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In a Wicked Age, there was a great river, known to those that dwelt along or near to its banks as the Eldest River, for it was indeed very old and its spirit was mighty and powerful. At its widest it measured more than two miles to cross, and so many bends and turns did it have that the birds that looked down upon sometimes called it the great serpent, for such did it resemble a muddy brown and green snake that it wound its way amongst a jungle canopy that dominated the land as though it were alive and on the hunt for prey. The Eldest had its source far in the West, from mountains shaped, so it was said, by the gods and demons alike in their old wars, warped by demon fire and scorched by divine magics, the slopes would tower into the sky, and then hang, like sharp jagged hooks in random directions, like evil blades. As such they were known as the Hooks, and considered a place of chaotic magic, and as they fed the Eldest, so it was believed that the Eldest was itself a direct product of the God Wars, and created at the dawn of the world.
The river's mouth opened up into a wide blue sea in the East, and it was known in the tongues of common men as the Sea of Dreams, or at times the Dreaming Sea, and the tale behind that name is long and complex and not the subject of these current times. All along the coast, both north and south there was jungle and steep rises followed by deep valleys, until finally the forest would die away to reveal high grasslands and fertile floodplains where cities of men and other creatures exist. But within the Jungles no current dwellings can exist save for along the Eldest, for the woods swallow up all paths, and the dark things that live in the eternal shade of the canopies do not allow for commerce or travel over land, nor for civilization to sprout its fertile seed.
And so it is to the Eldest Cities that we turn our attention. The river is long, and life-giving, and along it have been erected the golden domes of the Elastor, as close to the Hooks as any men might dare to live. Further downriver, lies the rain worshiping Goloans, whose shrine city of Goloa spans the river itself at a place where many small islands dot the waters, and bridges span the water ways. Beyond that, getting closer to the river's mouth, are the many diverse tribes, the Bolars, the Casils, the Jobo, and the Zaylti. These tribes may have once been as mighty as the Goloans or the Elastor, were it not for their proximity to the unnamed town only a half day's sailing from the Sea, a squat town with ugly housing and uglier boats that put into its port. It is a town of raiders, of greedy men and some women, who make their living at the expense of the tribes and civilizations upriver. Some are exiles from these tribes. Some are criminals from the places north and south, and some are distant travelers come across the Dreaming Sea, who settle in this place if they are strong of body and quick of wit and blade. The weak in this raider town are not tolerated, either they are killed or more likely, they are enslaved, and forced to serve as menial labor for the town's chieftain - or worse.
Worse still, they could be sent to the bluffs at the Sea's Edge, where beings of unblemished white skin and empty eyes, dressed in dark cloaks wait to take them as slaves within their home. These are servants of Calad-Ul, the Silver and Alabaster Tower that rises from the sea every new moon. It is a place of power and magic, a wicked place. An order of mages dwells there, and their ways are strange, their works varied, and their influence felt from the Domes of the Elastor to the far cities. It is a place of wonder and riches many say, and for those who wield magic, it can be a heaven on earth, so it's emissaries say. All needs for those who seek arcane power can be met within its silvered walls - and many mystical seekers find themselves journeying to dizzying heights.
This is the land where we find ourselves, we who dwell at this time, in this nest of vipers. Two mages, Arwia who seeks to heal, and Rakdos whose blood burns for power, have come to seek the mysteries of Carad-Ul. With them, bound in chains, is Zakiri, one of many prisoners, who shall discover the fate of those who enter its walls as slaves. She has already faced terrible treatment at the hands of the raiders, whose chieftain, Nadia, has put her in this place.
Ah Nadia, queen among pirates, who sits on the wealth of the raiders, she who commands a fleet of ugly boats. But how certain is her rule? There are those who would seek to unseat her and cast her down. Her trusted lieutenant, Halrikk, is missing, and her list of allies dwindles. Where has Halrikk with his mighty bow gone? What misfortune has befallen him?
The river's mouth opened up into a wide blue sea in the East, and it was known in the tongues of common men as the Sea of Dreams, or at times the Dreaming Sea, and the tale behind that name is long and complex and not the subject of these current times. All along the coast, both north and south there was jungle and steep rises followed by deep valleys, until finally the forest would die away to reveal high grasslands and fertile floodplains where cities of men and other creatures exist. But within the Jungles no current dwellings can exist save for along the Eldest, for the woods swallow up all paths, and the dark things that live in the eternal shade of the canopies do not allow for commerce or travel over land, nor for civilization to sprout its fertile seed.
And so it is to the Eldest Cities that we turn our attention. The river is long, and life-giving, and along it have been erected the golden domes of the Elastor, as close to the Hooks as any men might dare to live. Further downriver, lies the rain worshiping Goloans, whose shrine city of Goloa spans the river itself at a place where many small islands dot the waters, and bridges span the water ways. Beyond that, getting closer to the river's mouth, are the many diverse tribes, the Bolars, the Casils, the Jobo, and the Zaylti. These tribes may have once been as mighty as the Goloans or the Elastor, were it not for their proximity to the unnamed town only a half day's sailing from the Sea, a squat town with ugly housing and uglier boats that put into its port. It is a town of raiders, of greedy men and some women, who make their living at the expense of the tribes and civilizations upriver. Some are exiles from these tribes. Some are criminals from the places north and south, and some are distant travelers come across the Dreaming Sea, who settle in this place if they are strong of body and quick of wit and blade. The weak in this raider town are not tolerated, either they are killed or more likely, they are enslaved, and forced to serve as menial labor for the town's chieftain - or worse.
Worse still, they could be sent to the bluffs at the Sea's Edge, where beings of unblemished white skin and empty eyes, dressed in dark cloaks wait to take them as slaves within their home. These are servants of Calad-Ul, the Silver and Alabaster Tower that rises from the sea every new moon. It is a place of power and magic, a wicked place. An order of mages dwells there, and their ways are strange, their works varied, and their influence felt from the Domes of the Elastor to the far cities. It is a place of wonder and riches many say, and for those who wield magic, it can be a heaven on earth, so it's emissaries say. All needs for those who seek arcane power can be met within its silvered walls - and many mystical seekers find themselves journeying to dizzying heights.
This is the land where we find ourselves, we who dwell at this time, in this nest of vipers. Two mages, Arwia who seeks to heal, and Rakdos whose blood burns for power, have come to seek the mysteries of Carad-Ul. With them, bound in chains, is Zakiri, one of many prisoners, who shall discover the fate of those who enter its walls as slaves. She has already faced terrible treatment at the hands of the raiders, whose chieftain, Nadia, has put her in this place.
Ah Nadia, queen among pirates, who sits on the wealth of the raiders, she who commands a fleet of ugly boats. But how certain is her rule? There are those who would seek to unseat her and cast her down. Her trusted lieutenant, Halrikk, is missing, and her list of allies dwindles. Where has Halrikk with his mighty bow gone? What misfortune has befallen him?