote habitats and the fact that they are nocturnal. Typical prey is usually mountain dwelling creatures (goats, mountain lions, large game) and oceanside ones tend to feed on aquatic life.

Ceylor are much much smaller than other breeds of dragon. Their full grown size is close to the size of an adult moose and have a slim, sleek, agile build. Unlike larger dragons, they are not heavily "armored" and their scales are matte and smooth. Their bodies are lithe, muscular, and they are not very 'spiky', except a few small spines around the head. The scales are black and because they are matte and close fitted they tend not to reflect light, which makes Ceylor excellent night-stealth hunters. Their claws and teeth are dark, not white/ivory, and their eyes are deep orange. They do have small, thin, bioluminescent stripes along their body/face. They don't glow very brightly and in the daytime it looks almost more like a reflection than light produced. It's something that can be turned 'on and off' so to speak, and they use it to communicate amongst themselves. The stripes are red.

Being smaller and 'unarmored', Ceylor are more vulnerable and less intimidating than larger breeds. However, as a tradeoff, they are extremely fast, agile, and almost fluid in the air. Their roar is has a dual tone, as if two voices are crying out at once in harmony, one deeper and one shrill and sharp; the sound tends to trend more towards sharp than deep. Ceylor do breathe fire, but they can't paint a target with a continuous stream, rather, they spit a little singular jet or fireball.