So I've been working on Mal Appetit's magic system. (Mal Appetit is the setting of Grost's Gourmet Glaciers). Here's what I have so far. Feel free to ask questions or make suggestions!
Obtaining Magic
All libators must have some Eldritch Anatomy in their body, usually taking the form of alien nerve implants. There is a black market for eldritch creatures due to this.
Some libators take different approaches to obtaining Eldritch Anatomy, growing alien plants, fungi, or bacteria inside themselves.
Rarely, an aspiring libator will obtain Eldritch Anatomy directly from a Great One, making them significantly stronger than a regular libator at the cost of having to serve only that Great One. This pact makes them far less versatile than their non-pacted allies.
Using Magic
To use libation magic, one must (usually) contact a Great One. One can go without contacting a Great One, instead using the abilities they’ve already gained through their Eldritch Anatomy or by using occult relics, but typically you want to make contact.
Regardless of how they’re using the magic, they must then consume something, either as an offering to the Great One or as fuel for other eldritch abilities. The better the food, the stronger the effect. The best foods come from the Gourmet Nightmare, where a rare sugar called Thalacrose manifests in native organisms. Thalacrose powers up eldritch abilities dramatically, and is just generally a delicious and versatile ingredient.
Finally, the libator manifests the effects of the power they are using. This usually takes the form of summoning creatures from their own flesh, gaining a new mutation, or activating a relic.
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I am unruly in the stands (I am a rock on top of the sand) I am a fist amidst the hands And I make a wreck out of my hand (I make a fist and not a plan) And I break it just because I can
Thri-kreen (occasionally referred to as mantis-folk or simply mantids) are an ancient species of insect-like creatures with psionic abilities, color-shifting carapaces, and a deep connection to the extraplanar components of our own world. They live in packs of about 400, frequently interacting with and exchanging members with other packs. The places in which thri-kreen live are called bivouacs (sometimes used interchangeably with pack, though a bivouac can, in rare cases, be home to multiple packs), and these bivouacs move with the seasons, traveling usually about 30 rasques (roughly 50 km). Thri-kreen are skilled diggers, and when they settle in a location to make a bivouac, the first task is for every pack member to help carve out the spot. The excavated materials are used to construct individual dwelling-places for groups of thri-kreen. These mound-like dwellings are set in clusters based on jobs, and the center of a bivouac often contains a place of meeting and pits for storage of food, resources, weapons, and eggs. A pack is led by two governing bodies: elders and yapitori. Elders are thri-kreen that have reached a venerable age and are deemed experienced enough to teach and lead others. The elders preside over resource distribution, job distribution, rituals and ceremonies (druids and religious leaders are almost always elders), and the raising of young. The yapitori are proven fighters and act as generals in times of war, directing military efforts. However, the yapitori are not quite as powerful as the elders, and can be overruled if their decisions are seen as foolish. Thri-kreen diets are predominately based on sources of meat, and packs both keep livestock (giant beetles, horses, and pigs being most common) and hunt. Shellfish, crustaceans, and small fish are also commonly eaten. Berries, roots, fungi, and nuts serve as major food sources too. Of course, diet is dependent on location. In Azabas, thri-kreen are mostly found on the edges of continents. Thri-kreen packs dwell in H’asra, Falwendor, Nalyith, Aanhor, the Brass Desert, Aglawkini, and the Diyyan Conjuction. Regardless of surface location, though, packs can be found in most of the Underdark as well. Thri-kreen religion is animistic and led predominantly by druids. In their traditions, everything has a spirit, and the most powerful spirits (that of the seasons, the stars, rivers, great heroes, and certain sacred plants and animals) form the Taturri. Spirits of the Taturri can answer prayers and grant spells, though they aren’t quite as powerful as some gods like Ao, Bahamut, Mystra, or Lolth. The patron spirit of the thri-kreen is Dai’Khrus, the Celestial Mantis. Dai’Khrus is said to roam the Astral Plane, depositing the souls of thri-kreen in different worlds and sparking life. There is also a prophecy, issued by an oracle named Osib’Geiwhet, that states that a select few heroes, called matlumnas, will be reincarnated into other great heroes in times of strife. At the end of the world, a messiah called the Xh’adi bearing the spirits of every matlumna and the ability to move between planes will defeat the great beasts of evil, and create a world where there is peace and plenty, and all work together to solve problems. Thri-kreen have stringent traditions regarding death and the treatment of the dead. Those that die expected honorable deaths (such as a long-fated illness, old age, or death in a righteous battle) are burned so their spirits can more easily reach the afterlife. Those that die unexpected honorable deaths (such as a quick illness, starvation, unjustified murder, or death from exposure) are usually burned, though if others are suffering the same fate it is considered acceptable to eat the remains if safe. Those that die expected dishonorable deaths (justified murder, death in a wicked battle, or an illness that could have been prevented) are buried, so as to bind their soul to the earth and prevent them from passing on. Those that die unexpected dishonorable deaths (killed in the course of a crime, or dying from preventable natural sources suddenly) are always eaten. Thri-kreen have not been the focus of most written history, as larger civilizations usually couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge them when they kept to themselves. When King Edri attempted to form western Eluterion, thri-kreen packs fought against the expansion, and many on both sides were killed. Conversely, a few decades earlier, as independent communities fought against the remaining undead seeded by Emperor Vecna (who had suffered his third death 20 years previously) together with thri-kreen. For the most part, thri-kreen follow their own traditions with little regard for the traditions of others, and their perspective on cannibalism especially has brought thri-kreen into conflict with others, as when battles occur, some less honorable packs will scavenge the battlefield and eat the corpses of fallen soldiers.
In the new calm, there was a smooth, rounded rock, like an egg.
This rock hatched, and the Dråge Fader was born.
The infant Dråge Fader was alone, and no matter how far he went, he found only barren rock and dirt. So he created a mound of dirt, and it was his friend.
But his loneliness would not subside, and he began to cry. He cried for 9 days and 9 nights, shedding streams of bitter, salty tears that soaked into the barren ground.
And then, when he stopped crying, he saw that where his tears had landed, small plants began to grow; clovers, and moss, and grass had started to cover the ground around him.
But then he noticed, that his friend, the mound of dirt, was gone. In its place, there stood a statue of a dragon, carved from soil. And as the plants reached the statue, it awoke, growing scales of grass and bark and moss.
And thus, the Dråge Fader's tears created the first plants, and created the Planternes Dråge.
The Dråge Fader and the Planternes Dråge had become the best of friends. They explored the Verden together, growing clovers and grasses and mosses to transform the barren earth into beautiful fields and valleys. They created plants to grow beneath the water, and started making small trees that would one day brush the clouds.
One day, almost a century later, they laid beside a small brook, resting. The whole Verden now had plant life of some variety, even the inhospitable Asksletten. And yet, they had not found a single creature.
But as the Dråge Fader lay beside the Planternes Dråge, looked into his eyes, he felt something new within himself. And as the Planternes Dråge looked at the Dråge Fader, he felt it as well.
They felt love, a love that differed from the love they had for their plants, and for the next decade, they spent each day flying together, in a complex and long-forgotten dance, singing of their love for each other.
One day, as the Ild-på-Himlen set beneath the horizon, the Dråge Fader had a vision. In his vision, he saw himself, crafting an egg from red stone, carving it into a smooth, rounded shape covered with spirals of yellow moss. He told his love, the Planternes Dråge, about his vision, and they began to search the Verden for any sort of rock that matched the one that he had seen.
They looked in deep caves and on high mountains, in low valleys and on jagged cliffs. But as the years wore on, they began to slowly lose hope. Their dance in the sky became tinged with sadness, their song picked up a mournful verse, and it seemed that the clouds themselves turned blue out of sympathy.
But then, when all hope seemed lost, they finally found a small spire of the red stone they were looking for, standing alone in a massive empty patch of the Asksletten. Upon sighting the spire, the Dråge Fader and the Planternes Dråge cried tears of joy, that pooled and formed a small pond of saltwater.
They landed next to the spire of red rock, and carved off a small chunk, which they carefully rubbed with a chunk of porous rock until it formed a smooth, rounded shape, just like an egg.
It is unclear what happened, and whether it was fate or accident, but somehow the carved rock rolled into the saltwater pond, and when it did, moss began to grow on it, in the same spiraling pattern that was foreseen in the Dråge Fader's vision.
And so, with the vision fulfilled, and the egg formed, the Dråge Fader and the Planternes Dråge decided to find somewhere to settle down, for a time at least. They flew with their egg, and found a shallow valley nestled high in the mountains, a valley that would be perfect for their family. A valley, that would become known as Drågernes Reden.
In Drågernes Reden, the Planternes Dråge and the Dråge Fader began to grow a nest, made from thick, soft mosses. The nest was big enough to comfortably fit both of them, along with their egg.
It would be in this nest that they spent most of the next 5 years, singing to their singular egg.
And after those 5 years, the egg finally hatched, and the Skålret Dråge was born.
The Skålret Dråge was the eldest daughter of the Dråge Fader and the Planternes Dråge, and she was far more than they had hoped. Her red and orange scales shone like metal, and her voice, they say, was so beautiful, that the very mountains felt compelled to sing along.
But 81 nights and 81 days after the hatching of the Skålret Dråge, the Dråge Fader had another vision. In this vision, he and the Planternes Dråge had crafted 3 more eggs, and were asleep in their nest with these eggs, and also with the Skålret Dråge. The eggs each looked unique: one had a fish-scaled outer shell of clear crystal with a layer of mottled white and sky-blue rock underneath; another had a shell made of woven grasses and heather; and the third had a plated shell made of steel from the Stålbjerg, with raised veins of copper. The Dråge Fader knew then, as before, that he and the Planternes Dråge would have to seek out the materials needed to craft these eggs, and sing to them or life and love.
So in the morning, they took off, seeking out first the mottled rock, which they found at the bottom of a lake. When they carved it, the surface became clear crystal, as was foreseen. Next, they sought the longest grasses, that grew to the South. Once they had woven that second egg, they traveled far to the West, where the Stålbjerg stood tall. Here, was their real challenge, for the steel of the Stålbjerg is stronger even than adamantine.
It took them the better part of a year, but they were able to carve out an egg from the steel. As they began to fly home, lightning struck the steel egg, creating the copper veins from the vision. And thus, the second clutch of Dråge eggs was complete.
Four years later, the second clutch began to hatch, and three new Dråger were soon born into the Verden. First to hatch was the Gællet Dråge, the first son of the Dråge Fader, whose streamlined body was covered in rounded scales that shimmered like pale blue opals. Next was the Kitinøs Dråge, whose long wings were like clear leaves, and whose scales were large and shimmered like the back of a green beetle. The third to hatch was the Jerndråge, with his scales like plates of adamantine.
For a decade, the Dråge Fader, the Planternes Dråge, and their four Drågelings, all lived happily, drinking from mountain springs and eating clovers and berries.
And eventually, there were two more clutches, each having three eggs; and those eggs hatched, and thus all the Güde Dråger came into being.
Here, now, is a listing of the last six Güde Dråger to hatch: from an egg of raven-blue stone with feathered patterns of dark grey leaves, the Fjerbeklædt Dråge, whose wings were like that of a bird; from an egg of white pumice, with splotches of red moss, the Svampdråge, with her scales like overlapping shelves of fungus; then from an egg of yellow crystal, patterned with orange streaks, the Krystæl Dråge, whose eyes gleamed like stars; from an egg of wood covered entirely with grey and brown and black moss, came the Pëlset Dråge, with his feline paws and soft fur; from an egg of ice, stone, crystal, and volcanic rock, came the Kaøs Dråge, whose rage could crumble mountains; and lastly, from an egg of white chalk with whorls of cloudy white crystal, came the Ørakel Dråge, also called the Synsløs Dråge, whose pale white eyes see only through the Tidens Tåger.
Hello My Lorenites- No. Lore-ers? UH, What do we call ourselves- NEVERMIND. Anyway, I'm not dead. One has just been gone creating a CACOUPHONY of lore. So prepare for more lore from yours truly!
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I regularly go by DJ around these here parts, perhaps due to my past account life!
Enjoy some lore from yours truly, The Weaver of a Thousand Triumphs!
Hello My Lorenites- No. Lore-ers? UH, What do we call ourselves- NEVERMIND. Anyway, I'm not dead. One has just been gone creating a CACOUPHONY of lore. So prepare for more lore from yours truly!
*Second Homebrew World I made.*
Verenthia: Realm of Shadow
In a world shrouded in perpetual twilight, where the line between light and darkness blurs, lies the realm of Verenthia. Here, ancient forests loom with eerie silence, their branches twisted like the hands of forgotten gods. Mountains rise like jagged teeth, their peaks lost amidst swirling mists. Rivers flow with waters dark as obsidian, whispering secrets of times long past. It is a realm where magic pulses with a dangerous allure, where power comes at a cost, and where the shadows themselves seem to hunger.
Long ago, Verenthia was a land of prosperity, ruled by noble houses and revered orders of knights and mages. But the greed of mankind and the hunger for power corrupted the land. The once mighty houses turned against each other, waging wars that scarred the very fabric of reality. In their arrogance, they unleashed forces beyond their control, twisting the land and unleashing horrors from the depths of the abyss.
Now, centuries later, Verenthia is a fractured realm, its once great cities lying in ruin, their streets haunted by the restless dead and dark creatures born of nightmares. The noble houses have fallen, their bloodlines tainted by betrayal and madness. In their place, warlords and tyrants rise, ruling through fear and cruelty.
Magic, once a tool of enlightenment and wonder, has become a curse. Those who wield it risk madness and corruption, their souls consumed by the dark energies they seek to command. Yet, despite the dangers, there are still those who dare to harness its power, seeking to carve out their own destiny amidst the chaos.
In the heart of Verenthia lies the Veil, a barrier between the mortal realm and the abyss. It is a place of great power and even greater danger, where the boundaries between reality and nightmare blur. Some seek to breach the Veil, believing that untold riches and forbidden knowledge lie beyond. Others guard it fiercely, knowing that to tamper with its ancient wards is to invite doom upon the world.
And so, amidst the darkness, there are those who still cling to hope. Knights of forgotten orders, wandering scholars seeking lost knowledge, and brave souls who dare to challenge the darkness. They are few in number, but their resolve is unyielding. For in the depths of Verenthia's despair, there lies the faintest glimmer of hope that one day, the shadows may be banished, and the realm restored to its former glory. But whether that day will ever come remains to be seen, for in Verenthia, the line between hope and despair is as thin as a razor's edge.
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I regularly go by DJ around these here parts, perhaps due to my past account life!
Enjoy some lore from yours truly, The Weaver of a Thousand Triumphs!
A great book all of you should read (or a great series rather) is Unsouled of the Cradle series.
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What's life without a little war to spice things up. I am (As drummerboy stated) The master of many faces, The unseen puppeteer, & The unnoticed influence.
I am the Great sage equal to heaven- The monkey king
Rudolph the first is a real person. It’s not a real name, but that’s not what matters. Rudolph the first was the best Toymaker who ever lived, and his dolls and stuffed animals were said to dance on their own and brought joy to villages everywhere. He was legendary. Then he was caught in the middle of a crime scene, holding the murder weapon: his own carving knife. Ninety three people died by his hand, and nobody expected that little old Toymaker to commit a crime so terrible. He burnt down his house with him inside it, but something managed to shamble out of the ashes, a project he was working on for a long time.
Rudolph the second is a real Name. It’s not a real person, but that’s not what matters. they look human, but their skin is made of wood underneath, and his eyes are tiny little painted orbs. He is just as good at toy making as his father, but nobody would buy his toys for fear he was a murderer just like his creator. This made Rudolph the second Angry, so he decided to fake his own death and assume a new identity. He even made a fake corpse to go with it.
Rudolph the third was the first one to really start the cycle. He was created by the second, who faked their own death and died of old age. Rudolph the second contacted the spirit of the original Rudolph, and learned everything they could from him. Rudolph the third worked with the first, carrying out their work to rid the world of evil forever, right from the root before they could do any harm. They snuck into homes through the chimney and took children away into the cold winter night. Eventually, he was caught and just barely escaped. He even left a distraction so he could get away.
Rudolph the Eighth was not a real person. He is now, but that’s not what matters. Starting his life as a tiny doll, he was taught everything he knows from all of the Rudolph’s that came before him. He was brought to Happy Days Sanitarium because people thought he was crazy for talking to voices inside his head. By some unconventional means, he escaped by creating an army of puppets to cause a giant fight. Then he fled to the Feywild, where he practiced his craft and continued the work of the Rudolph’s that came before him. Then, he disappeared, and a creature was left behind: his life’s work, made from a special material.
Blue, the Showman, is not a real Angel. People think he is, but it is all a facade. He seeks to gain power via entertaining others and rising up the social hierarchy. But, unfortunately, unlike his Rudolph Predecessors, he does not have a real body and therefore cannot grow. This is where the story is at currently.
I'm going to rework my main setting a bit. I'm removing Great Ones entirely. It was a tough decision, but I feel like it was right for the setting. It carves a huge chunk out of my worldbuilding, but I think it is for the best.
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I am unruly in the stands (I am a rock on top of the sand) I am a fist amidst the hands And I make a wreck out of my hand (I make a fist and not a plan) And I break it just because I can
Magic is extremely rare within Gøblenheim, because those showing an interest or aptitude is Exiled to the Tunnels, where feral dark elves, giant spiders, and other banished goblins create an environment of constant danger that almost guarantees death.
Meanwhile, dark elves have access to potent magic, at the slow, gradual cost of their morals and compassion, eventually leading to psychopathy or sociopathy that degrades further into madness and feralness.
The cause of this price is an ancient Pact that was formed between dark elves and the Spider Queen, that lead to the Great Dark Elf/Goblin War, which has never really ended.
On the Surface, magic pools in some places and is nearly absent in others, though few have mastered it so far.
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Kasrik Argentum Stellaris Fiddlesticks the Wizard, Lord of Stars, Master Trickster, and Creator of both the Mosh of Stardust Hornets and Mimiczilla.
Glossary: A Monster is a normal creature that has consumed Thalacrose and has sustained mutations. A Spirit is a being from the Nightmare
The Nightmare only opens during times of turmoil or great stress. It always changes each time it appears, and the world changes with its arrival.
One constant humanity has found is that there was always a specific chemical compound found only in the Nightmare: Thalacrose, a chemical sometimes called Deep Sugar. It forms in crystals underground, which melt into underground reservoirs, which are drunk up by the roots of plants, and then it infests those plants and the creatures that eat them.
Thalacrose is a strange chemical. Magical, even. It burns 10 times as hot as coal and for 3 times as long. It is an incredibly potent supplement, improving the flavor of anything incorporating it and rapidly making improvements to the body. It is a cure-all, a clean fuel source, and the key to the next step in evolution. Scientists have long sought how to grow the crystals, and unfortunately, have discovered their origin: pain.
Thalacrose responds to the stress of nearby creatures, growing larger and heating up, causing it to smoke. This can be seen in creatures with large amounts of it in their systems as well: they bleed smoke when injured, and when pushed to their limits, they will mutate and begin producing said smoke from their mouths, noses, and pores.
Thalacrose is a miracle material if that hasn’t been made clear, but it is also very fitting for something born of fear and pain. Burning it can conjure forth Spirits, horrible beasts from the Nightmare that have taken an interest in mortals. Any consumption of it will cause “evolution” of the darkest sorts. Mutations caused by Thalacrose are often as symbolic as they are powerful, such as a convicted criminal sprouting wings made of chains, allowing them to warp metal with their hands and fly like a bird, or a fatally ill mother turning into an ancient-looking creature with branches growing from her head, making her capable of brewing diseases in her flesh and birthing symbiotic parasites that empower their hosts at the cost of nutrients.
Burning Thalacrose in one’s body is dangerous, but often necessary. Supernatural abilities require one to digest this Deep Sugar, creating more smoke and heat. This takes a tremendous amount of energy, usually draining directly from calorie stores. Digesting too much Thalacrose at one time can give you heatstroke, boil your blood, wither you away, dehydrate you, or even much worse things. More powerful monsters can handle more strain, but they can still overheat and even die.
Hot, dry areas with little food are the bane of monsters everywhere. Monsters can only vent heat from their bodies if there is cooler air or water to replace it, so deserts are their greatest fear. In addition to this, monsters need much more food than the normal person. They burn calories at an incredible rate, and they need Thalacrose in their diets to unleash their full strength.
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I am unruly in the stands (I am a rock on top of the sand) I am a fist amidst the hands And I make a wreck out of my hand (I make a fist and not a plan) And I break it just because I can
Thank you so much! It's like the fifth iteration of this concept, and I wrote all this stuff up in the dead of the night because I needed to get it out of my head.
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I am unruly in the stands (I am a rock on top of the sand) I am a fist amidst the hands And I make a wreck out of my hand (I make a fist and not a plan) And I break it just because I can
Thank you so much! It's like the fifth iteration of this concept, and I wrote all this stuff up in the dead of the night because I needed to get it out of my head.
Cool. My more recent stuff has taken days to write out, partly just from the sheer length of it.
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Kasrik Argentum Stellaris Fiddlesticks the Wizard, Lord of Stars, Master Trickster, and Creator of both the Mosh of Stardust Hornets and Mimiczilla.
So I'm trying to come up with a shorthand for my power system. You know, a visual element that signifies a powered individual and isn't likely to be mistaken for something else.
Actually, perhaps I could make it so that they could be mistaken for something else. That way, someone could be a powered person, but you'll never know for sure until they show off some supernatural traits.
In other words, they could easily just be mistaken for a member of an unknown fantasy lineage who just happens to be overweight or underweight. The only way to be sure is to get them to show you or get them extremely stressed, causing them to emit smoke.
I am unruly in the stands (I am a rock on top of the sand) I am a fist amidst the hands And I make a wreck out of my hand (I make a fist and not a plan) And I break it just because I can
Uh, I guess you all have heard this already. But- Kasrik_The_Wizard our Second-in-command here at the Tower is sadly leaving/Gone. Rest Kasrik, and replenish. I suppose we don't have to think of Kasrik as leaving, but more or less just Taking a Long Rest. He needs to replenish his Spell Slots and HP People. So until he comes back and if he ever does. Lets keep the Tower of Lore moving, and lore circulating.
Keep Creating my Lorenites, keep creating and writing.
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I regularly go by DJ around these here parts, perhaps due to my past account life!
Enjoy some lore from yours truly, The Weaver of a Thousand Triumphs!
why are we sending pics of Twi'ileks?
"There are things in the universe that are simply and purely evil.
A warrior does not seek to understand them, or to compromise with them.
He seeks only to obliterate them."
Grand Admiral Thrawn
So I've been working on Mal Appetit's magic system. (Mal Appetit is the setting of Grost's Gourmet Glaciers). Here's what I have so far. Feel free to ask questions or make suggestions!
Obtaining Magic
All libators must have some Eldritch Anatomy in their body, usually taking the form of alien nerve implants. There is a black market for eldritch creatures due to this.
Some libators take different approaches to obtaining Eldritch Anatomy, growing alien plants, fungi, or bacteria inside themselves.
Rarely, an aspiring libator will obtain Eldritch Anatomy directly from a Great One, making them significantly stronger than a regular libator at the cost of having to serve only that Great One. This pact makes them far less versatile than their non-pacted allies.
Using Magic
To use libation magic, one must (usually) contact a Great One. One can go without contacting a Great One, instead using the abilities they’ve already gained through their Eldritch Anatomy or by using occult relics, but typically you want to make contact.
Regardless of how they’re using the magic, they must then consume something, either as an offering to the Great One or as fuel for other eldritch abilities. The better the food, the stronger the effect. The best foods come from the Gourmet Nightmare, where a rare sugar called Thalacrose manifests in native organisms. Thalacrose powers up eldritch abilities dramatically, and is just generally a delicious and versatile ingredient.
Finally, the libator manifests the effects of the power they are using. This usually takes the form of summoning creatures from their own flesh, gaining a new mutation, or activating a relic.
I am unruly in the stands
(I am a rock on top of the sand)
I am a fist amidst the hands
And I make a wreck out of my hand
(I make a fist and not a plan)
And I break it just because I can
Thri-kreen
Thri-kreen (occasionally referred to as mantis-folk or simply mantids) are an ancient species of insect-like creatures with psionic abilities, color-shifting carapaces, and a deep connection to the extraplanar components of our own world. They live in packs of about 400, frequently interacting with and exchanging members with other packs. The places in which thri-kreen live are called bivouacs (sometimes used interchangeably with pack, though a bivouac can, in rare cases, be home to multiple packs), and these bivouacs move with the seasons, traveling usually about 30 rasques (roughly 50 km). Thri-kreen are skilled diggers, and when they settle in a location to make a bivouac, the first task is for every pack member to help carve out the spot. The excavated materials are used to construct individual dwelling-places for groups of thri-kreen. These mound-like dwellings are set in clusters based on jobs, and the center of a bivouac often contains a place of meeting and pits for storage of food, resources, weapons, and eggs.
A pack is led by two governing bodies: elders and yapitori. Elders are thri-kreen that have reached a venerable age and are deemed experienced enough to teach and lead others. The elders preside over resource distribution, job distribution, rituals and ceremonies (druids and religious leaders are almost always elders), and the raising of young. The yapitori are proven fighters and act as generals in times of war, directing military efforts. However, the yapitori are not quite as powerful as the elders, and can be overruled if their decisions are seen as foolish.
Thri-kreen diets are predominately based on sources of meat, and packs both keep livestock (giant beetles, horses, and pigs being most common) and hunt. Shellfish, crustaceans, and small fish are also commonly eaten. Berries, roots, fungi, and nuts serve as major food sources too. Of course, diet is dependent on location.
In Azabas, thri-kreen are mostly found on the edges of continents. Thri-kreen packs dwell in H’asra, Falwendor, Nalyith, Aanhor, the Brass Desert, Aglawkini, and the Diyyan Conjuction. Regardless of surface location, though, packs can be found in most of the Underdark as well.
Thri-kreen religion is animistic and led predominantly by druids. In their traditions, everything has a spirit, and the most powerful spirits (that of the seasons, the stars, rivers, great heroes, and certain sacred plants and animals) form the Taturri. Spirits of the Taturri can answer prayers and grant spells, though they aren’t quite as powerful as some gods like Ao, Bahamut, Mystra, or Lolth. The patron spirit of the thri-kreen is Dai’Khrus, the Celestial Mantis. Dai’Khrus is said to roam the Astral Plane, depositing the souls of thri-kreen in different worlds and sparking life. There is also a prophecy, issued by an oracle named Osib’Geiwhet, that states that a select few heroes, called matlumnas, will be reincarnated into other great heroes in times of strife. At the end of the world, a messiah called the Xh’adi bearing the spirits of every matlumna and the ability to move between planes will defeat the great beasts of evil, and create a world where there is peace and plenty, and all work together to solve problems. Thri-kreen have stringent traditions regarding death and the treatment of the dead. Those that die expected honorable deaths (such as a long-fated illness, old age, or death in a righteous battle) are burned so their spirits can more easily reach the afterlife. Those that die unexpected honorable deaths (such as a quick illness, starvation, unjustified murder, or death from exposure) are usually burned, though if others are suffering the same fate it is considered acceptable to eat the remains if safe. Those that die expected dishonorable deaths (justified murder, death in a wicked battle, or an illness that could have been prevented) are buried, so as to bind their soul to the earth and prevent them from passing on. Those that die unexpected dishonorable deaths (killed in the course of a crime, or dying from preventable natural sources suddenly) are always eaten.
Thri-kreen have not been the focus of most written history, as larger civilizations usually couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge them when they kept to themselves. When King Edri attempted to form western Eluterion, thri-kreen packs fought against the expansion, and many on both sides were killed. Conversely, a few decades earlier, as independent communities fought against the remaining undead seeded by Emperor Vecna (who had suffered his third death 20 years previously) together with thri-kreen. For the most part, thri-kreen follow their own traditions with little regard for the traditions of others, and their perspective on cannibalism especially has brought thri-kreen into conflict with others, as when battles occur, some less honorable packs will scavenge the battlefield and eat the corpses of fallen soldiers.
hey.
i liked that box.
put me back.
*holy crap, part one of the Gøblengüder is already like 8 pages long (on the notes thing i'm using)*
Kasrik Argentum Stellaris Fiddlesticks the Wizard, Lord of Stars, Master Trickster, and Creator of both the Mosh of Stardust Hornets and Mimiczilla.
"You're never fully dressed without a smile!" >:3
"Honk."
The Gøblengüder, Part 1: The Güde Dråger
In the new calm, there was a smooth, rounded rock, like an egg.
This rock hatched, and the Dråge Fader was born.
The infant Dråge Fader was alone, and no matter how far he went, he found only barren rock and dirt. So he created a mound of dirt, and it was his friend.
But his loneliness would not subside, and he began to cry. He cried for 9 days and 9 nights, shedding streams of bitter, salty tears that soaked into the barren ground.
And then, when he stopped crying, he saw that where his tears had landed, small plants began to grow; clovers, and moss, and grass had started to cover the ground around him.
But then he noticed, that his friend, the mound of dirt, was gone. In its place, there stood a statue of a dragon, carved from soil. And as the plants reached the statue, it awoke, growing scales of grass and bark and moss.
And thus, the Dråge Fader's tears created the first plants, and created the Planternes Dråge.
The Dråge Fader and the Planternes Dråge had become the best of friends. They explored the Verden together, growing clovers and grasses and mosses to transform the barren earth into beautiful fields and valleys. They created plants to grow beneath the water, and started making small trees that would one day brush the clouds.
One day, almost a century later, they laid beside a small brook, resting. The whole Verden now had plant life of some variety, even the inhospitable Asksletten. And yet, they had not found a single creature.
But as the Dråge Fader lay beside the Planternes Dråge, looked into his eyes, he felt something new within himself. And as the Planternes Dråge looked at the Dråge Fader, he felt it as well.
They felt love, a love that differed from the love they had for their plants, and for the next decade, they spent each day flying together, in a complex and long-forgotten dance, singing of their love for each other.
One day, as the Ild-på-Himlen set beneath the horizon, the Dråge Fader had a vision. In his vision, he saw himself, crafting an egg from red stone, carving it into a smooth, rounded shape covered with spirals of yellow moss. He told his love, the Planternes Dråge, about his vision, and they began to search the Verden for any sort of rock that matched the one that he had seen.
They looked in deep caves and on high mountains, in low valleys and on jagged cliffs. But as the years wore on, they began to slowly lose hope. Their dance in the sky became tinged with sadness, their song picked up a mournful verse, and it seemed that the clouds themselves turned blue out of sympathy.
But then, when all hope seemed lost, they finally found a small spire of the red stone they were looking for, standing alone in a massive empty patch of the Asksletten. Upon sighting the spire, the Dråge Fader and the Planternes Dråge cried tears of joy, that pooled and formed a small pond of saltwater.
They landed next to the spire of red rock, and carved off a small chunk, which they carefully rubbed with a chunk of porous rock until it formed a smooth, rounded shape, just like an egg.
It is unclear what happened, and whether it was fate or accident, but somehow the carved rock rolled into the saltwater pond, and when it did, moss began to grow on it, in the same spiraling pattern that was foreseen in the Dråge Fader's vision.
And so, with the vision fulfilled, and the egg formed, the Dråge Fader and the Planternes Dråge decided to find somewhere to settle down, for a time at least. They flew with their egg, and found a shallow valley nestled high in the mountains, a valley that would be perfect for their family. A valley, that would become known as Drågernes Reden.
In Drågernes Reden, the Planternes Dråge and the Dråge Fader began to grow a nest, made from thick, soft mosses. The nest was big enough to comfortably fit both of them, along with their egg.
It would be in this nest that they spent most of the next 5 years, singing to their singular egg.
And after those 5 years, the egg finally hatched, and the Skålret Dråge was born.
The Skålret Dråge was the eldest daughter of the Dråge Fader and the Planternes Dråge, and she was far more than they had hoped. Her red and orange scales shone like metal, and her voice, they say, was so beautiful, that the very mountains felt compelled to sing along.
But 81 nights and 81 days after the hatching of the Skålret Dråge, the Dråge Fader had another vision. In this vision, he and the Planternes Dråge had crafted 3 more eggs, and were asleep in their nest with these eggs, and also with the Skålret Dråge. The eggs each looked unique: one had a fish-scaled outer shell of clear crystal with a layer of mottled white and sky-blue rock underneath; another had a shell made of woven grasses and heather; and the third had a plated shell made of steel from the Stålbjerg, with raised veins of copper. The Dråge Fader knew then, as before, that he and the Planternes Dråge would have to seek out the materials needed to craft these eggs, and sing to them or life and love.
So in the morning, they took off, seeking out first the mottled rock, which they found at the bottom of a lake. When they carved it, the surface became clear crystal, as was foreseen. Next, they sought the longest grasses, that grew to the South. Once they had woven that second egg, they traveled far to the West, where the Stålbjerg stood tall. Here, was their real challenge, for the steel of the Stålbjerg is stronger even than adamantine.
It took them the better part of a year, but they were able to carve out an egg from the steel. As they began to fly home, lightning struck the steel egg, creating the copper veins from the vision. And thus, the second clutch of Dråge eggs was complete.
Four years later, the second clutch began to hatch, and three new Dråger were soon born into the Verden. First to hatch was the Gællet Dråge, the first son of the Dråge Fader, whose streamlined body was covered in rounded scales that shimmered like pale blue opals. Next was the Kitinøs Dråge, whose long wings were like clear leaves, and whose scales were large and shimmered like the back of a green beetle. The third to hatch was the Jerndråge, with his scales like plates of adamantine.
For a decade, the Dråge Fader, the Planternes Dråge, and their four Drågelings, all lived happily, drinking from mountain springs and eating clovers and berries.
And eventually, there were two more clutches, each having three eggs; and those eggs hatched, and thus all the Güde Dråger came into being.
Here, now, is a listing of the last six Güde Dråger to hatch: from an egg of raven-blue stone with feathered patterns of dark grey leaves, the Fjerbeklædt Dråge, whose wings were like that of a bird; from an egg of white pumice, with splotches of red moss, the Svampdråge, with her scales like overlapping shelves of fungus; then from an egg of yellow crystal, patterned with orange streaks, the Krystæl Dråge, whose eyes gleamed like stars; from an egg of wood covered entirely with grey and brown and black moss, came the Pëlset Dråge, with his feline paws and soft fur; from an egg of ice, stone, crystal, and volcanic rock, came the Kaøs Dråge, whose rage could crumble mountains; and lastly, from an egg of white chalk with whorls of cloudy white crystal, came the Ørakel Dråge, also called the Synsløs Dråge, whose pale white eyes see only through the Tidens Tåger.
Kasrik Argentum Stellaris Fiddlesticks the Wizard, Lord of Stars, Master Trickster, and Creator of both the Mosh of Stardust Hornets and Mimiczilla.
"You're never fully dressed without a smile!" >:3
"Honk."
Hello My Lorenites- No. Lore-ers? UH, What do we call ourselves- NEVERMIND. Anyway, I'm not dead. One has just been gone creating a CACOUPHONY of lore. So prepare for more lore from yours truly!
I regularly go by DJ around these here parts, perhaps due to my past account life!
Enjoy some lore from yours truly, The Weaver of a Thousand Triumphs!
|The Tower of Lore Beckons all Lore Makers!||Come browse our stocks at The Convergence Plaza|
*Second Homebrew World I made.*
Verenthia: Realm of Shadow
In a world shrouded in perpetual twilight, where the line between light and darkness blurs, lies the realm of Verenthia. Here, ancient forests loom with eerie silence, their branches twisted like the hands of forgotten gods. Mountains rise like jagged teeth, their peaks lost amidst swirling mists. Rivers flow with waters dark as obsidian, whispering secrets of times long past. It is a realm where magic pulses with a dangerous allure, where power comes at a cost, and where the shadows themselves seem to hunger.
Long ago, Verenthia was a land of prosperity, ruled by noble houses and revered orders of knights and mages. But the greed of mankind and the hunger for power corrupted the land. The once mighty houses turned against each other, waging wars that scarred the very fabric of reality. In their arrogance, they unleashed forces beyond their control, twisting the land and unleashing horrors from the depths of the abyss.
Now, centuries later, Verenthia is a fractured realm, its once great cities lying in ruin, their streets haunted by the restless dead and dark creatures born of nightmares. The noble houses have fallen, their bloodlines tainted by betrayal and madness. In their place, warlords and tyrants rise, ruling through fear and cruelty.
Magic, once a tool of enlightenment and wonder, has become a curse. Those who wield it risk madness and corruption, their souls consumed by the dark energies they seek to command. Yet, despite the dangers, there are still those who dare to harness its power, seeking to carve out their own destiny amidst the chaos.
In the heart of Verenthia lies the Veil, a barrier between the mortal realm and the abyss. It is a place of great power and even greater danger, where the boundaries between reality and nightmare blur. Some seek to breach the Veil, believing that untold riches and forbidden knowledge lie beyond. Others guard it fiercely, knowing that to tamper with its ancient wards is to invite doom upon the world.
And so, amidst the darkness, there are those who still cling to hope. Knights of forgotten orders, wandering scholars seeking lost knowledge, and brave souls who dare to challenge the darkness. They are few in number, but their resolve is unyielding. For in the depths of Verenthia's despair, there lies the faintest glimmer of hope that one day, the shadows may be banished, and the realm restored to its former glory. But whether that day will ever come remains to be seen, for in Verenthia, the line between hope and despair is as thin as a razor's edge.
I regularly go by DJ around these here parts, perhaps due to my past account life!
Enjoy some lore from yours truly, The Weaver of a Thousand Triumphs!
|The Tower of Lore Beckons all Lore Makers!||Come browse our stocks at The Convergence Plaza|
A great book all of you should read (or a great series rather) is Unsouled of the Cradle series.
What's life without a little war to spice things up. I am (As drummerboy stated) The master of many faces, The unseen puppeteer, & The unnoticed influence.
I am the Great sage equal to heaven- The monkey king
Etiam im librum scribo
Rudolph the first is a real person. It’s not a real name, but that’s not what matters. Rudolph the first was the best Toymaker who ever lived, and his dolls and stuffed animals were said to dance on their own and brought joy to villages everywhere. He was legendary. Then he was caught in the middle of a crime scene, holding the murder weapon: his own carving knife. Ninety three people died by his hand, and nobody expected that little old Toymaker to commit a crime so terrible. He burnt down his house with him inside it, but something managed to shamble out of the ashes, a project he was working on for a long time.
Rudolph the second is a real Name. It’s not a real person, but that’s not what matters. they look human, but their skin is made of wood underneath, and his eyes are tiny little painted orbs. He is just as good at toy making as his father, but nobody would buy his toys for fear he was a murderer just like his creator. This made Rudolph the second Angry, so he decided to fake his own death and assume a new identity. He even made a fake corpse to go with it.
Rudolph the third was the first one to really start the cycle. He was created by the second, who faked their own death and died of old age. Rudolph the second contacted the spirit of the original Rudolph, and learned everything they could from him. Rudolph the third worked with the first, carrying out their work to rid the world of evil forever, right from the root before they could do any harm. They snuck into homes through the chimney and took children away into the cold winter night. Eventually, he was caught and just barely escaped. He even left a distraction so he could get away.
Rudolph the Eighth was not a real person. He is now, but that’s not what matters. Starting his life as a tiny doll, he was taught everything he knows from all of the Rudolph’s that came before him. He was brought to Happy Days Sanitarium because people thought he was crazy for talking to voices inside his head. By some unconventional means, he escaped by creating an army of puppets to cause a giant fight. Then he fled to the Feywild, where he practiced his craft and continued the work of the Rudolph’s that came before him. Then, he disappeared, and a creature was left behind: his life’s work, made from a special material.
Blue, the Showman, is not a real Angel. People think he is, but it is all a facade. He seeks to gain power via entertaining others and rising up the social hierarchy. But, unfortunately, unlike his Rudolph Predecessors, he does not have a real body and therefore cannot grow. This is where the story is at currently.
I'm going to rework my main setting a bit. I'm removing Great Ones entirely. It was a tough decision, but I feel like it was right for the setting. It carves a huge chunk out of my worldbuilding, but I think it is for the best.
I am unruly in the stands
(I am a rock on top of the sand)
I am a fist amidst the hands
And I make a wreck out of my hand
(I make a fist and not a plan)
And I break it just because I can
I'm working on The Gøblengüder Part 2.
Kasrik Argentum Stellaris Fiddlesticks the Wizard, Lord of Stars, Master Trickster, and Creator of both the Mosh of Stardust Hornets and Mimiczilla.
"You're never fully dressed without a smile!" >:3
"Honk."
On Magic in Gøblenheim and the Verden
Magic is extremely rare within Gøblenheim, because those showing an interest or aptitude is Exiled to the Tunnels, where feral dark elves, giant spiders, and other banished goblins create an environment of constant danger that almost guarantees death.
Meanwhile, dark elves have access to potent magic, at the slow, gradual cost of their morals and compassion, eventually leading to psychopathy or sociopathy that degrades further into madness and feralness.
The cause of this price is an ancient Pact that was formed between dark elves and the Spider Queen, that lead to the Great Dark Elf/Goblin War, which has never really ended.
On the Surface, magic pools in some places and is nearly absent in others, though few have mastered it so far.
Kasrik Argentum Stellaris Fiddlesticks the Wizard, Lord of Stars, Master Trickster, and Creator of both the Mosh of Stardust Hornets and Mimiczilla.
"You're never fully dressed without a smile!" >:3
"Honk."
Thalacrose
Glossary:
A Monster is a normal creature that has consumed Thalacrose and has sustained mutations.
A Spirit is a being from the Nightmare
The Nightmare only opens during times of turmoil or great stress. It always changes each time it appears, and the world changes with its arrival.
One constant humanity has found is that there was always a specific chemical compound found only in the Nightmare: Thalacrose, a chemical sometimes called Deep Sugar. It forms in crystals underground, which melt into underground reservoirs, which are drunk up by the roots of plants, and then it infests those plants and the creatures that eat them.
Thalacrose is a strange chemical. Magical, even. It burns 10 times as hot as coal and for 3 times as long. It is an incredibly potent supplement, improving the flavor of anything incorporating it and rapidly making improvements to the body. It is a cure-all, a clean fuel source, and the key to the next step in evolution. Scientists have long sought how to grow the crystals, and unfortunately, have discovered their origin: pain.
Thalacrose responds to the stress of nearby creatures, growing larger and heating up, causing it to smoke. This can be seen in creatures with large amounts of it in their systems as well: they bleed smoke when injured, and when pushed to their limits, they will mutate and begin producing said smoke from their mouths, noses, and pores.
Thalacrose is a miracle material if that hasn’t been made clear, but it is also very fitting for something born of fear and pain. Burning it can conjure forth Spirits, horrible beasts from the Nightmare that have taken an interest in mortals. Any consumption of it will cause “evolution” of the darkest sorts. Mutations caused by Thalacrose are often as symbolic as they are powerful, such as a convicted criminal sprouting wings made of chains, allowing them to warp metal with their hands and fly like a bird, or a fatally ill mother turning into an ancient-looking creature with branches growing from her head, making her capable of brewing diseases in her flesh and birthing symbiotic parasites that empower their hosts at the cost of nutrients.
Burning Thalacrose in one’s body is dangerous, but often necessary. Supernatural abilities require one to digest this Deep Sugar, creating more smoke and heat. This takes a tremendous amount of energy, usually draining directly from calorie stores. Digesting too much Thalacrose at one time can give you heatstroke, boil your blood, wither you away, dehydrate you, or even much worse things. More powerful monsters can handle more strain, but they can still overheat and even die.
Hot, dry areas with little food are the bane of monsters everywhere. Monsters can only vent heat from their bodies if there is cooler air or water to replace it, so deserts are their greatest fear. In addition to this, monsters need much more food than the normal person. They burn calories at an incredible rate, and they need Thalacrose in their diets to unleash their full strength.
I am unruly in the stands
(I am a rock on top of the sand)
I am a fist amidst the hands
And I make a wreck out of my hand
(I make a fist and not a plan)
And I break it just because I can
↑
This is so cool!
Kasrik Argentum Stellaris Fiddlesticks the Wizard, Lord of Stars, Master Trickster, and Creator of both the Mosh of Stardust Hornets and Mimiczilla.
"You're never fully dressed without a smile!" >:3
"Honk."
Thank you so much! It's like the fifth iteration of this concept, and I wrote all this stuff up in the dead of the night because I needed to get it out of my head.
I am unruly in the stands
(I am a rock on top of the sand)
I am a fist amidst the hands
And I make a wreck out of my hand
(I make a fist and not a plan)
And I break it just because I can
Cool. My more recent stuff has taken days to write out, partly just from the sheer length of it.
Kasrik Argentum Stellaris Fiddlesticks the Wizard, Lord of Stars, Master Trickster, and Creator of both the Mosh of Stardust Hornets and Mimiczilla.
"You're never fully dressed without a smile!" >:3
"Honk."
So I'm trying to come up with a shorthand for my power system. You know, a visual element that signifies a powered individual and isn't likely to be mistaken for something else.
Actually, perhaps I could make it so that they could be mistaken for something else. That way, someone could be a powered person, but you'll never know for sure until they show off some supernatural traits.
In other words, they could easily just be mistaken for a member of an unknown fantasy lineage who just happens to be overweight or underweight. The only way to be sure is to get them to show you or get them extremely stressed, causing them to emit smoke.
What do you all think?
I am unruly in the stands
(I am a rock on top of the sand)
I am a fist amidst the hands
And I make a wreck out of my hand
(I make a fist and not a plan)
And I break it just because I can
Uh, I guess you all have heard this already. But- Kasrik_The_Wizard our Second-in-command here at the Tower is sadly leaving/Gone. Rest Kasrik, and replenish.
I suppose we don't have to think of Kasrik as leaving, but more or less just Taking a Long Rest. He needs to replenish his Spell Slots and HP People. So until he comes back and if he ever does. Lets keep the Tower of Lore moving, and lore circulating.
Keep Creating my Lorenites, keep creating and writing.
I regularly go by DJ around these here parts, perhaps due to my past account life!
Enjoy some lore from yours truly, The Weaver of a Thousand Triumphs!
|The Tower of Lore Beckons all Lore Makers!||Come browse our stocks at The Convergence Plaza|