Tyler

Ante Lucem

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Chapter 3 ~ Anthropology

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Part of Tyrrania's inherent wonder is its ethnic diversity. Growing up in a small, woodland village, I had never laid eyes on a non-Human before I began my adventures. During my explorations, I came across a total of four species that I identified as sentient, Humanoid races; that is, non-animalistic, intelligent people. I have documented the details of these various peoples below, in the hopes that you are fortunate enough to cross paths with some of them on your travels. Through learning about others, we often end up learning about ourselves. It is important to remember that, as well as our differences, we also possess similarities through which we can unite.

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· Humans ·

(Homo recognitus)

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Humans are the most populous race in Tyrrania. The average height is between five and six feet tall; males are larger and more muscular than females. Their hair and skin colours vary in pigmentation from white to black; though red hair is not uncommon. On average, they live to be around seventy years old, though it is not unheard of for them to reach a hundred. Humans are an intelligent species and are responsible (or at least highly involved) in much of Tyrrania’s development. Humans are generally considered to be the most powerful race; if not for their advantageous build and intellect, then for their sheer numbers alone. All of Tyrrania’s royal lineage has been exclusively human, which has lead to a sense of humans being ‘above’ the other races. Humans have a tense history with the Dwarves; aside from the infamous Dwarven Exploitation and subsequent rebellion, some theories suggest that Dwarves were a failed experiment by the creator gods, from which the Humans were designed. This tension has largely settled in the modern age, but naturally some Humans remain who believe themselves to be the master race. Humans are capable of learning magic, but it must be studied and committed to memory. Humans are ruled by King Valdez of Amorynthia, or by King Setsiput of Tumeken, depending on their heritage.

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· Dwarves ·

(Homo primitus)

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Dwarves are the second most populous race in Tyrrania, though their population only equates to around 60% of the Humans. They live on average for between ninety and a hundred years. Dwarves are shorter and more muscular than Humans, with both genders averaging between three and four feet tall. Males are notably hairier than females. Aside from these differences, they are physically similar to Humans, albeit it shorter and stockier. Whilst they are stronger than Humans and easily as intelligent, their stature causes them to be much slower. The strength of their internal organs means they are largely immune to poisons, though particularly potent venoms may still affect them. Dwarves were exploited by Humans hundreds of years ago, in what was effectively entire racial slavery. This caused a large portion of Dwarves to move into the unoccupied lands of the North, which they would name Vastoria after their leader. However, problems with the feral Nosferytes that lived in the region forced the rebels underground, where they built the subterranean city of New Kelda. Elsewhere, Dwarves who resisted the rebellion can be found all across Amorynthia, especially in Gard, but the Tumeken kingdom tends to be too warm for them. Dwarves are notoriously good smiths, and Dwarven-crafted goods are considered by the majority of Tyrranians to be the highest quality available. Whilst many would argue that the exploitation of the Dwarves is over, with some smiths even able to set up their own smithees in high-end areas of Amor, most of the Dwarven kind still work labour-intensive hours in the Gardian mines. Whilst they do make a profit, it is minimal due to the heavy taxes imposed by the King. Dwarves are incapable of using magic in any form, even through study of the magical arts. Because of this, Dwarven weapons and armours are often enchanted by human mages and resold at a higher cost.

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· Nosferytes ·

(Homo sanguinus)

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A populous race, though few pay much mind to their existence due to their isolation in the frozen North. Nosferytes are visually similar to Humans, albeit it taller and more muscular, averaging between six and seven feet in both genders. Females are notably more slender. Their skin is pale and even white in some cases; their hair pigmentation is often dark by contrast, but ice-blonde hair is a coveted rarity considered the pinnacle of Nosferyte beauty. They have sharp, fang-like teeth and the race’s eyes are universally deep red in colour. Nosferytes are much stronger and faster than the other races, and they live to be around four hundred years old, in their prime for around half of that. Though, it is not without its drawbacks: an ancient condition curses the bloodline, giving the species an inherent craving for blood, which is highly harmful to their minds and bodies. Consumption of blood grants a Nosferyte instant euphoria and it is easy for them to become addicted: continued ingestion will quickly reduce the Nosferyte to a frail, emaciated shell, losing their hair as well as their mind and living only to consume more blood. These unfortunates are branded ‘Ferals’ by their kind, and immediately deported from Rotsanger on unmanned ships, intending to kill of the weaklings of the species. Unfortunately for the Nosferytes, many of their vessels crash in the convenient Gravesend Bay, which has lead to an increasing population of Ferals in the mountainous region of Vastoria. Nosferytes live in a constant war with themselves to resist the urge to drink, and sustain a carnivorous diet of meat ritualistically drained of its blood. Contrary to the vampiric rumours that surround the species, the Nosferytes are a race in themselves and cannot ‘convert’ victims; nor would they wish to. Nosferytes are capable of learning magic, though it is generally considered by their people to be a coward’s practice: the Nosferytes enjoy the thrill of direct conflict.

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· Elves ·

(Homo arcanus)

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The Elves are a scarce people, of whom very little is known about. Some wonder whether they actually exist at all, or whether the stories are just folk tale and mythology getting carried away with itself. Supposedly, Elves are v̶̝̗͕͍̙̜͎͔̅̒̍̈͋͛̉̄̓͐́̅̅͆͜į̴̢̝̞͕̯͇͖̩̮̄̂̀̊͂̔̾͐̀͐̔̉͠͝s̴͙̙̗̋̇͂̀̈̈́̉̓̾͘ụ̶̧̟͕̠̩̥̭̞͌͂͜͝ͅa̵̢̻̼̮̮̗̱͇̘̤̮̥̯̤̣̅̄ͅl̶̨̛͎̣͇͍͉͓̙̹͉͔̯̠͚̠̩̮̺͖̿̅̔̈́̊̊̆̈̃̃̏̽̑̇̕͘͝ͅl̴̤̮̲̄̌͌͐̐͌̉̾̀͑̓̀̊͘͝͠ỷ̴̨̢̤̩̻̬̬̜̼̥͍̗͍͓́̋̊͊̎̿͌͘ ̸̨͚̝̖̙̼͈̭̎̽͐̈̐͗͒͑̋́̓v̶̧̨̛̯̥͕͎͓̺̘͉̑̈̓̓̈́͝ͅȩ̴͇̖̭̭̹̲̱̯̘̞̖̜̎́͑͐̋̈̑̀͆͛̅͒̀̋͛͘͝͝ŗ̴̬̜̜̬̺̤̭͖͈̤̦̻͎͎͚̾̈̈́͗̽̍̃̈́̈́̕͜ͅͅy̷̧͕̟͕̩̹̖̙̟͂̎̉͘ ̶̛̱̊̔͝ş̶̧͎͎̜̼̦͖͎̮̮̫̰͍̜͇͒̂́̐̂͌͋͊̌͆̓̋̓ͅͅi̶̞͉̦̍͊́̒̌͂̈̀̆̍̈́̏̎̉͝m̵̨̛̫̮̟̱̠̭̹̘͍̤͓͗̎͑͝ï̴̧̡̙̖͕̣̮̙͍̳̤̹̤̱̣͓̣͓͜l̶̡̡͙̙̮̰̩̗̦̼̯̟͎̥̜̭̪̽͋̾̐͑̀̊͛̓̌̕͝a̵̡̡̰̳̘̪͉̫̦͎̭̺͖͍̜͈̟͕̤͊͐̉͆̃̔̽̄̕͜r̸̛̯͔̹͓͓̳̘̟͍̣͖̥̦͙̙͈̝̮̦̤̒̿͊̏́̐́̒̎̀̽͒͗̃͐̀̀̐̚ ̶̡͖̥̻͇̬͂̿t̴̙̖̳̹͔̜̦͎̮͉̪͆͆́̚͝ǫ̸̧̖̯̘͙̬̩̳̟͒̅̐̀̔̈́͊̑̇̓͜͜͝ ̶̛̦͎͙̗̣͙̘͈̲̺͊̃̃͒̌͛̆̓̆͠͝H̶̡̢̡̼̙͖̮̤͍͉̪̟͙͔͇̻̹͇̥̾̊̎̏̏̈́̐̈̈́̑̏͊̽͐̃̕̕͠͝ȕ̷̗̈́̾̃̑̒͌͆̄̑͋̐̕m̷̯̮̯̜̣̈́̅͐̎́̀̌̄̊̈́̐̍̓̓͗̈́̂͘͘͜ą̶̛̛̣̒̃̑͐̍̃̉̋̽̋̔̔̃̉͐n̶̢̡̝̺͕̖̬̲̥͕̟̱͚͖͔̈͋ͅs̶̨̡̪̤͍̣̲͚̻͎͇͓̭̲͓̮̪̩͆̓͋͛́͗̃̑̈́͊͋̿̇͘͘,̶͉̯͇̙͉͉̭͓̩̙̱̲̜̼͖͇̉́̒͊̅̓̚͜͜ͅ ̷̡̡̢̱̬͉̮̠̠̠̠͉̩̦̻͕͓̒͋̈́̆̕s̶̘͖̲̥͙̤̪̜̹̜̙̤̽̉͜͜ͅͅͅa̸̧̡̨̖̼̬̣͍͕̼͈̠̬͓̺̖͖͕̳̤͑̓̆̇̈v̵̡̳̜̯̖͍͇̦̖͍̘̫̲͚͍̜̠͊̈͊͂͛̏͒̓̅̄͑̊̃́̓͑̒͝e̸̡͙̖͔̜͚͖͕̖̫̜̦̓̀̈́͜ ̵̣̞̗̖̤͓͈̳̘̜̖̻̾͒̅͆͒̾̀̀͆͗ͅf̸̨̨̺̼̟̼̺̳̩̗͓̻̙͚̼̃̎͛ǫ̶̨̧̢̜͍̫̘͕̦̠͖̬̣͍̮̤̾͆̄̄͌̑̓͌̽̿̀̀̕r̵̢̟̥̬͈͓̱͙̻̤̱̲̫̭̟̄̆͜ͅ ̴̗̹͙͈͙̩̯̻̒̂̒́̾̈̂̄̉́͗͆͌͘͠ͅt̷̢̧̰͇̟͚̫͉͍͆͆̇̾̊͌̐͒h̷̢̛̫̱͎̣͙̖̮̿̽̊̀̓̈́̔̾̏̅̋͛́̐̃̚͘̕ę̶̨̨̨̦͙͓͍̜͙̠̗͍̙̰̻͉͇̩̍͐̉͒̓̓̈́͘͝ͅi̷̛̛͍̫̭͙͓̟̅̇͗͋̊̀͋̈́̀̅̌̓̃̈́͝r̴̺͌̋̈ ̶̧̛̤̬̮̙̮̳̼̺̪͙̝̯͎̭̈̓͛͐̉̂͌͑͐̌̈́̚̚̕ͅl̷̜̋͛͛̊̌̆̊͋́ͅo̴̢̦̞̥̬͇̜͇͕͕͎͖͙̓͊͐͊̌̆̈́̿n̶̛̛̲͍̝̪̱̙̅̌́͌͛͋̐́̀͑̚͘̚͝ǧ̵̨̡̫͈̫͉̪̮͔̮̪̜̾̇͑̇̏̚̕,̷̦̪͔̏̀̃̈̋̓̈́͆͘̚͝ ̸̢̧͉̝̠̱̻̦̣̀̾͌̎͂̀̚ṗ̶̡̡͚̭͙̥̖̙͙̫̬͉͚̋̐͊̾͜o̴͓̮̲͔̼͊̽̌͐̑̆̔̅͌̀͘̕͝į̶̢͈̳͕̟̟͇̪͍͛͊͗́͐̅̓̋͌̿̋̑̓̾̚͝ͅͅn̶̡̦̠̙̟̮̘̹̯̭̲̳͖̳̦̆̒͐̀̂̄̚̕͜t̶̰͎͑̑͋̔͆̈́͐̐̈́͌̚ę̷̣̝͓̮̯͒̎͋͐͐̀̈́̂̇̍̍́͘͜͜d̷̡͖̝̞̯̬̱͈̭͍̰̟̩̫͙͙̫̝̂͑̏͘͘ ̵̱̱̤̅́̎͛̊͗͌̃͘͠ẻ̸͎̞̠̓͌́͛͂͘̚͝͝͝a̸̛̱̽̍ŗ̵͍̣̖̘͖̜͇͙̭̻̮̰͕̮͂̀͗̔̋́͋̿̿͝ͅͅś̶̢͍͔͍̝͓͉̜̮̙͘ ̶̡͎̰͙̽̐͌̏̾͐́͑̃͂̚̕̕̚͝͝ā̸̳̙͎͍̞͚̭̫̩͙̝͍̼̗͙n̷̝̜̭͇̭͓̓d̸̢̧̧̡̧͖͓͙͍̤̦̫̺̲̩̩̰̲̺́̆͛͋̎̀̓̃̿́̀̀̓͂̿̚̕͝ ̷͙̬̮͉̭̍͋̈́͛s̶̛͇̹̮͖͆̑͗̄͗̏͐̅͊͊̉͌̿͆̍̚̕͠l̵͎͔̗̹̜̪̩̙͎͖̐̊̅̎͒̈͌͋́̄̑̚ę̴̡͖͖͙͇̞̝̽̍̿̑̈́̂̌̈́͑͐̔͒͘͠ņ̴̭̬̪̰̖̪̯̥̩͎̅̑͋́͂̈́̆̉͛́̽̓͋͂̋͗̾͒͝͝ͅͅd̶̢̡̜̟͙͈̺̩͇̠̜̳̟͍̰̥̱̖͎͐̋͋̕ẽ̸̙͕͔̼̼̻͖̰̰͇̎̿͛̄͌̈̎͒̀͂͌̊̂͂̚͜͝͝ŗ̸̳̟̗̪̹̝͙̹͓̭̪̫͍̾̽͛͜ ̶̡̟̺̭͚͋͗̂f̸̥͇̭̱͓̲̿̎̈́̏̓̓͑̈̏͊͋͛͂͝͝r̴̛̙̖̳̤͕̤̖͔͉̜͕̗̙̆̌̄̊̂͌͆́̓͒̀̈́͂͌̎̀̚͝͝a̷̧̢̡̖̣̝̠͉̟̻͚̜͇̠̥̳̙̤͇̼̐̂̄̚͝m̶̢̛̻̰̜̭̦̝̥̗͖͇͓̲̺̻̊̈́̏̈́́̈̈́̂̅̄̀̑̋̎́̄̕͘͜͝é̶̡̛̛͍͇͖͚̰̩͔͕͇̼̜̜̻̩̞̪̝͚̅̈̾̿̋̿̇̽̃̎́̂͑͊͜͝͝ș̶̢̡̫̦̤̟͙̳̘͈̭̮̈̋̈͊̐͛̅̓́͊͜͝ͅ;̷͈́̾̅̇͂̄͐̓̽͑͝͝ ̴̧̤̫̣͈͙̞̳̘͇̳͉̽̀̏̃̒͌͒̓̔͘ţ̴̳̱̲͚̩͖̭̟͕͊͊̅̄͗̃͋͌̓͆͘͘͝͠ȟ̷̢̨̧̗̥͕͉͎̖̥͔͇̄͂̀̒͛̎̇͗̍̈́̍̑͂͘͠ę̷̧̳̤̹̤͙̠̤̰͉͖͇͚̣̹̔͂̈́́̀̅̏̆̈́̇͒̀͘ͅ ̵̡͍̜̰̥͙̜̊͗̀͗̆̾̏̽̆̈̓̍͝͝l̴͍̪̙̜̪͉̖̜̳̝̤̥̹͙̏̑̌̆͊͠ă̴̡̝̞̗̩̩̗̘̮̻̟͕̟͍͈̼̱͚̈̀͜ͅt̴̞̥͓̮̻̣͛̒͛̍͊̓͂̈́̕t̸̹͖͑̓̓̑̂̔̑̂̍͂̊̍̄̉̈́̍͑͝ę̸̧̛̫̫̣̯̰̥͍̐̐̈́̏̋̈́̓̊́̂͒̔͘̚̚͜r̶̡̧̪̫̮̜̝̓̿̈́̿ ̸̣̰͕̟͎̬̳̲̜͇̖̠̰͛̐̆̉͑̑͝ö̸̤̝̯͕̳͚́̑̈́͊͂͂͛̏̉̋͑͋̀̅͐̊͝f̶͎̼͍̖̬̜̆̌̃̽̓̀́̎͑̑̄̑̀̑͝ ̶̭̺̳̬͙̆̒͛́̑́́̽̿̉̓͒͒̄͂͐̊͝ͅw̶̧̨͉̮̼͇̲͚̰͎͍̩͉̦̘͉͎̒̕͜h̷̨̛̤̝̪͓̞̣͔͕͈̲̟̻͍͇̬̩͈̱̑̏̂̄͐̑͂͐̐̍͗̂̈̃̑̈̀i̸̢̱̹̝̳̬̱͕̭̜̤̱̺̠̩͙̰͙̺̝̓͋̆́̔̈͗̏́͝͝ć̸̢̡͚̹̞̙̣͉̙̦͕͎͔̳͓͑̕h̴̻͓̗̫̮̖̮̠͍̦̑̿̈́͂̐̅̈́ ̷̛͎̲͈̹̯̩̣͚͐̑́ͅc̷̱̱̺̰̲̼͈̱̮̜̫͓̟̰͓̩̫̗̰̗̅̏̍̈̀ã̶̦̩̠̞͖̫̱͚̠͉̙̫̪̹̩͔̇͗̽̈́̀̔̎̐n̸͙͍̟̓͂͋̓̂́̐̈́͐̂̈́͐̓́̇́͠ ̷̘̬͔̳̝̣̥̟̤͙͓͈̦̥̼̰͌̇͂́͒͐̑͊̎̋́͗͛͑̀͘p̴̧̩͓̲̻̦̭̄̽̒͐̐̓̌̈́͝r̴̡̩̩͕̫̙͙͇͒̽̐̂̊ơ̸͓͕̦̫͓̻̜̫͊̒͆́͂̑̃͊͝b̶̨̥̦̞̟̼͑͒͊̈͋̈͌͘͠ä̴̛̘́̉̒̇̊̿̒̏͂̏̑͐̍̽̍̾͘͘͝b̶͙̗̭͚͚͓̱̫͇̎͌̽̍̕͘l̵̨̡̧̡̛̼̩̱̺͙̈́͐̂̉̆̈́͗̅͝ỷ̶̧̛̲̹͉̜̮̟̗̭̰̼̤̤͎̐͗͒̃́̅̂̈́͑́͊͋͊̏̆͝ ̸̧̢̨̛̰͎̘̰̠̼̹͕̭̿̎̊͂̈́̈́̂̆̀͊b̶̧̰̺̻͕̙̹̣̬̜̲̮͚̤̥̈́̒͆͜ͅͅe̷̛̹̩͔̝͔̞̾͆̔̓̓̉̀̊͝͝ ̶̢̮̼̺̗͉̟̻̯̝͕͎̬̎̿͌͆̈́̇̽̅̿̈̚͝ͅą̸̛̖͓̫̬̣̮̞͉̰̬̝̓̈́͠t̸̢̢̮͇̝̹̝͙̻̰̣̠̂͌͛͒̌̎̎͊̏̿͂̓͜ͅṫ̵̤̼̳̦̽̄͊̎̉́̔͋͛̑́r̵̡̧̘͎͍͓̯̜̠̹̳̫̣͔̮̩̩͛̽͛̎̊͌̅͊̒̇̓̌̊̀͐͘͜͜͠͝͝ͅï̷̡̻̯̹̪̺̻̝̺̤̜̻̜̹͕̣̯̊ͅͅb̸̡͕͔̣̫͖̙̯̼̲͛̐̏̑̅̊́̅̒͐̀̀̃̕͘̚͜͠ư̶̩̘̝̭͕̋̂͌̄͆̑̒͜t̶̨̢̝͙̳̱̰̮̘̳̖̬̞̗̮̤́̍̈́̏͊̂͒͊̏̚͜͜͝ͅȩ̶̛̺͖̳̜͚̩̙̺̌̔̈͊̓̊̈̌̿̚͠d̷̢̪̼͓̙̦̬̱̫͓̞̫̱̫̜̰͒̿͜͝ ̸̡͙̩͙̘̦̱̝͇̻́͒́͋̀͆́̃͂̈́̒̄̊́͘͠ͅţ̸͎̹̦͊͌̅̀̐͂͋͐́̀͘ǫ̸̝̬̭̗͕̱̯̠̖̥̩̪͎̦͈̩̣̙͍́̔ ̸͉̰͛̇̔̓͗̄̾͌͐͒͋͂̈́̔̎̉̓͘t̶͔͐͆͊̅̓̌̔̐͂͑̇̓͌̋̃h̷̫̲̦̘͒̆̌̐̎̽̆̔̈́̈͂͌́̎̿̉̄͜͝͠ȩ̶̢̛͕̝͎͚̝̭̦͚̪̞̯̲̋̾͋͂ͅḯ̴̡̯͎̪̤̖͚̼͔̩̩̩̙̜̖́͆̑͝ŕ̶̰̪͉̑ ̶̢̡̡̨̨̗̱̦̗̜̤͇̳̗̯̩̟̺͈̍̈́̈̒̍̀͗̍̇̓͘͠v̸̧̭̞̩͈͒̐̌͂̃͆̿̌̊̔́͝e̴̡̛̹͚͖̹͙̩̠̠̯̥̗͊̑͜ͅĝ̸̨̨̧̨̨͇̳̤̠̻̙͎̟̅́͆̏̌͋̏̔͛͒̈́̃̈́̏̓̂͑̕ą̷͈̯̫̺̳̹̥̜͙̗̠̀̒͆͐̍͛̂͗̕ǹ̷̢̧̡̧͓̣͕̘̫̙̼͍̞̳̰̱͖̖̑͒͒̓̑̽͌̿́̊͗͐̈́̈̀͌̀͛͘ ̷̛̛͓̺̽̽͆͝l̷̗̪͎͍̞̹͇̭̣͎̲̠̭̝͑̍̓́̈́́͂͂́́̕͠ï̵̢̱̘͍̬̲̙̦̹̣͕̥͂ͅf̶̖̘̥̉̃̓̉̑͒̽̿̄̈͂́̊̕͠ę̴̛͍͉̜̭̱̬̟̠̮̺̲̘̱̍̈́͛̏̎́̒̉͊̏̾̍̚͜͠ͅs̶̢̥̝͇̮̈́̀̏͛͐̑̎̒͛͆͘t̸̠̗̻͈͈̾̿͛̾͝y̸̰̘̯̎̀̌̋̓̚̚̕͜͝l̴͓̖̝̪̪͍͖̯̪̙̆͒̇̀̈́̈̇̀̾̏̆̿̚͝e̸̹͕͚̺̫̯̝͔̤͐̀̇͌̃̚͠ ̶̨̨͕̙̖̤͇̘̖͇̹̣͈̟̹̲̟̞̏͋͛̽͜o̷̜͍̙͉̠̖̻̪͈͓͕̜̠̲̲͎̘̭̾̋̊́̔͒̿͘͝ͅn̶̡̛̮̙̠̯̣͇͚̣̝̟͎͚̺̟̣͛̈́̈̿̓̀̌̍͘̚̕̚͜͝ ̶̨̡͖̫̗̠͉̼̭̺͓̪̙͋̾̀̆̈́̐̚ͅt̸̨̖̠̻̖̊̎̍̓̀̅ḩ̷̹͓̖̳̟̘̮͖̤̙̪̯̘̈̇̊̔͛̒́͋́̔̅̃̀͂̑́͜͝ͅé̶̞̥͈͓̹̓̈́͐̾͛́̈̾̂̑̿͗͋͑̔̚͠͝i̴̥̦̯͈͉̳̙͇͚̦̠̻͔̤̜̙͙̘̗̾ṛ̵̐̎͆͑͑͠ ̸̡̧̥͚̳͔̗͈͓͇̮̘̞̲͇̮͊̑͗̊̿̋́̀͋̉̀̓͘ͅͅm̵̛̞̼̺̈́̄̄̆̾̀̔̉̈͌̎̍͐̀̈́͝ͅy̴̧͙̻̺͈̯͍̟͓̺̮͍̮̫͈̠̼̐̈̾͗͋͘͝͠ͅs̴̨̢̰̭̫̳̺̘̙̘̭͍͚̦̙̳͊́̈́̀́͑̐͐̕̚͘ͅͅt̸̨͎̘̱͇̱͇͎͈̗̤̭͉̫͓͉̙̾͑́͒̍͌́̔̉͜͜ͅȩ̵̢̧̺͍͖̫̟̥̤̥̟̰̼̻̺̼͔̀̀͗̋̌̿̀̎͋̂̐͐͜ṙ̷̡̙͙͉̬̯̺̖̼̳̠͉͔͇͉̣͓͙͖͑̇͗̓̌͑̌̚i̶̡̢̞̱̗̓̅̌͆̽̏͊̊̒̔̄͝͝͝͝ơ̶͖̰͉̱͖̩̞͙̱̖̏̑͋͂̊͒̌̎͊̑̂ŭ̷̧͖̰̱͌̾̕̚ŝ̶͙͚̠̜̼̀̀͝ ̵͎͖̈́͒̄̌̑̿͑̓̽h̵̻̦̓͑͛̍͗͝ọ̵̤̌̓̌͝m̷̢͓̝͉̙̳̪͖̥̖̮̠̝̦͓̃̇͊͋̎̌͒͋͑͆̊̍̒͆͒͘͘̚͝e̵̬̙̲̗̥͓̹̬̝̗̜̻̬̻̼̾̔͛́̎̓̄̐͜͜͝ͅl̶̢͓̞̪͕̝̆̅̃ấ̶͕̣̌̊̇̊̓̔͌̒́̕͘͠͝n̸̬͈̬͙̣̮̳͖̼͈͔̻͍̬̅͜͜ͅd̵̻̖̍ ̷̫̮̩͉̘͎̻̙̹̗͔̻̮̝͕̼̦̳̈́̀̃̇̅̅̃̇̽̕̚͘ơ̷̧̻̬̜͖͓̫̭̘̼̪̹͒͗̈́̆́͊̃̋̄̊̍̎̈́̃̋͋͝f̴̋̀͆̔ͅ ̴͕̳̞̰̗̼͖̠͓̙͇͔͈̈͋͗̑̍̾̈́̿̀̍͊̈́̕̕͝F̸̟̣̃̍̒å̷͕̼̪͖̪̰̖̙̯̔̚ͅļ̷̼̗̗̥̭̦̻͚̼̜̫̙̜̳̣̠͊͆̿̈̌͆̀̽͝͝í̶̧̧̛̮͇̟͔̣̳͍͖̥͉͙̬̭̝͎̬̹̙̂̒͒̀̉̈́͊͂̀̃̽̅̓͘̚ņ̵͙̰̖̮̝̝̜̪̼̼͔͝ṣ̵̛̫̦͚̼͉̫̍͌̍͛̕t̶̼̱̳̲̝̻͈͍̭͓͐ͅą̵̞̫̳̟̦̯̪̗͎͕̫͓͕̞̂͋̊̕͘̚͝đ̸̢̖̦̗͉͓͍̻͋̍͒͊͊̂̄͑̎͘͘.̴̧͖͉̰̈́ ̷̡̤̠̹͔̥͓͓̬͚̐̅͊̔͊̒̓̔̏̽̊̿̐̑͑̀͆͝͝͠Ṕ̴̯͚͖̥͙̰̳̲͍͕̤̠̳̳̘͇̻̒̀͒̔̅ͅh̴̢̨͔̼͍̻͇̣͔́̎ͅͅy̶̧̥̮̣͖̤͈͕̠̘͔̥̒͆̃̊͂́̀̈̈̓̾̈́͘̕ͅş̷̧̨͕̞̟͉̗͕̱̠̹̯̋͐̓͂̒̄̑̈̄̋̾͠i̶̛̲̣̰̣̦͈̙̙̖͖̫̕͘͝ͅc̸̬͓̦͈̹̞̺͕̯͚̩̟̠͗̉̏̂͜a̷̤̩͔̲̩̻̮͕͆́͛̆̍͘͜l̶̢̻̹͇͉̬̰͍͓̫̦͙̬̞͎͈̥̟̺̊͋̃͌̈̿̃l̶̢̗̜̗͚̭̙̥̯̪͍͖͎̻̗̩̥̭͋͝y̶̛̹̟̍̊̒̒͆́̏̃̇̂̏̕̚͝,̶̢̱͎̱̟̜̘͕̘̳͇͉̟̮̝͛̿̓̌̏̄̇͋͗͆̈͊͋͜ ̵͇̓̽̏́̾͛̽̅͗̂̚̚͘͝͠t̸̛̺͎͋̎͋̍̑̐̂̏̆̈̏́́̋͐͝h̴͕̖̰͇͈̩̬̠̙̝̜͚̥͇̗̻̤̩͔͐̽͒̊̆̐̕̚͝e̴̛͇͇̮͚̯͆͑̈́͊̾̋͂̂͊̐̀̐̒͘͠͠y̸̰͓̳̣̯̖̻͆̐̒́̍͆͗̄̑͋͝͝ ̷̨̝́̀̀̓̇̚a̸̢͍͚̤̥͈͙̼̳͕̻̲̐̃̑͂͛͐́̈́̀͊̅̽̑̆́͘r̵̨͍̤͙̯̬̉͗̔̂̄͊̆͌̿̎̂̄͜͠ȅ̵͈̼͍͇̥̈́̾̃̔̉́̓̑̀͒̚̚̚͜͜͝͝͠͠͝ ̴͎̝͈̼̤̹̓͆̀̀̀̉̅̃̿̓́́̏̍͝͠p̶͕̩͓̜̮̩̱̭̱̫̎͊ŗ̴̰̙͔͉̦̰̰̖͚͓̣̗̽͑͜͠ẻ̶̢̧̨͙̩̘̱̭̘̻̣͍͕͍̳͎̦͜ṣ̶̞͍̪̻̤̝̰̳͊ͅu̷̗͖̙̼̺̩̩͎͈̯̲͎̲̞̩͐ͅm̴̞͋̿̓̏̀̒̊̀̑̚e̷̪̠͔̳̘͚̖̹̒̃̈́́̈́̈́ḑ̸̘̫̯̬̤͙͍̭̉͊̓́̾͊̎̀͛ ̸̧̡͇̞͈̰̘̱̗̮͔̍̽͆͆̈́̾̇́͌̓̔͆͘͜ͅt̵̡̨̡͍͉̙̺͙̫͉̞̬̮̙͂̃͑̕͜ͅǫ̸̭̟̗̱͍̙̼̝̳̤̬̭̪̤̖̙̦̀̾̉͐̀̀͋̽̃̃̓̅̓̿̔͗͂̓̕ ̵͔̹̥̰͈̜͉̹͂͒̀̎̌͛̇̃͊́̍͝b̴̨̡̢̜̬͍̳̘̰̳̳̭̟̖̒̃̈͋̀́̄͊̌̓̑̑̾͊̋̔̕̚͝e̵͎̮̓̑̋͋̄̏͊̿͋̊͝͝ͅ ̷̞͔̩̳͉͇̣͙̠̜͓̗̻̙̼̈͑̄̃̎̾̈́͜w̶͙̞͓̠̘͚̥̞̲̞̫̪̝̩̣̓̽̓̀̃̈́̃̋͋͂̌̾̍̒͊̋͋͜ė̸͖̗̮͇̪͕̫͎͙̘̠͕̻̰̙́̏̎̓̔̀̌̒͜͠ͅa̶̛̻͓̱̔ḱ̷̛͔̗͖͇̿̾̄̃̆̈́̽̈́͛͑̅͋̚̕͝é̶̡̛̲̙͚͆͋̊̍̊̏́̅͌͒͗̋̂͐̍͠ŗ̷̨̟̖̟̬̻̭̠̘̦̠̼͓̮̰̳̤̎͑̿̍̒͐̉̈́͋̑͋̍̚͘͘̚͠͝͠ ̸̫̺͉͕̫̺̰̟̻͔̦̬͉̱̙̀̿ͅa̴̧̨̗̠͕̩̟͈̥̭̳̜̒̄̾͐͂̋͒̐̊̿̀̈́̑̐͊͜͜͜͠͠n̷̛̛͇̯̥̿̍̋̐̈́̄͂̀̐̍̋̈́̓̄̚͠ḑ̵̨̢̛̗̱͔̞͕͈̳̪̹̤̥͓̭̯̹͇͆̃͋̆̉͒̂̓͋̈̐̑͘̕̚͘͜͠ ̶̙̥̮̝̞̈́͛͊̃͝ş̸͖͉̳̟͕̥͖͖̬̘̩͔͇͓̻̔̈́͊͐͆͝͝͠ͅĺ̵̹̤̜̑̀̓͌͛̐̾͊̋͘͜o̷̢̲̭̮͕̒͂͐̍͊͊͋̽̾̕͘w̴͔͚̞̺̮̫̯̖̭̯̹̝͗́̓́̏̒̑́̂̓̑̽̈́̉͜ͅe̵̪͎̩̩̪̪̘͖̞͈̮͕̅͠ŗ̷̛̪̤̺̗͓͍̌́͆͂̐͗̓͂͘̕͝ ̵̨̼͈̦̲̪̘̰͙̓ṫ̸̛̗̰̄̂̇̃̏͑̌̒̎͂̔͘͝͠h̸̢̗͉̙̗͍̬̲͚͆̂̐̐̉͝a̷̧̺̯̜̟͚̩͈̖̫͚̐̐̔̎̈́͂͜ͅͅn̶̡̧͉̩̲̹̣̮̺͌̊̂̿͋̈̉̉̈́͆̕͜͝ ̸̢̨̹̥̦̫̘̘̦̮̼͎͖̰̘̼̗̞̥̻̾̐̒͆̿́̔̉̽̑͂̂̏̿̓̊͊͒͠͠m̸̮̰̪̭̬͚͖̮͓͕̖̬͎̟̩̀͑͌͂̋͗̔͛o̷̢̬̝͔̮͓͓̰̻̅̎̅̋̈́̏͌̇̿̇͠s̸̢̡̤̲̼͉̣̺̝͉̪͚̦̯̞̰̳͍͍̆͆̕ẗ̴̙̦͖̘́̎̀͆̔̕ ̵̯̾̔͝s̶̺̖͚͔͉͙̬͎̯͓͆́̔͑ͅp̷̡̩͖̝͙͚͇̙̮͕͓̘̳̰̱̻̦͘ͅͅẹ̸̰͇͑̂̀̇̈́̓̀͑̆̃͛͊͊͠͝c̵̨̡͓͖͓̮͓̭̪̰̺̲̹̏̌͆͊̃͗͠i̷̛̝̣̜͐̅̽̽͆͐̈̉̈̅͆͗́̆͂̽̌́ͅe̸̦̞̲̦̞̙̥̥͉̹̞̰͋̃̂̔̉̓̽̄́̔̓̐͝ş̶̡̢̢̛̛̬͓͕̞͈̼̞̥̤͔̤̮͐̅́̌̿́̈̀̔͆̃͐̀̎͆͗̆͘͜ͅ ̶̢̛͎͚̹̫̲̜̤̳͍̞͕̖̤̮͈̰̤̖͐̅̄͘ḑ̵̡͙̰̱̳͍͔̱̙̭̼̬̺͈̜͍̃̏̚u̵̞̼̱̥̞̬̫̰̼͚̭͔̤̽͗̈́̉ͅe̶̛̮̤̲̲̼̋̽͋̌̃̓͗̍̈́̓́̀́̉͆̔͘͘͝ ̵̯̤͕̲̥̬̀̓̑̑̍̾ͅt̷̖͈̞̳͑̔̏̈́͛̌͊͑̅̈́̊͌̈͝͝o̴̢͉̰͉̹͓̩̗͚̦̻͈̱͔̖̬̳̐ ̴̼̣̣̩͙͍̳̝͎͕̋͂̆̈́̄͌͊̌̍ť̷̡̮͉͂̀̈͆͐̕h̸̢̯̹̠̀̍͊̈ę̷̮̟̖̤̬͕̪͉̭̦̬̮̖̺͙̼̫̫̰͌͝i̸̢̯̹̦͚̜̾r̷̩͉͂̒̅̓̇̍̐͂̓̚̚͝ ̵̡̡̣̹͈̤̻̫̯͇̫̞͉͙̜̟̾̏̈̈͐̍̅̿͆͌n̴̥̰̳͇̣͈͚̭̫̈́̎̏́͘͜ơ̶̤̮͓̤̼̞̿̽͛̾̀̂̇̎́͗̊̀͝ͅn̵̳͎̖̞̜̤̬͔͓̫̥̦̲̮͎̒͐͊̊̈́͊̐̊̐͛̆ͅ-̶̢̢̡̛̪͙̠͔͍͛̎̀͑̿̊̀̄̐̋̈́̕͘͘͝h̶̡̻͍͚̖̯͖͈͋̅́̂̒̆͛̕͝ö̶͎̟̦̳͖̯͕̗̟̼̟̍̈͌̉̽͒͐̓̽̄̔̈́͛̎̿́ş̶̧̨̢̛̫͓̙͍͙̝̤̰̳̼͎̮̠̤̜̉̾̊̊͊̋͋̚͘͜͠t̴̡̺̺͚̟͍̩̹̲̼̞̹͖̗̖͠ͅi̶͕͈̪̣͖̗͕̦̥͓̟̽̓̿̀̊̓͒̔̌̉́̓̉̄͜l̴̢̛̛͚̖̞̦̺͑̇́̒̔̃̀̌͒̽̈́̉͒̆̊̕ͅe̴̡̦̭͑͛ ̷̧̡̧̡̢̢̩͔̹̟̣̫͖̬̩̝̫̮̌͌̋̉̒̓̃̈́͜e̴̺͉̐̓̈́͐̀̊̂̈̌͗̅̿͝x̵̧͙̘̅̂́̓͛͂͒͐̽̽̈́̅̇̔̂̕̕͠i̵͇̘̳̩̞͈̞̞̘͉̟̽̓̏̇̔̊̿͆͗̊͛́̽̓̓̄͘͝ș̷̢̡͈̱̥̙͉̜̪̥̜̙͉̱͙͚̪̟͉͗͑̐̽͌͝ţ̴̧̱̳̗̘͕̖̑̽͌ȩ̵͖̟̣̬͈̤̪̝͖̮̦͔͚̒̾̑̋̆̇͌͘͜͜͝ͅͅņ̶̛̙̖͈̦̲̦̻͍̤̖̝̜̙͓̠̑̓͜͠ͅç̶̢̨̤̪̙̗͈͕͕̠̫̣̞̆̓̿̀́͗̉͐̕é̷̢̡̛̬͔͉͈̮̹̦͔̤̬̻̟̝̬̪́͗͗̒̔̃̔͜͝.̶̨̡̜̗̱̩͍̼͕̘̫̲̻̽͗͂͗̈̏͜ ̵̧̧̛̤̩̱̱͚͇̲̹͓̩̜͉̲͔̩̼̗̰̔̐̅̉̌͊́̈̏̒͂̔̚T̵̰̣̹̰̳̰͓̀͊̔͗̐̌̈̎͋̽́̍̓̇͝͠͝͝ḩ̶̛͕̣̻̭̖̦͚͔̩̲̩͇̂́͌̑̏̍̋̆̾͂̑̽̿͜͝ͅę̵̖̥̬̞̙̘̜̯̦͇̻̭̟̙͉͌̂̊̈́́

(These pages seem to be covered in some sort of green gunk; their contents are illegible.)

Ante Lucem

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Chapter 2 ~ Geography

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In all my years of exploration, I was continuously surprised by how easily I fell in love with the new landscapes I discovered. Tyrrania is a world of such awe-inspiring beauty, from the vast mountains that burst holes in the clouds to the endless blankets of lush forest that caress the land; even the golden spread of poor Tumeken has a haunting emptiness that forces the heart to skip a beat.

I've been fortunate enough in my life to visit every opposing corner of Tyrrania, unearthing secrets a plenty and discovering the hidden treasures our fine land has to offer. Below, I detail my wealth of findings in the hopes that they will prove useful on your own travels. Attached overleaf is a map, illustrated beautifully under my own guidance by Amor's finest cartographer, Mr. R. Marnie. But remember, Reader; for every mystery I solved, a dozen more remain hidden, just waiting to be discovered.

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· Amorynthia ·

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Amorynthia is the largest and wealthiest kingdom in Tyrrania. Ruled by King Valdez III, the region has a reputation for being politically underhanded when it comes to monetary gains. The council stooped as low as to exploit Dwarven kind in order to gain the upperhand on the once-great nation of Tumeken. Amorynthia is the most diverse land in Tyrrania, with a wealth of races, terrains, religions and trades existing within King Valdez' rule.

Amor (The Second Capital)

Amor is one of Amorynthia’s two capital cities. Despite being the largest standing city in Tyrrania, it is known to Amorynthians as the ‘Second Capital’. It is built predominantly of tough grey stone with architecture that favours durability over adornment. Amor is a city of labour; its residents work hard to keep the city running and pay their taxes. Known for its roaring trade, the centrepiece of Amor is the marketplace, from which many of the cities greatest tradesman sell their wares. Surrounding the market lies a ring of independent stores and shops for more specific trades, such as armouries, apothecaries , tailors and carpentries. The city’s largest source of income is its thriving fishing trade, which is unmatched anywhere else in the region. Beyond the trade district lies the residential area; most people live in tall, stone tenements, but richer families may own their own houses. On the outskirts of the city lies the area known to locals as The Shambles; a ghetto-like slum that shows the worst effects of King Valdez’ high taxes.

Bellepoint

Bellepoint is a large abbey dedicated to Carminda, goddess of beauty and song. The abbey is open to women only, and is run by the Sisters of St. Caroline; an early Carmindan prophet. The abbey is tall and ornate, made from white stone and decorated with gold and beautiful stained glass windows depicting various events of religious importance. The main feature is the tall bell tower, which the sisters ring every day at dawn to celebrate the beauty of life. The abbey is named as such because of the glorious views from the tower; facing North, one can see the lush land of Amorynthia and facing South reveals a sapphire ocean, with the golden sands of Tumeken on the horizon.

Blithfield

A small village, Blithfield is home to around thirty people. Once a popular stop for anyone heading west into the forests of Blith, nowadays most sane folk stay clear of those parts and so trade in Blith is relatively slow. Still, Emily Batt’s General Store manages to sell enough wares to sustain itself, and the Major Oak Inn is a popular spot for locals in the evenings, with rooms available for the rare visitor to the village. The latter establishment was rebuilt about burning down some forty years ago, which is probably the most exciting occurrence in the relatively uneventful history of Blithfield.

Broadmarsh

Once part of the lush forests of Blith, Broadmarsh is the name now given to the putrid swamp which has overtaken much of the land. Very little is known of the swamp or why it appeared; but it continues to grow each year, and some fear it may spread and ruin Amorynthia, similarly to the Great Drought of Tumeken. Attempting to venture into Broadmarsh means near-certain death; if one is not lost in the rotting woodlands or swallowed by the thick pools of mud, then the various goblins, orks and other bog-dwellers are sure to finish off the unprepared adventurer.

Dray

Dray is a large town, bordered on each side by the forests of Ryth and the Amorynthian shore. Its coastal position and strong relationship with nearby Middlewood has caused the town to naturally direct itself towards shipbuilding; the Dray shipyard is considered the finest producers of sea vessels, at least by human standards. In recent years, a small population of Dwarves have settled in Dray and set up partnerships through which they pool talent and resources with human shipbuilders to create the most exquisite vessels in the land. The town’s dock is always busy, be it for repairing boats or sending out fresh vessels with their new owners, and thus it has a booming trade of markets and inns and attracts many sailor-folk.

Drayling

An incredibly small hamlet, Drayling is home to only ten or so people. There is little to be found in Drayling by means of trade, with the locals sourcing most of their goods from the nearby markets of Dray. The residents all cooperate on running a farm; the produce of which they sell in Dray as well as eating themselves. The farming folk have been known to offer temporary accommodation in return for an extra pair of hands on the farm.

Dunnside

Dunnside is the most fortunate of the villages around the Great Lakes; home to around seventy people and situated right on the banks of Lake Dunn, the village is known all across Amorynthia for its successes fishing and selling the rainbow carp that inhabit the waters. The beauty of these fish brings many a tourist to the village, and so there are two successful inns to be found in the Shiny Scale and the Golden Rod. Even royalty have been recorded visiting the small settlement. However, it is not held in high regards by neighbouring Blithfield and Marshside, who feel Dunnside should have offered some aid when their trades were ruined by the Broadmarsh.

Gard

Gard is the only settlement in Amorynthia recognised as a city without being classed as a capital. Despite being one of the most efficient industry hubs in the kingdom, Amorynthia makes very little profit from it’s lucrative Dwarven-led mining and smithy industries. A primarily Dwarven settlement, Gard is perhaps the only place in Amorynthia where the Dwarven population outnumbers that of humans. Despite the Dwarven rebellion which led many Dwarves north into Vastoria, the race is still unfairly taxed by the palace and the only thing keeping many Dwarves this side of the mountains is the threat of Nosferytes and the embargo placed upon rebels ruining their trade. Gard’s poverty is apparent: its rough stone structures lie mostly in disrepair, crudely reinforced so that they are just-functional. There is a high-crime rate committed in the city’s outskirts, mostly by human hand, which does not aid the plight of the Dwarves. Despite its size, Gard offers little in the way of stores, though there is a plethora of the best smithies, armouries and weaponries in the land, that provide its people with enough to live on – and would make them very wealth, were they not so heavily taxed.

Gardian Mines

The Gardian Mines are the largest known mines in Amorynthia, an intricate network of tunnels dug by the Dwarves and heavily saturated with tens of various metals ores; both durable and precious. Deeper in the mines, it is not unusual to find rare gemstones. The mines are fitted with a cart system devised by the industrious Dwarves, which makes transport of goods and personnel throughout the cavernous system fairly easy and comfortable, if passengers can tolerate with a bumpy ride.

Great Lakes

The Great Lakes are two bodies of water to the west of Amorynthia. Lake Dunn is famed for its crystal clear waters, which are said to be drinkable direct from the source. It is home to many rainbow carp, a large and colourful fish whose beauty is rivalled only by its taste. Lake Blith once shared these traits, but is now in the early stages of pollution by the nearby swamps. Its waters are cloudy and pale green in colour, and few dare to eat what little fish remain for fear of poisoning. Lake Blith has become known as The Once Great Lake by locals.

Hillan

Bordering the cruel Vastorian mountains seemed like a strategic move to the early settlers of Hillan, believing it would protect them from any Northern aggression. But the trolls native to the mountains are much better climbers than humans, and the erection of a town at the base of their home was enough to lure them down from the cliffs in search of food. The townsfolk quickly assembled the Vastorguard; a group of their finest men dedicated to defending Hillan from the trolls. Aside from this on-going war, Hillan is a relatively peaceful town with a selection of stores, a small marketplace and a singular inn; The Slow Pace.

Iris Rock

A lighthouse maintained for generations by the people of Tethersall, Iris Rock is relatively special if only for the rumours that swirl around it. Legend goes that, on a full moon, in the beam of the lighthouse one can view a large island out on the horizon; never otherwise visible. Whether the story holds any merit or not is unclear; the operators of the lighthouse are old and there is little else to attract visitors to Tethersall. It is largely considered to be an old wives’ tale.

Marshside

Originally called Greenside, the villagers of this small settlement felt compelled to rebrand themselves when their namesake became a filthy bog. Fortunately, they are far enough away from Broadmarsh for it to not affect their fishing or farming industries, and the village makes a fair trade selling goods to the Northern settlements, offering a highly desirable delivery service through the Gardian Hills. It attracts few visitors and is a largely self-sustaining community of around fifty residents.

Middlewood

Middlewood is a small village with a population of roughly 50 people. Located in the middle of the lush forests of Ryth, Middlewood has made a name for itself through using the resource they are surrounded by: wood. A village of skilled lumberjacks and carpenters, the best woodwork in Amorynthia is said to come from Middlewood. Of course, some of the more business-savvy tradesmen have moved their craft and set up shops in Amor, but enough master craftsmen remain in Middlewood to attract custom from all over Amorynthia. The people of Middlewood are environmentally conservative and replant several trees for each one they fell; they are particularly concerned with protecting the faerie folk who call the surrounding forests their home. They frequently build small wooden houses for the faeries and attach them to trees in the dense woodland.

Rat's Nest

Rat’s Nest is a barren island of stone lying off the coast of Gard. Its isolation and strategic placement have made it the unofficial home of pirates and other criminals of the sea, with various primitive moorings dotted around the small island’s shores, along with an assortment of wooden shacks and halls that host the seafarers during their time on land. It is rumoured that a large cavern exists beneath the island, within which the pirate’s treasure trove can be found – though few are foolish enough to risk the pirate’s greedy wrath and find out.

Ryth (The First Capital)

The ‘First Capital’, Ryth is a relatively small city in comparison to its sister. Named as such for being the city where the royal family resides, Ryth is situated on the outskirts of the lush Amorynthian forests. It incorporates a lot of its green surroundings into the city itself; there are many trees and gardens amongst the marble courseways. Much of the city is crafted from thick marble and adorned with gold leaf ornamentations and details. It is a lavish city, and anyone looking for where the bulk of Valdez’ taxing ends up can look no further than the city of Ryth. Little trade operates from with Ryth itself; it is mostly a home for the soldiers and noblemen of Amorynthia; those employed by the King are subsidised in order to afford to live in the First Capital, under the premise that they should be close to his palace.

Silvermoor

Sitting at the foot of the Gardian Hills, the busy town of Silvermoor is a popular point of passage between the North and South regions of Amorynthia. Famed for its friendly hospitality, Silvermoor is often a mixing pot of various types of people; from Dwarves moving South to sell their wares, to fools heading North in search of adventure, there are always interesting folk to be found here in one of the town’s five inns: The Black Ferret, The Jug & Glass, The One-Eyed Badger, The North Star and The Fellow’s Rest. Unfortunately, Silvermoor’s welcome does not extend to everyone: the town is inherently fearful of magic-users, following a feud with the nearby Wizard’s Tower that goes back many generations. The townsfolk live in fear that one day the wizards will seek revenge over an act the people of Silvermoor claim no responsibility for.

Sinclair Estate

A large manor house surrounded by many acre of game land, the estate was once home to the illustrious Sinclair family. Lord Sinclair’s immense wealth earned him many favours from the King, and his family seemed exempt from most laws of the land in return ‘charitable donations’. One such example of Sinclair’s influence over the King includes having a stream redirected towards the estate, to give the Sinclairs their own personal water supply. However, around the time that Broadmarsh began to form, tragedy hit when the family, their staff and even their livestock were found dead. Nothing in the house remained alive; even their house plants had mysteriously withered. It later transpired that their water supply had been poisoned; whether by the Broadmarsh or some other means is still up for debate. One thing is for certain; no one dares to go near the Sinclair Estate even to this day, for fear that the poison lingers… And for the eerie screams that are said to come from the empty house.

Tethersall

A small village on the Southern coast, Tethersall is relatively nondescript. Couple this with the fact that it is buried deep within the forests of Ryth, it is easy to see why it attracts so few visitors. Most of Tethersall’s residents are elderly retired folk, and the village boasts no real industry or trade. The community hall is a small communal space that hosts the events of The Tethersall Men’s Club and the Women of Tethersall Committee; social clubs that all but one of Tethersall’s residents are subscribed to. This lone spinster is largely ostracised by her neighbours. The Tethersall Men’s Club works on a voluntary basis to operate and maintain the lighthouse on Iris Rock.

Valeview

The village of Valeview sits on a cliff edge on the very border of Amorynthia and Tumeken, though it falls under the territory of the former. Named for its impressive views of the Lesobi Valley and Fool’s Mistake, Valeview makes most of its business by selling supplies to adventurers crossing the border. There a several rooms available at the Rising Sun Inn, where travellers might spend the night before continuing their journeys.

Widow's Pass

Named by the villagers of nearby Blithfield, it is said that men who venture beyond Widow’s Pass seldom return. The pass itself is relatively pleasant, and serves as an entry point to the forests of Blith and the Broadmarsh that threatens to destroy them.

Witchaven

Witchaven made a name for itself as one of the most prosperous farming villages this side of Ryth, but its business was ruined by the appearance of Broadmarsh, which rendered their ground infertile. Whilst many neighbouring villages and towns were swallowed up by the swamp, the people of Witchaven are unique in that they stayed put, determined not to leave their heritage. They built new homes, raised on stilts and connected by bridges, that protected them from the poison swamplands below. Growing produce from large allotments with imported soil, the villagers of Witchaven make enough money to sustain the simplistic lifestyle they have been forced to adopt.

Wizard's Tower

The Wizard’s Tower is one of the oldest institutions in Amorynthia, with the original tower said to have been built when Amor was a mere village. Here, those versed in the magical arts pass down their knowledge to the next generation of spellcasters. The Tower had a petty feud with the nearby town of Silvermoor, which continued to escalate until the centuries-old tower was burned to the ground one summer’s eve. Most of the wizards used their knowledge to fight off the flames, but few did perish in the tragedy. Fortunately, the centuries of magical research in the Grand Library were protected with enchantments that saved them from the blaze. Now, the tower has been restored; but the wizards are angry, and there are whispers that Archmage Tripaldi has plans of revenge for the people of Silvermoor.

Woodsend

Woodsend is a town just on the outskirts of Greenwood. Woodsend is relatively well-off, situated close to the First Capital of Ryth. It has its own market where various tradesmen sell their wares; though Woodsend has a particular reputation for jewellery imported from the North. Whilst the precious items available here are indeed exquisite; they are pale in comparison to those offered in the Gardian Hills. Woodsend has a poor reputation with the Sisters of St. Caroline, originating from when jewels stolen from the abbey suspiciously ended up on the town’s marketplace.

Wraithtown

A small town and a once-thriving fishing community, Wraithtown is the westernmost settlement in Amorynthia. It made a name for itself through the trade of various fish native only to the waters in the far west; out of reach to other fishermen. The town has been especially unlucky over the last century and stands now as a ghost of its former self. After the town was cursed by a woman scorned, each night the surviving townsfolk became wild, wolf-like beasts with no self-control. In this form, they murdered the surrounding towns and villages and lost most of their trade. Many years later, the residents of Wraithtown live in isolation in order to protect outsiders from the monsters they become. This solitude has been aided by the appearance of the Broadmarsh, and Wraithtown has been largely forgotten about.

---

· Tumeken ·

---

Once as lush as Amorynthia and twice as wealthy, Tumeken was ruined centuries ago by a freak drought that ravaged their cities and reduced to land to barren dunes of sand. Ruled by the Pharaoh King Setsiput, the Tumek people have retreated South in search of a new life. This new beginning for the kingdom is rooted in servitude to the Elder God, Tum, whom they believe will bring water back to the land. In the meantime, they are accepting favours from Amorynthia; but no gesture from King Valdez comes without a price...

Asphodel

Asphodel is a town that has existed long before the newly erected city of New Tum. A group of religious fanatics existing in self-exile, the Asphodites believe that Tum is punishing the Tumeks for lack of faith. Some from their order moved to the neighbouring island and established the Salutem settlement. The Asphodites are unwelcoming to the Tumeks and have not provided them with any aid, believing that to do so would be against the wishes of their Goddess.

Duat Point

Duat Point is a large, ornate gate that sits on the coastline of Asphodel. Through the vast archway, viewers can see the island of Salutem directly in the centre, leading to the belief that it was built to guide people towards the island. The Asphodites refute claims that they themselves constructed Duat Point, claiming that it existed long before they arrived. The lack of significant damage through wears suggests these claims are untrue. Duat Point is used as the metaphoric entry point to Salutem, where one passes through the gate and boards a small boat to take them to the isle.

Fool's Mistake

A short ravine, Fool’s Mistake is the most practical and comfortable route into Tumeken. At least, it would be without the presence of the desert bandits who recognise the opportunities a presumed safe-pass brings them. The bandits target those foolish enough to take the easier path; robbing, raping and usually murdering those who fall prey to their livelihood.

Grand Temple of Tum

A huge temple in the centre of Salutem, the Grand Temple of Tum is one of the largest and grandest sites of worship in the whole of Tyrrania. It is believed to sit atop some site of religious importance; the nature of which is unclear, but taken very seriously by the Asphodites.

Great Pyramid

The Tumeks have long revered their rulers, moreso than in other kingdoms, believing their kings to have a direct connection to the Gods. When their leaders fall, the bodies are mummified and receive ceremonial burials here in the Great Pyramid, which is believed to direct their spirits to the Gods. Traditionally, huge crowds of people would gather at the pyramid for a king’s burial. Now that Tumeken has fallen to a more desert climate, it is customary for a group of nobles and skilled workers to lead the sarcophagus on a pilgrimage through the desert to the Great Pyramid. The journey is notoriously dangerous, with at least half of those dispatched failing to return.

Hall of the Pharaoh

The Hall of the Pharaoh is the royal residency of Tumeken, home to King Setsiput. It is ornate by most standards, but relatively humble compared to the old palace, that now lies in ruin in Old Tumek.

Lesobi Valley

Lesobi is a large valley that serves as an entry point to Tumeken from the neighbouring kingdom of Amorynthia. Whilst it is a much longer and less forgiving path than Fool’s Mistake, it is generally considered the safer route in the Tumek province due to the protection that the cliffs either side provide from hostile forces.

New Tumek

New Tumek is the beginning of the Tumek’s return to glory; still in its very early stages, the small city is pale in comparison to those grand ones before it that now lie in ruin. Forced to flee their homes by the drought, those families who survived the journey began to rebuild their lives here, where the land is not quite so unforgiving. The buildings here are largely made of wood, though the wealthier families may have managed to secure stone.

Ruins of Tumeken

The Ruins of Tumeken refers to the remains of the great cities of Tumeken; Nobuti, Hep and Tumek. Abandoned in panic when the lands were ravaged by drought, much of the vast sandstone cityscapes still remain, albeit dilapidated and weathered by neglect and the harsh conditions of the Tumek Desert. It is said that one could visit any of the houses in these ruins and find things exactly as they had been left all those years ago; albeit now in decay and disrepair.

Salutem

Known as the ‘Promised Land’, Salutem is a large, lush forest island lying east of the Tumeken coast. When one looks through Duat Point, Salutem is visible in the direct centre. For this reason, the Asphodites believe the island to be holy and blessed by Tum herself. The Asphodites have gradually begun populating the island since the Great Drought hit, turning it into a religious community where every home doubles as a chapel in Tum’s honour. The lives of those who live on Salutem revolve entirely around worship, which is symbolically represented by the Grand Temple of Tum in the centre of Salutem. Only those deemed ‘Holy Enough’ by the Asphodite priests are permitted to cross the water to Salutem.

Temple of Thanks

One of the few ornate buildings constructed since the Great Drought, the Temple of Thanks was erected in Tum’s Promise as a symbol of gratitude to the Goddess Tum. It is home to a small group of religious folk who maintain the church as well as running sermons in which sacrifices are made to Tum in hopes of reward.

Tum's Promise

Tum’s Promise refers to a small plane of land that is moist and fertile enough to produce grass. Though it is far from lush, the weak foliage is considered a sign of hope to the people of Tumeken, reminding them that not all is lost. They consider this a deliberate message from Tum herself, and so the land is considered holy.

Tumeku Crater

Previously known as Lake Tumeku, the vast lake once brought fresh and pure water to the lush land of Tumeken. Following the Great Drought, it now lays bone-dry like the rest of the region, leaving behind only a deep crater, blistered and cracked by the desert climate. It is debatable whether it is quicker for travellers to detour around the crater, or scale down its edges and pass straight though it.

---

· Vastoria ·

---

For the longest time, the mountainous region north of the Amorytes lay unoccupied due to its unforgiving terrain. However, during the Dwarven Revolution at the end of the Exploitation Era, a large party of Dwarven rebels moved North and settled independent of Amorynthia, in the land they named Vastoria. Unfortunately for the Dwarves, the rocky region was already home to some particularly territorial creatures, forcing them underground to live a subterranean existence.

Gravesend Bay

Lying on the North-West coast, Gravesend Bay is a fierce inlet that drags in the most aggressive currents from the cold North Sea. With its ferocious temper and jagged rocky outcrops, it is no wonder that so many ships have met their end in Gravesend Bay; their broken masts and ruined hulls litter the area, snagged on the sharp cliffside. Most of these vessels originate from Rotsanger; where tradition dictates that those Nosferytes who turn feral be deported from Port Rot, more often than not washing up on the shores of Gravesend Bay. Those Nosferytes who survive the journey must then scale the harsh rock if they are to stand any chance of survival in the long-run.

Kelda Tor

The very same opening from which the Dwarven rebels first entered Vastoria, Kelda Tor has a lot of cultural and historical signficiance for Dwarvenkind. As it is the same hole they retreated through when fleeing the Nosferytes, Kelda Tor can also be considered the entrance to the subterranean city the Dwarves have established. It is from this purpose that the site received its name. Considering its importance to the Dwarves, Kelda Tor is a relatively subtle landmark: a small, ornate archway, carved into the Cliffside, through which one can descend the stairs into New Kelda.

Mount Blut

The tallest peak of Vastoria, Mt. Blut is visible from all across the region. But what is not so obvious is that, deep within the frozen rock, lies a series of caverns that house the nests of feral Nosferytes. The network of tunnels and roughly carved chambers is known as The Hive and is generally avoided for fear of the savage creatures that use the mountain to sleep and reproduce. The Hive can be accessed from hundreds of entry points burrowed into the rock all the way up the mountain.

New Kelda

New Kelda is a small subterranean city established by the Dwarven rebels, forced into rebuilding underground by the feral Nosferytes that stalk the surface world of Vastoria. The city is hidden within a vast network of tunnels accessed through Kelda Tor, designed to protect the Dwarves from predators. New Kelda itself lies within a huge excavated cavern, large enough for the city to be built just as any on the surface would be. It is surrounded by a natural underground lake, which must be ferried across to gain access to the city. Huge bonfires are lit throughout the streets of the city and provide it with sufficient light and warmth, whilst clean water can be taken directly from the lake. Whilst there has been some attempt at farming in New Kelda, the crops are weak and most residents exist on a diet of soups and broths. When something more substantial is needed, Dwarves are known to venture onto the surface world in large groups to hunt down Nosferytes upon which to feast. New Kelda is ruled by King Vastor III, who occupies a humble palace to the East of the city.

Old Kelda

Old Kelda is the closest thing to a civilized settlement that can be found on the Vastorian surface. Built into a mountainside, the architecture of Kelda is practical and inornate; it is crafted almost entirely from thick stone, designed to protect the Dwarves from the harsh climate. However, the development of the settlement was interrupted when it attracted the attention of feral Nosferytes who began to ambush the settlers with increasing numbers and frequency. Unable to protect themselves, the Dwarves abandoned Kelda and retreated back underground. The deserted city became known as Old Kelda.

Rotsanger

A large island in the frozen North-West, isolated from the rest of Tyrrania by the desolate region of Vastoria, Rotsanger has been largely untouched. It is uncommon for most to pay it much thought at all, and among those who do it is widely considered nothing more than a frozen wasteland. And for the most part, this assumption would be true; vast, empty plains of snow and rock form the majority of Rotsanger. Thanks to an effect known as Dar’s Gift to residents of the island, sunlight only lasts for a few hours each day in Rotsanger, plunging it into night for unusually long periods of time. This makes it the perfect habitat for the Nosferytes that have made Rotsanger their home. The House of Drachall, headed by Lord Alrik Drachall, rules Rotsanger with an iron fist.

Steinplatz

Atop the tallest point of Rotsanger sits Steinplatz. A city of dark stone coated in thick frost, the architecture of Steinplatz is tall, grand and gothic, with church-like spires and arched windows being de rigueur on even the homes of the lowliest families. Steinplatz is home to one of Tyrrania’s most feared races: the Nosferytes. At the helm of Steinplatz sits Drachallturm, a large tower from which Lord Drachall oversees the region.

---

· Ithelm & Savizar ·

---

The 'twin islands' of Ithelm and Savizar are certainly not identical, and they seem completely incapable of putting their differences aside. Segregated from mainland Amorynthia, their primitive people live basic lives of survival and conflict. Technically under the rule of King Valdez, the islands are essentially independent due Valdez' neglect and disinterest, leading Ithelm and Savizar to develop their own hierarchies. The islands are currently locked in a brutal war over the volcanic island that sits between their neighbouring shores.

Ithelm

Ithelm is an island of harsh, barren terrain: the land mostly consists of stone or dry plains of grass. Nevertheless, it has somehow come to be populated by an isolated and barbaric group of human settlers. Cut off from the mainland, the people of Ithelm are primitive in comparison to the people of Amorynthia and Tumeken; they are a people of basic needs: food, sex, beer and pride. It is this pride that has led the Ithelm tribes to war with the neighbouring island of Savizar. Though they are technically under royal rule, King Valdez holds little interest in the islands and so they are mostly left to their own devices. The unofficial ruler of Ithelm is Chieftain Ragnar Stålhandske.

Ashfeld

Even by the humble Ithelm standards, Ashfeld is a small settlement, rarely giving the rest of the Ithelm much reason to visit. Drawing its name from the ash that settles on its soils and rooftops from Mount Ith, here the air is thick and the ground infertile. Despite this, the ash is considered sacred and is collected for various ceremonial purposes. But yet, Ashfeld has found itself at the centre of Ithelm activity and on the forefront of their war efforts in securing Mount Ith as their own. Sat on the coast bordering the volcano and the rival island of Savizar, Ashfeld is the perfect base of operations for the Ithelm’s warriors.

Framik

Framik is another large Ithelm settlement. Being closer to the sea, the people of Framik enjoy a more varied diet thanks to the availability of fish and sea-plants. They often take large quantities of these resources to Heimlod on their visits, as gifts to the Chieftain and his people.

Heimlod

Heimlod is the largest settlement on Ithelm, and is the home Chieftain Ragnar. The tribespeople live in bare wooden huts, using meat and fur from the native wolves to eat and keep warm. In the centre of Heimlod is the Grossheim, the a large hall dedicated to meetings of the various tribe leaders from across the island. It is also used for feasts and celebrations by locals, as well as doubling up as the base of operations for the Chieftain.

Mount Savi/Mouth Ith

Known under different names in the opinion of the warring islands, this active volcano is known to mainlanders under the more popular name of Mount Savi. The Savizi recognise the island as a volcano, whilst the people of Ithelm believe it to be a mountain and the home of their god, Ith. Mount Savi is at the centre of a war between the Savizi and the Ithelm, whom both claim ownership of the volcanic island as their own.

Savizar

A tropical jungle island home to the tribal Savizi people, Savizar has more in common with Ithelm than its residents might like to think. Both communities are primitive and tribal in nature, free of the rule of King Valdez but isolated from the benefits of modern living. The Savizi are governed by a council of shamans, who bring messages from the Jungle Spirits to guide their lives. It was through these ritual communions that the Savizi were instructed to seize ownership of Mount Savi. The Sawazi jungle dominates most of the island, with small settlements for one or two families spread throughout its depths. The jungle is also home to many poisonous flora and fauna, which has caused the Savizi to become relatively adept at brewing remedies and other potions.

Sambawe

Sambawe is one of two communities on Savizar, as most families live independently. As the home of the Elder Shamans, Sambawe is frequently visited by people in search of answers from the other side. There is also a handful of especially capable potion-brewers here, whom can be consulted to cure bites and stings acquired within the dense jungle.

Sanduzi

Sanduzi are a more nomadic community; they rely on the other Savizi less so than those tied to Sambawe. Sanduzi are a brutal people, raised to fight from birth in order to survive the particularly dangerous area of jungle they inhabit. Whilst the Sambawe use venom from the jungle to create cures, the Sanduzi use it to enhance their weapons and further their combat prowess. It is said that adventurers would rather bump into one of the deadly Sawazi creatures than the deadlier Sanduzi folk.

---

· Falinstađ ·

---

The mysterious island of Falinstađ is rarely visited by outsiders; though not by choice. The inherently magical island seems to isolate itself through arcane means, turning away any visitors upon supernaturally rough tides. Known to mainlanders as Mirage Island, Falinstađ is near enough untraceable to the naked eye, occasionally visible on the horizon under the right conditions. The isolated island is rumoured to be the home of the Elves, though few who ever made it to Falinstađ's shores have returned with confirmation...

Ante Lucem

· The World of Tyrrania ·

The Essential Traveller's Handbook

by Professor T. Nydell

Contents
Chapter 1 - Introduction
Chapter 2 - Geography
Chapter 3 - Anthropology
Chapter 4 - Bestiary
Chapter 5 - Theology

---

Chapter 1 ~ Introduction

---

Dear Reader,

Allow me to tell you a little about myself. I am Professor Terrence Nydell, born and raised in the Amorynthian village of Middlewood on one fine Summer's Eve. My parents' only child, I was expected to stay in Middlewood and one day take over my father's humble whittling trade. But, being the imaginative child I was, young Terrence had greater things in mind. I was to slay dragons, earn riches and discover far-off lands unknown. And so one day, aged just fifteen, that's exactly what I set off to do.

I never looked back. You see, my dear Reader, I have always been an adventurer at heart. I was never able to sit still, constantly longing to be back on the road in search of discovery. Even now, on my deathbed, as I write this foreword for my life's work, my legs ache to once again walk the path untrodden.

In your hands lies a tome of knowledge unmatched in these realms. Through my adventures spanning more than half a century, I have collated a resource of information gathered from the furthest reaches of Tyrranian soil; and, in some cases, further still. This book is more than pages bound in leather; the product of sixty-three years of passionate exploration and discovery, this book is the essential tool for those with adventure in their hearts.

All adventures start somewhere, Reader. Yours starts here. And whilst my days of reconnoitre may be over, it would be my honour to guide you; to assist you; to be reliably by your side for one final quest.

Best of luck,
Prof. Terrence Nydell

Before The Dawn

Glad to see some interest. I'll send word out once I've managed to reformat the OOC for RPG.

@Roman, look forward to hearing them. PM is the best way to run things by me now as I no longer use Skype/Discord etc.

Before The Dawn

Before The Dawn

Tyrannia is in disarray; but this is normal for those who call it home. King Valdez and the Amorynthian council are greedy as ever, the once-great nation of Tumeken is struggling to find its feet, and the Dwarven Rebels are coming to resent their subterranean existence in the far North. Yes, by Tyrannian standards, all is at is usually is.

Slowly increasing the taxes on the still-loyal Dwarves of Gard, Valdez' grip on the race is tightening once more and the threat of another Dwarven Exploitation looms overhead. Naturally, eyebrows were raised when King Valdez announced he was searching for a party of the land's finest adventurers, to send North into Vastorian territory. "Not an army," he had specified. "A diplomatic party."

After centuries of an enforced embargo on any rebel goods, what could Valdez possibly want from those Dwarves who betrayed his ancestors all those years ago? Regardless, when someone of Valdez' position puts out a request, he tends to get what he wants.

And so they came, heeding his call; fearless adventurers from all four corners of the earth. Some came for money, some for fame; others, to get an inside look at whatever it was Valdez was plotting. Whatever their motives, the final group was selected and tasked with their mission. And whether they knew it or not, this small foray across the mountains was not likely to be as it seemed.

For you see, there are many mysteries in Tyrannia, and those who venture into untouched territories tend to discover more than they bargained for. With knowledge and duty, even the smallest errands can escalate beyond comprehension; the stakes raised with each new discovery.

Of course, the question is... Can they solve the mysteries of Tyrrania before the Dawn?

The premise...

You are a member of a small but exclusive group, assembled by King Valdez and consisting of what he considers to be the world's finest adventurers. Whatever your motives may be, you accept his task to travel North of the Amoryte mountains.

But your group soon realises that there is much more at stake than gold from the King. Will you rise to the challenge, solving mysteries and unearthing secrets across the continent? What is Valdez really up to? What curse plunged the Tumek region into an eternal drought? And what of the encroaching swampland to the East? Wherever you look in Tyrrania, there's something to discover... Where do you want to go next?​

The World...

Tyrannia is a relatively large and detailed world that I created for the first run of Before The Dawn some years ago. I consider this roleplay a hard reset; none of the events from the first version of the story are canonised. This is a fresh start. The original world is currently viewable over on Iwaku whilst I reformat the content for RPG: iwakuroleplay.com/threads/before-the-…

Crestwood Hollow

And the Lord said; "let there be posts!"

And then there were posts.

This pleases me.

Crestwood Hollow

Woah, sorry that took so long. If you guys take your characters over to the cafeteria, and reflect on the class so far, I'll have Kit establish something more interesting for you all in my next post. Again, sorry about the wait.

Crestwood Hollow

A I D E N M c K E N N A & W I N T E R C A R L Y L E

---

^{Monday 26th September, Mather Memorial High School [Collaboration with @FantasyChic]}

Kit Renard seemed irritated for only the briefest of moments, before slinking back into Mr Lehrer's chair and grinning to himself. Even when Kit's eyes were fixed firmly upon his latest victim (in this instance, Aiden), they never seemed 'still'. They were like two shimmering emeralds, swimming constantly with some unreadable intent. It was easy to imagine the cogs behind them spinning wildly as he schemed.

"Well, as keen as Jonas was that I stuck to his curriculum," Kit mused, "Winter here seems like she knows how to have a good time. Someone give this girl a spoon." he jabbed, making a 'stir-the-pot' motion and smiling excitedly as he gestured towards Aiden. "Please, proceed."

"Woah, woah, woah," Aiden protested, rising to his feet and backing off a few paces. "This isn't cool. You can't just, like, read my mind and shit. No way," he said, visibly panicked but firm in his delivery. His stance only seemed to amuse Kit further.

"Oh, come now, Aiden," he cooed. "Don't be silly. Miss Carlyle wouldn't tell a soul - would you, Winter? Not unless she was... Convinced." He paused, then chuckled at his intentionally sinister tone. "Of course, that would be unnecessary. There's very little she could unearth in that skull of yours that I don't already know. Now please, Winter, will you do the honours." His tone seemed ever so slightly impatient; there was a definite sense of his request being more imperative than he let on.

Aiden felt defeated, but his reluctance was still more than obvious as he looked anxiously to Winter; begging for some sign that he could trust her. He scanned her face; hoping for the slightest glimmer of empathy in her eyes, desperate for her to speak out and assure him that he was safe in her hands. That his secrets were safe in her hands.

Winter was put on the spot and for once in her life...she hated it.

Kit seemed pleased about having both her and Aiden reluctant and confused, but she felt determined. Not only because it would help her understand her own powers, but it would allow Aiden to fully trust her. She silently nodded to herself before she turned to Aiden. She caught his gaze and could see the worry and fear in his eyes.

"I won't lie, Aiden. I don't fully know how these powers work, but I know enough that I should be able to pick and choose what I see. If I do see something I shouldn't, you have my word it will be a secret. No matter what he says, no amount of pressure will get me to break if you don't want me to tell. I promise." She hoped her words were enough to get him to let his guard down.

She reached her hand out, "I need to have physical contact, so if you are ready, I am too." She didn't dare look at Kit, who was probably laughing his ass off. She was determined to prove to herself and to the others she was someone they could trust. If these past few weeks have been any indication, her old self was gone.

It was time for the new Winter to come out.

Aiden nodded, his face full of apprehension though he fully acknowledged that there seemed to be no immediate alternative to the situation. Not with Kit Renard watching over them, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. Aiden might not have spent much time with the supposed teacher, but he understood clearly that Mr. Renard was the type of person who always got what he wanted. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and hesitantly extended his hands towards Winter's own.

They touched, and the world began to fade. The colour in the room washed away, leaving Aiden in a grey twilight, before the details of his surroundings began to warp and slip out of form; like a chalk drawing on the pavement, washed away by an unexpected rain. Only a muddy blackness remained.

And then, from within the blackness, there was a light. Small, flickering, orange; but bright enough to penetrate the darkness that engulfed it. The ember grew, developing into a fist full of flame that illuminated the face of the figure who held it: Aiden. Or rather, a vision of himself, a memory, watched back by Aiden the observer... And no doubt, by Winter Carlyle.

As the vision unfolded, the cloudy scene became more clear; Aiden was crouched in a storage closet, surrounded by mops and spray bottles and other everyday cleaning supplies. Though there was no indication of its whereabouts, Aiden knew exactly where the room was: through the door marked 'PRIVATE - MALL STAFF ONLY", just behind the Nike store at the shopping centre on the other side of Mather Memorial Park. It was the day that changed everything.

He remembered clearly what had driven him to take refuge away from the hustle and bustle, dabbing his bloody nose on his sleeve. He had been accused of giving a suggestive look to one of the school's star quarterbacks during gym class, and his teammates had banded together to make it clear to him that none of them swung that way. But the coast had to be clear by now, and Aiden cracked open the door.

"Hey there, faggot," said one of the brutes, smugly stood waiting for Aiden's emergence.

Aiden made a sudden dash, his fight-or-flight instincts leaning towards the latter. But as two of the boys grabbed his arms, laughing and jeering, a rage began to burn within Aiden's chest. It was a rage that he had been fighting for several months now to quell; a fiery anger that had repeatedly threatened to erupt since his powers had manifested. His father had warned him about it, urged him to commit himself to extinguishing even the slightest ember he felt... But none of this registered during the moment. He was sick of diminishing himself for the benefit of others. If these assholes wanted to try him, then let them. It was time to let go. A burst of orange, a wave of heat, and blackness.

The darkness faded slowly, swirling like smoke, before Aiden realised that it was smoke. And it filled the air, billowing through the trees as Aiden fled the blaze he'd caused at Mather Memorial Park. Tears streamed down his face as he reflected on his actions, furious at himself for giving in to the monster within. Tricked by the fiery tempter within him into releasing his hold on it, and instantly filled with guilt, shame and regret. Instantly, the scene swirled, melting away as hours passed and the moon rose.

Aiden was sat in his room, his hoodie still stinking of smoke from his earlier break. A wet note lay half-written on the desk, dotted with salty droplets that smudged the ink as Aiden buried his hands in his head. A gentle knock at the door broke the silence, as his mother's voice called through the wood.

"Aiden, are you OK, dear?"

Panicked, he grabbed the note as his mother pushed open the door and peaked her head around the frame. It burned away to ash in the heat of his fist; and so did the scene... The night of the dance.

The quickness of the vision alarmed her. She figured it had to be due to lack of practice, but soon she saw the fire. The small flame burning that soon engulfed the vision. She was watching through her own eyes, but she couldn't move. She tried, but it was a powerful force holding her back. She wondered if, with practice, she could move around.

She saw the closet. She saw the bullies. She saw Aiden, fearful and afraid, but also angry. The boys were harsh. It was obvious from the scene this wasn't Aiden's first encounter with them. She could see it on his face. The anger.

Then the fire.

She hated putting Aiden through all that again. She had to imagine it was a memory he didn't want to relive. However, it gave her a new perspective of the boy. An appreciation. She witnessed the rest of the events. Soon, she found herself where she wanted to be. The night of the dance.

She looked around and could see that it was the moment after the wolves attacked and the hooded man was coming for Elroy. She watched as kids ran and screams filled the air. Aiden was doing his best, trying to protect Elroy. Knowing where he was hiding. Soon, the hooden man approached.

Winter looked and she saw his face. Finally, it was there. Both her and Aiden got a good look at his face.

And it wasn't Kit.

Was that good or bad? She wasn't sure. Kit still rubbed her the wrong way, but at least he wasn't their enemy. Yet. She continued to watch the events as the man uttered some powerful words and soon, flames emerged. It happened so suddenly, but she knew what she saw. Aiden didn't start the fire. He was controlled. So not only did they get the man's face, but they knew he was able to control other powers, perhaps. Also, a small blessing to Aiden to know he wasn't the reason for the fire.

Soon the vision ended. She mustered as much strength as she could and soon the bond ceased. She still held on to Aiden's hand as she found herself back in the classroom. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she did neither. Instead, she released the boy's hand and nodded "All right. It wasn't Kit at the night of the dance." She kept her promise. She hoped Aiden was all right.

As Aiden sat - wide-eyed, pale and silent - Kit walked smile contentedly.

"Well, I'm glad we're all on the same page," he said, though his tone would indicate that he wasn't particularly interested in what the students thought of him. "Now, I'm sure we'll all be the best of friends. But as much as I'm enjoying getting to know you all, I really must press on with the lesson. We've important work to do, after all, and it's paramount that I have a competent team." He paused, looking around the room. "Those of you who are incompetent, will find yourselves removed. I have little inclination to entertain timewasters."

He looked over the class as he moved over towards the door, holding it open and gesturing through. "Well, come on now, what are you waiting for?" he asked, expectantly. "Make your way to the cafeteria. And do it quickly, please."

As he watched the students file out of the classroom, he called out after them: "And, if anyone is considering playing the truant, they will find themselves removed from the class with immediate effect." His tone was one of business now, lacking much of his usual showmanship. "As I hope I've made clear: I am not here to play games."

But then, as he pulled the door shut, locking the classroom tight and beginning to make his own way to the empty canteen, Kit found himself smiling at the irony of it all. Because, of course, he was Kit Renard. And he loved to play games.

Crestwood Hollow

@Tyler Ready to collab when you are

@FantasyChic

I'm working til late tomorrow, and then I have company in the evening. Could be Sunday or Monday before I get chance to start something, but as soon as I do I'll push it your way. Excited!

Crestwood Hollow

A I D E N M c K E N N A

---

^{Monday 26th September, Mather Memorial High School}

Aiden looked around the room, having so many questions for the mysterious man, yet something within him denying his will to ask them. It was as though on some instinctive level, he knew better than to leap right into this situation. There was just such an unplaceable quality to Kit Renard that unsettled Aiden, and so he shifted in his seat and scanned the room, hoping that one of his peers would speak. Despite Kit's warnings, Belle obliged.

"What do you know?" she asked. She was assertive in posture, but... Aiden knew her well enough to detect an ounce of trepidation in her tone. He didn't berate her efforts; she was braver than he, and he couldn't blame her for being weary of the stranger. He looked towards Kit for a response, but all the man did was smile. It was not a kind smile.

"Why, Abelle," he sneered. "Who knew you could be so naïve? It's rather endearing, actually," he laughed to himself, though the rest of the room was unamused. "My dear, I know all sorts of wonderful things. I take pride in my homework," he grinned. "Which, according to Jonas, is more than can be said for some of you."

It seemed to Aiden that it was the mention of Mr Lehrer's name that pushed Sebastian over the edge, because within seconds the boy was on his feet and throwing furniture around the room. It was becoming a fast tradition amongst this particular band of misfits for things to escalate decidedly quickly. Seb's body was practically vibrating with rage; and Aiden had faced this particular strain of Sebastian's anger on more than one occasion. The latter of which, he noted, wincing at the memory, had almost cost him dearly. Aiden knew what Seb was capable of in this state, and he wanted to call out to Mr. Renard; urge him to back off, less Sebastian let loose. They didn't want the classroom to become a murder scene, not with Jonas already incarcerated.

But he couldn't. Something - perhaps fear - had him frozen in place. And yet, it didn't seem like Kit needed all that much emotional support. As Sebastian unloaded accusations and threats in Kit's direction, all the substitute teacher could do was smile. It was the faintest of smiles; his lips curled ever so slightly that it might not even be noticed, were it not for the mischievous glee that twinkled in his eyes as he watched the boy explode.

Aiden couldn't decide whether Sebastian had valid points, or whether he was being paranoid. The latter was understandable, given the combined gravity of the events these last few weeks. But the conviction with which Seb spoke at least made it clear to Aiden that the boy believed what he was saying, even if nobody else did. It seemed that Sebastian was convinced Kit was a Draoi, or here to harm them at the very least. Aiden's attention was captured, as the wild boy ordered him to fry the teacher should the situation call for it. Aiden didn't respond to that at all... He didn't want to make any empty promises. Finally, the room fell silent, save for the heavy breath of Sebastian Scott, and Kit's smiled widened, becoming more pronounced.

"Now, now, children," he chimed, seeming completely carefree in his delivery, as he eyed the students that had been ordered to attack him. "That won't be necessary." he said firmly, taking a graceful step towards the makeshift barrier in defiance of Sebastian's warning. He seemed content enough in his assumption that the students would not follow through on Seb's plan, and for now he seemed to be correct. Locking eyes with Sebastian, Kit walked closer still to the barrier, gently picking up one of the tables with ease, and setting it upright. He made a display of dusting off its surface with his hand. All the while, his eye contact with Seb was unwavering.

"It's a pity you can't focus that wild imagination into a more productive outlet, Mr. Scott," he chastised, staring Seb down as he approached the boy, who for now seemed pacified in the moment. Eventually, the two were almost nose-to-nose, as the taller man looked down at Sebastian. There was a fierce energy between them, despite Kit's pleasant demeanour, as though static electricity were bouncing between their bodies. Aiden noticed that Sebastian was practically growling in his rage, whilst Kit bore an air of bemusement. And then, in a decidedly puzzling move, Kit inhaled deeply, as though he were sniffing the boy. He chuckled to himself. "Very interesting. Very interesting indeed."

He brazenly turned his back to Sebastian and returned to the front of the room, leaving the boy seething. "Unfortunately, Mr. Scott, the truth is so often far less interesting than whatever we dream up in our heads," he said, sighing as he once again slouched back in Mr. Lehrer's seat. "Alas, I am no Draoi. Though, that would be an awful lot of fun, wouldn't it? Marching around, burning down whatever took one's fancy," he paused, looking obviously at Aiden. "Though, I'm sure Mr. McKenna over there can tell us all about that." he grinned, meanly. Aiden went white.

It was at this point that Sebastian spoke up once more, though this time it was to Winter, whom he seemed to be guarding. "Does this guy look anything like the one that attacked us?" he asked her, and once again Aiden found himself the unwilling centre of attention. According to Winter, Aiden had gotten close enough to the Draoi to get the best look beneath his hood, and now the girl wanted to tinker around in his thoughts; an effort to unlock his memory of that night, he assumed. But of course, there was absolutely no way Aiden was letting anyone in his head.

Or so, that's what he thought...