359 years after the end of the Great Dark Elf War, Skrøggle Grebgles Wråkrend Skrëgglsen was crowned Fremragende Krigsherre (Great/Grand Warlord). He ruled with justice and a firm hand, and all of Gøblenheim prospered. Skrøggle married one Grøja Thœrntle Jœrriglsdattir, and they had their first son: the Crown Prince, Wrüngïn Fjœrn Ejød Skrøgglsen.
Soon, they had many more children: Rejlå Dræjn Skrøgglsdattir; Hræg Øddlïg Jœrd Skrøgglsen; Tærjønå Sœllå Skrøgglsdattir; Høgrïn Dœrn Øjån Skrøgglsen; and then they decided to raise the children they had, instead of continuing to have more. At least, for a time.
Then one day, after the Crown Prince had turned 13, Skrøggle and Grøja had another child. His name, was Skriggle.
Skriggle Rœrgriples Hrakfrürten Skrøgglsen.
And he was... different. Even as a small infant, he showed little love for his older siblings. He would pull their hair, and often bit them.
Skriggle was soon followed by Fragatha Grïstë Skrøgglsdattir, and soon after came Bjørgin Wörjån Rëjœn Skrøgglsen.
But then, two years after the birth of Bjørgin... tragedy struck. The pregnant Grøja was attacked by a giant spider while walking home, and she was fatally wounded. Høgrïn, who was walking with her, was able to slay the foul creature, but could not save Grøja from the spider's venom.
Høgrïn was then named Høgrïn Edderkoppedræberen, for he swore to hunt down and slay every spider he could find, and also Høgrïn De Fortvivlede, for he never recovered from that tragedy.
But there was a small spark of light in the dark despair that the kingdom felt that day. The Kongelig Gejstlig (Royal Cleric) was able to save the twins, who had not been touched by the venom, and they lived on despite their frailness and smaller size.
Years passed, and life continued, though it had dimmed, and lost some of the brightness it once had. The twins, Gretchen Vånja Skrøgglsdattir, who was named Gretchen Den Strålende, and Throkmørtån Svëglen Jåndur Skrøgglsen, who was named Throkmørtån Forståelsen, were beloved by the subjects of Gøblenheim. Skrøggle never remarried, but instead worked to take care of his children, so that they would be ready for their duties as royalty.
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The Royal Massacre & Rise of Grand Warlord Skriggle
After his thirteenth birthday, Skriggle Skrøgglsen began to devise a plot. A grab for power, that would eliminate anyone and everyone standing between him and the Kronhjelm. He convinced his younger siblings, Fragatha and Throkmørtån, to aid him in his endeavors, and they began working in secret, devising their subtle machinations.
The day they chose to enact their plan, was Skriggle's fifteenth birthday–the day he would be old enough to wear the Kronhjelm, and rule Gøblenheim.
For a year and a half, they planted the seeds of their uprising. They trained to become better warriors, while their older siblings were busy studying statecraft. Fragatha discovered a powder, that would combust when ignited. Bjørgin became an unexpectedly skilled fighter, with a strong preference for using a pair of hand axes. And Skriggle studied poisons, herbs, and the training of beasts.
When the "day" of Skriggle's birthday began, the plan seemed to already be unraveling. Høgrïn wasn't there. He had left on a hunting trip the day before, and wouldn't return until 3 days later. But still, the three decided to continue with their plot.
During the celebratory Middagsfest (Noon Feast), everything seemed normal...
Until Wrüngïn dropped dead, right in the middle of his traditional speech.
Within seconds, it was chaos. Fragatha ignited krudt that had been hidden under the Kongelig Bord (Royal Table), while Bjørgin and Skriggle ran of of the dias it was seated on. The blast gravely wounded Rejlå and tore Hræg's leg off, and Bjørgin decapitated the latter.
Tærjønå fought hard against Fragatha, but despite her greater strength, she was outclassed by Fragatha in terms of martial training and speed. Thus, Tærjønå fell, and only Grand Warlord Skrøggle was left, for the twins had been taken to safety by Sköl, Skriggle's pet direwolf, as had been planned.
Skriggle himself slew Skrøggle, and thus the Royal Massacre concluded. The guards had been bribed, and the guests had fled.
Two days later, Skriggle Rœrgriples Hrakfrürten Skrøgglsen, now also named Skriggle Familiedræberen, was crowned with the Kronhjelm, and was declared Fremragende Krigsherre.
When Høgrïn returned, he was banished from Gøblenheim until the end of days.
Somewhere in some forgotten land sat a small village, The village prospered thanks to its location near both a plentiful river and a bountiful forest. The town and its villagers prospered thanks to trade, the exotic fish in their river brought fishers from distant lands to try to capture the mighty beasts. The bountiful forest with its rare fruits and vegetables brought chefs and gourmet cooks from all around to use them in their dishes. Then one fateful day, a mighty warlord came to the village. The name of this man was Convalesco, who’s name meant “To Rampage.” The Village had heard stories of the warlord from the travelers who came to rest in their Inns and drink in their Taverns; they cowered before him. But the Warlord only made one simple request: He told them their fish, fruits and vegetables were common, and people had grown the world over. Thus, he had one request, bring him a fish that was exotic and never seen before. The Warlord gave them 4 days to bring the fish to the center square, where he would wait. Soon after leaving to set up camp the villagers fell for their leader, they wailed begging for him to think of a plan to soothe the warlords' demands. The leader sat there for 2 of the 4 days, devising and thinking of a plan to soothe the demands of the warlord. On the third day, his son came to the leader. The child's name was Arnoséris, He told his father that he had a plan to not only soothe the desires of the warlord, but also teach him a lesson. On the fourth and final day the Warlord sat in the town square, his men ready to burn and raze the town if they had failed to meet demands. Then came Arnoséris, he told the warlord to follow him. Thus, the warlord had followed him, they had arrived at the river where sat a fishing pole and the town. They all quivered with fear keeping their distance from the pole. The Warlord understood, he grabbed the pole and waited for a pull or tug. Not long after, the Warlord was suddenly pulled from his feet into the water. He spat out water as he looked at what had pulled him into the water, it was the Leader of the village. He told him he wanted an exotic fish, well. What was more exotic than to fish for a human? The town laughed at the Warlord, yet the warlord, after feeling truly embarrassed laughed at the scenario he found himself in. Yet, as he tried to leave the water, the leader and warlord found themselves stuck. They struggled and pulled but they were stuck in the river. Soon after realizing they were stuck the Leader was pulled under the water, the warlord followed soon after. The river began to be stained blood red, two skulls, picked clean of flesh, slowly drifted down the river.
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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!
no person in the world hasn’t heard of the tale of why the sky moves through our sky. It all started with a small mortal boy who lived by a lake in the land of eternal night, a half of the world where the sun didn’t shine. The boy didn’t live near a village, but in a cabin with his parents. His parents were retired adventurers known for slaying numerous monsters and creatures trying to steal the sun. But when a foe too powerful for them arrived, Grimwolf the Sun eater, they fled and let the gods themselves kill the horrid beast. And so they settled at a lake under the Stars, in eternal night. But one day, A clever fiendish thief managed to take the sun from its place in the sky under the god’s noses, hiding it in the bed of a lake, plunging the world into shadow. Creatures of eternal darkness rose from their graves and exited their caves, and ravaged the land that was once guarded by the light. Civilization, not used to having to deal with such horrid monsters, was quickly almost destroyed. When the boy heard about it, he became determined to help them. Partially because of selflessness, but also partially because his cousin lived there, and he heard she was still alive. So he studied for years while the war was going on between humans and monsters on the other side of the world, trying to find a way to stop them all at once. One day, 4 years after the sun was stolen, the boy was contemplating what to do while skipping stones. Then, he saw something under the water. He dove into the lake to retrieve it, as it was glowing dimly. He surfaced with a small rock in hand: the Sun, transformed into a small rock. He realized if he could find a way to undo the spell keeping it in that form, he could bring back light to the world. So he set out to find some powerful magic to undo the curse. After numerous attempts, he found something: Ambrosia. A golden apple growing on a single tree in the heavens. He went and employed a guide to bring him to heaven. For an entire year they walked across the world, gathering ingredients for a spell to open the gates to heaven atop a mountain. They climbed the mountain and completed the spell, and the boy entered heaven and snuck into the garden the Ambrosia tree grew, and stole an apple. He used the apple in a ritual to undo the sun’s curse after going back to the mountain. It worked. And suddenly, he realized that he would be incinerated, along with his guide, in mere moments as the stone started to brighten and burn. So he threw the sun, burning his arm to ash in the process, off the mountain. And the sun kept going across the sky. The boy died from his wounds, but soon the sun came hurtling back towards them. The boy’s spirit, not wanting the sun to crash into the mountain and destroy all the nearby settlements, caught the sun out of sheer willpower and threw it again. For his bravery, determination, and sacrifice, his guide, who he saved, snuck back into heaven for one last time and offered the spirit of the boy ambrosia. The boy ate the ambrosia, and was granted immortality and godhood. He still stays on that mountain every day of the year, catching and throwing the sun at the gates to heaven before it crashes to the earth. He had become the new god of the sun, and is widely worshiped and regarded as a great hero.
I have something perfect for this! The creation lore of a setting I have been working on for quite some time!
The first sound to ring out of the blackness was the clanging of metal on metal. Neteth, God of Order and Zeyleth, God of Chaos, locked in an eternal battle, keeping the balance of the universe. Neither good nor evil, but merely keeping the other's power in check. From the sparks of their blades, the first stars took form. From the broken shards of their weapons, the land came into existence. And from the blood they spilt, the oceans rose up. Eons passed, and the first people walked the earth. They lived in peace, until their discovery of magic. Those with magic believed themselves better than those without, and left to establish their own nation. Their greed and lust for power continued to grow, until the Day of Reckoning.
It all began with the birth of a man by the name of Kav'ai, the most evil of all creatures to ever crawl the earth. He believed himself to be the only person fit for the throne, and took it by force. As he became older, he feared that his life was ending, and he discovered the darkest of magic, becoming the first lich. But this was not enough, for his hunger would never be satiated. He wished to become a god. His extended life allowed him the proper time to further explore the possibilities of the dark magic he had discovered. He eventually discovered the way to godhood, and became the God of Evil. His form changed in the process, his once beautiful frame becoming hunched and deformed. He became darkness, as even light ran from his now hideous countenance.
It was then that the Day of Reckoning came. Neteth and Zeyleth both saw the darkness that had consumed their creation, and for the only time in the universe's existence, lay down their weapons and wiped out the cruel beings that had defiled the world. Together, they forged a sword capable of killing Kav'ai, but he fought feircly, and the blade came crashing down to the earth, gone without a trace. Their only hope was to imprison him in a separate plane, where he is now sealed for all eternity. After the battle had been won, the Gods decided to award the kind hearted peoples who had no magic. The ability to use magic was given to all, but they did make sure it was less powerful than the last time. Each nation also presented one of their best and brightest, and Neteth and Zeyleth granted them eternal life and a small amount of their godly power, proclaiming them the Oracles of Aeralon. With the balance restored, Neteth and Zeyleth both agreed it best to put their temporary alliance aside, and began their endless battle once more.
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Idk I'm just a guy ig
I like Warlocks
I like guitars (coming up on my fifth year of playing!)
I want to be a musician/stay-at-home dad when I grow up
Recently obsessing over Warhammer 40k, specifically the T’au empire
I have something perfect for this! The creation lore of a setting I have been working on for quite some time!
The first sound to ring out of the blackness was the clanging of metal on metal. Neteth, God of Order and Zeyleth, God of Chaos, locked in an eternal battle, keeping the balance of the universe. Neither good nor evil, but merely keeping the other's power in check. From the sparks of their blades, the first stars took form. From the broken shards of their weapons, the land came into existence. And from the blood they spilt, the oceans rose up. Eons passed, and the first people walked the earth. They lived in peace, until their discovery of magic. Those with magic believed themselves better than those without, and left to establish their own nation. Their greed and lust for power continued to grow, until the Day of Reckoning.
It all began with the birth of a man by the name of Kav'ai, the most evil of all creatures to ever crawl the earth. He believed himself to be the only person fit for the throne, and took it by force. As he became older, he feared that his life was ending, and he discovered the darkest of magic, becoming the first lich. But this was not enough, for his hunger would never be satiated. He wished to become a god. His extended life allowed him the proper time to further explore the possibilities of the dark magic he had discovered. He eventually discovered the way to godhood, and became the God of Evil. His form changed in the process, his once beautiful frame becoming hunched and deformed. He became darkness, as even light ran from his now hideous countenance.
It was then that the Day of Reckoning came. Neteth and Zeyleth both saw the darkness that had consumed their creation, and for the only time in the universe's existence, lay down their weapons and wiped out the cruel beings that had defiled the world. Together, they forged a sword capable of killing Kav'ai, but he fought feircly, and the blade came crashing down to the earth, gone without a trace. Their only hope was to imprison him in a separate plane, where he is now sealed for all eternity. After the battle had been won, the Gods decided to award the kind hearted peoples who had no magic. The ability to use magic was given to all, but they did make sure it was less powerful than the last time. Each nation also presented one of their best and brightest, and Neteth and Zeyleth granted them eternal life and a small amount of their godly power, proclaiming them the Oracles of Aeralon. With the balance restored, Neteth and Zeyleth both agreed it best to put their temporary alliance aside, and began their endless battle once more.
All vorpal swords come from the feywild. This is because it is impossible to craft one outside the feywild. And even then, blacksmiths must train for hundreds of years to perfect the technique to make a vorpal sword, as a vorpal sword must be perfect, otherwise it isn’t a true vorpal sword.
the process of crafting a vorpal sword takes several hours. First, you must gather the metal hair of a Korred or use metal that was used to kill something, and melt it. The fire must be fueled by the wood of a TumTum tree, occasionally found in forests in the feywild, known for their orange and pink leaves during Autumn. While the metal is heating up, you must not speak. You then must forge it into a perfect three foot long sword that is extremely sharp, which you must do while singing. It then must be cooled in the blood of a bandersnatch. After that, you wait for a time between 3 minutes and nine hours. (The maker instinctively knows when in that timeframe to do this) Once you do, swing the sword in the air facing west. If, and only if the sword makes a snicker-snack sound, is it a vorpal sword. A vorpal sword can cut through any nonmagical material and it never dulls. And, when fighting an opponent, the vorpal sword leaps towards the neck, usually decapitating them instantly.
only around a quarter of potential vorpal swords make a snicker-snack sound, so most of the swords a blacksmith makes using this technique aren’t even vorpal swords.
Vorpal swords were originally designed as a way to kill the bandersnatch, which is one of the only two ways to kill one. A bandersnatch’s blood is exceptionally hard to get from a living specimen, considering they can run as fast as quicklings, but it’s possible. However, Vorpal swords are now more commonly used as weapons for fey knights and champions as well as adventurers who can pay a Fey blacksmith the extreme price to make one for them. Winxy pistols are now the main method of killing bandersnatches, although vorpal swords still work.
any creature could theoretically create a Vorpal sword, but most can’t as it requires hundreds of years of training in order to learn how to do it perfectly, so fey are usually the only creatures that have the time.
— δ cyησ • τηε crσc mαsτεr • hε/hιm δ — “sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ, ɪ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴜs.” ——————| EXTENDED SIG |—————— Φ • happily married to • ☁️ℝ𝔼𝔻ℙ𝔼𝕃𝕋☁️ • As vast as the sun, stars, and the sky itself, so is my promise to you • Φ
— δ cyησ • τηε crσc mαsτεr • hε/hιm δ — “sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ, ɪ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴜs.” ——————| EXTENDED SIG |—————— Φ • happily married to • ☁️ℝ𝔼𝔻ℙ𝔼𝕃𝕋☁️ • As vast as the sun, stars, and the sky itself, so is my promise to you • Φ
krios is a small kingdom that is known for their beautiful art and music. It has a large navy, as the kingdom is most populated on a zaratan (island turtle) that is constantly drifting throughout the bay of silver sand. The Zaratan is named azatresis, but most of the locals call him Max. He doesn’t leave the bay, as the locals feed him and keep him safe. In exchange, he Carries a city on his back. The city is called tresis, the city of symphony. It is known for its beautiful music, as well as it’s glittering marble towers. Most bards come from this city, or the kingdom in general, as the magic of music is a widely taught subject. Some scholars theorize that Max is the descendant or even direct child of Leviathan, one of the creatures that came before the gods, child of Tiamat, the largest creature on the planet, making krakens look like ants, and the prince of envy, one of the seven rulers of hell. This is not confirmed, although it seems that many creatures in the bay of silver sand are thought of be somehow related to Leviathan.
The Opera House
the fabled opera house of Krios is the little brother of Max, also a giant turtle. However, it is also an accomplished bard who wrote extremely popular music. The opera house is named tenebri, but is simply called the Opera House by the inhabitants. It’s shell is hollow, and is shaped like a perfect place to perform, with stages, soundproof walls, and everything you could ever need. It’s shell can even glow in the dark. Tenebri is much smaller than max, being around a tenth the size. It rests at the bottom of the bay, arising at night or whenever it agreed to that day. It’s main goal is to help others with their musical dreams, and it does that very well. Every Dreamcatching, (its a special holiday I’ll explain later) the opera house puts on a magnificent show that is so famous most people have heard the entire thing without ever actually being there to watch it.
Castor and Pollux
Castor and Pollux are enormous whales that have been tormenting the coast of west Krios for years. They swim up and down the coast, sinking ships, eating all the fish, and killing sharks. Not eating the sharks. Just killing them. Their favorite spot to stay at was nicknamed “Lucifer’s plate,” because of how many shark corpses washed up there. Some believe that castor and pollux are also the children of Leviathan, although others believe they are some of the original children of Tiamat themselves. Castor and pollux seem intelligent, and they often follow certain ships, and even people who escaped them.
More about Krios
Krios is mostly populated in the bay of silver sand, which makes up only a small part of Krios. The rest of Krios is along most of the continent’s west coast, filled with rocky beaches in the south and warm, sandy beaches closer to the middle. Around 3/4 of Krios lives in the bay of silver sand. While the rest live spread across the rest of the territory in small villages, working as blacksmiths, farmers, other such jobs, or aspiring musicians or painters looking to move to Tresis.
Long ago, in the vast cavern of Gøblenheim, rumors began to spread of a terrible creature, that inflicts misery and mischief for its own amusement, before disappearing without receiving any consequence for its actions.
The feathered fiend began to quickly gain a reputation as a heartless trickster, that enjoyed the suffering of others.
It became known as, the Forfærdelig Gås (Horrible Goose).
Nobody knows where it disappears to, or who it will choose to torment next...
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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.
11. The weak swordsman clings to his instrument. It is better you have a sword, but death must lie under your fingernails, if need be. Learn death with your elbows, death with your knees, and death with your thumbs and fingertips. It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull.
Alrighty Lorians(?) Loriates(?) Loremakers(?) Whatever, I have decided I am going to make a Tavern Thread set in my Homebrew world of Na Ríochta Scamaill (The Clouded Realms) So I won't be on for a slight bit. So PM me if ya need something. HIgh Seer Vanish
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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!
Time for some Lore on my Homebrew World specifically the gods.
Creideamh, bandia na bua and the First Warforged
Long ago before the Great War, even before the Old Lands were created there lived a Human. His name was Rhys Dorrian, he lived a humble life as a Bladesmith. He gave out blades to those who needed them; Warlords, Knights, and even farmers in some cases. He had branded himself "The Best Smith in the Realm" Unbeknownst to Rhys, Within the Ríocht Neamh (Heaven Realm), there was the goddess; Creideamh, The Goddess of Victory. She had watched Rhys and his work and became furious with him, Who was this human to give himself such a Title? Certainly he was no better than her! So, she devised a plan; she would transform her figure and go to his forge and challenge him, Once she had beat him in the challenge she would make him give up Forging so he could never beat her. Thus, she had done such. She had gone up to Rhys's forge, she had challenged him. However, she had not prepared for him to be so fluent in the art of bladesmithing, The weapon the goddess made was a Mighty Spear. It was adorned with her own symbol; a Spear and shield. Rhys's work was a Powerful Sword, it had a hammer symbol engraved in the blade and a rather basic design. She had branded herself the winner, suprisngly, Rhys had accepted that he had lost. The Goddess felt pity for him, he truly did adore the forge and how it made him feel. Thus, she had done him a "Favor" of sorts. She had combined the forge, his weapon, and hers. All into him, the materials bound his body and metal together. When it was done he was made stronger, faster, more sturdy. The first Warforged had been Made, and to honor Rhys and his bladesmithing, She had given him a new name; Cinneadh (Determination)
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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!
No mortals have ever witnessed the utter horror that is Harpocrates and remained unchanged. Total, deafening silence that devours all in utter nothingness. The god of Secrets and silence is worshipped only by those who have been blessed by him and need to repay him, as no creature willingly worships the nightmare. His shrines are the underground sewers and crypts refurbished into secret halls of statues and the homes of cultists, filled with utter and divine silence. To break the silence is to disrespect Harpocrates, and so most of the shrines Are under a permanent silence spell.
now, why would anyone be serving Harpocrates, you may ask? Well, it’s because if you invoke his name and his symbol, the rose, and swear to secrecy about something, that secret will never be found out unless Harpocrates specifically wishes so. And creatures sell their souls to him for further protection, such as their whereabouts being hidden from their worst enemy, their secret lover being able to disappear from a nation even when they are being relentlessly hunted down, the location of a secret, world ending item can be forever erased from history, all for the price of your soul. And this is how the silent beast gains power, the souls of thousands who entrusted him with their secrets.
Harpocrates himself can’t be sensed by any means whatsoever, divine or otherwise, so his true form is unknown but rumored to be monstrous and beast like. But his avatars, which he sends to fight or make deals with creatures, are usually in the form of human children or enormous dire wolves with their mouths sewed shut. Their true form and avatars emanate a crushing silence that can physically harm people and that cannot be broken by anything short of an Overgod or the most powerful elder evils intervening, and their true form not being able to be broken at all, by any force in existence. This silence prevents Harpocrates from talking, so instead, he communicates using images, which he either draws or simply sends them directly to the target’s mind.
Harpocrates and his followers all smell strongly of roses.
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Yay!
Master of the overground
🍅 PM me the word 'tomato' 🍅 Extended Signature
*Been working hard on this.*
The Children of Skrøggle
359 years after the end of the Great Dark Elf War, Skrøggle Grebgles Wråkrend Skrëgglsen was crowned Fremragende Krigsherre (Great/Grand Warlord). He ruled with justice and a firm hand, and all of Gøblenheim prospered. Skrøggle married one Grøja Thœrntle Jœrriglsdattir, and they had their first son: the Crown Prince, Wrüngïn Fjœrn Ejød Skrøgglsen.
Soon, they had many more children: Rejlå Dræjn Skrøgglsdattir; Hræg Øddlïg Jœrd Skrøgglsen; Tærjønå Sœllå Skrøgglsdattir; Høgrïn Dœrn Øjån Skrøgglsen; and then they decided to raise the children they had, instead of continuing to have more. At least, for a time.
Then one day, after the Crown Prince had turned 13, Skrøggle and Grøja had another child. His name, was Skriggle.
Skriggle Rœrgriples Hrakfrürten Skrøgglsen.
And he was... different. Even as a small infant, he showed little love for his older siblings. He would pull their hair, and often bit them.
Skriggle was soon followed by Fragatha Grïstë Skrøgglsdattir, and soon after came Bjørgin Wörjån Rëjœn Skrøgglsen.
But then, two years after the birth of Bjørgin... tragedy struck. The pregnant Grøja was attacked by a giant spider while walking home, and she was fatally wounded. Høgrïn, who was walking with her, was able to slay the foul creature, but could not save Grøja from the spider's venom.
Høgrïn was then named Høgrïn Edderkoppedræberen, for he swore to hunt down and slay every spider he could find, and also Høgrïn De Fortvivlede, for he never recovered from that tragedy.
But there was a small spark of light in the dark despair that the kingdom felt that day. The Kongelig Gejstlig (Royal Cleric) was able to save the twins, who had not been touched by the venom, and they lived on despite their frailness and smaller size.
Years passed, and life continued, though it had dimmed, and lost some of the brightness it once had. The twins, Gretchen Vånja Skrøgglsdattir, who was named Gretchen Den Strålende, and Throkmørtån Svëglen Jåndur Skrøgglsen, who was named Throkmørtån Forståelsen, were beloved by the subjects of Gøblenheim. Skrøggle never remarried, but instead worked to take care of his children, so that they would be ready for their duties as royalty.
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The Royal Massacre & Rise of Grand Warlord Skriggle
After his thirteenth birthday, Skriggle Skrøgglsen began to devise a plot. A grab for power, that would eliminate anyone and everyone standing between him and the Kronhjelm. He convinced his younger siblings, Fragatha and Throkmørtån, to aid him in his endeavors, and they began working in secret, devising their subtle machinations.
The day they chose to enact their plan, was Skriggle's fifteenth birthday–the day he would be old enough to wear the Kronhjelm, and rule Gøblenheim.
For a year and a half, they planted the seeds of their uprising. They trained to become better warriors, while their older siblings were busy studying statecraft. Fragatha discovered a powder, that would combust when ignited. Bjørgin became an unexpectedly skilled fighter, with a strong preference for using a pair of hand axes. And Skriggle studied poisons, herbs, and the training of beasts.
When the "day" of Skriggle's birthday began, the plan seemed to already be unraveling. Høgrïn wasn't there. He had left on a hunting trip the day before, and wouldn't return until 3 days later. But still, the three decided to continue with their plot.
During the celebratory Middagsfest (Noon Feast), everything seemed normal...
Until Wrüngïn dropped dead, right in the middle of his traditional speech.
Within seconds, it was chaos. Fragatha ignited krudt that had been hidden under the Kongelig Bord (Royal Table), while Bjørgin and Skriggle ran of of the dias it was seated on. The blast gravely wounded Rejlå and tore Hræg's leg off, and Bjørgin decapitated the latter.
Tærjønå fought hard against Fragatha, but despite her greater strength, she was outclassed by Fragatha in terms of martial training and speed. Thus, Tærjønå fell, and only Grand Warlord Skrøggle was left, for the twins had been taken to safety by Sköl, Skriggle's pet direwolf, as had been planned.
Skriggle himself slew Skrøggle, and thus the Royal Massacre concluded. The guards had been bribed, and the guests had fled.
Two days later, Skriggle Rœrgriples Hrakfrürten Skrøgglsen, now also named Skriggle Familiedræberen, was crowned with the Kronhjelm, and was declared Fremragende Krigsherre.
When Høgrïn returned, he was banished from Gøblenheim until the end of days.
Thus ends the tale of the Royal Massacre.
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."
Nice! Gøblenheim is always fun to learn more about.
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|
Thanks, I love writing about my land of Gøblenheim.
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."
Here's some lore that I recently made.
The Drowning Beast
Somewhere in some forgotten land sat a small village, The village prospered thanks to its location near both a plentiful river and a bountiful forest. The town and its villagers prospered thanks to trade, the exotic fish in their river brought fishers from distant lands to try to capture the mighty beasts. The bountiful forest with its rare fruits and vegetables brought chefs and gourmet cooks from all around to use them in their dishes. Then one fateful day, a mighty warlord came to the village. The name of this man was Convalesco, who’s name meant “To Rampage.” The Village had heard stories of the warlord from the travelers who came to rest in their Inns and drink in their Taverns; they cowered before him. But the Warlord only made one simple request: He told them their fish, fruits and vegetables were common, and people had grown the world over. Thus, he had one request, bring him a fish that was exotic and never seen before. The Warlord gave them 4 days to bring the fish to the center square, where he would wait. Soon after leaving to set up camp the villagers fell for their leader, they wailed begging for him to think of a plan to soothe the warlords' demands. The leader sat there for 2 of the 4 days, devising and thinking of a plan to soothe the demands of the warlord. On the third day, his son came to the leader. The child's name was Arnoséris, He told his father that he had a plan to not only soothe the desires of the warlord, but also teach him a lesson. On the fourth and final day the Warlord sat in the town square, his men ready to burn and raze the town if they had failed to meet demands. Then came Arnoséris, he told the warlord to follow him. Thus, the warlord had followed him, they had arrived at the river where sat a fishing pole and the town. They all quivered with fear keeping their distance from the pole. The Warlord understood, he grabbed the pole and waited for a pull or tug. Not long after, the Warlord was suddenly pulled from his feet into the water. He spat out water as he looked at what had pulled him into the water, it was the Leader of the village. He told him he wanted an exotic fish, well. What was more exotic than to fish for a human? The town laughed at the Warlord, yet the warlord, after feeling truly embarrassed laughed at the scenario he found himself in. Yet, as he tried to leave the water, the leader and warlord found themselves stuck. They struggled and pulled but they were stuck in the river. Soon after realizing they were stuck the Leader was pulled under the water, the warlord followed soon after. The river began to be stained blood red, two skulls, picked clean of flesh, slowly drifted down the river.
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|
*gonna start writing more Gøblenheim lore soon*
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."
Lore!
The boy who Threw the sun
no person in the world hasn’t heard of the tale of why the sky moves through our sky. It all started with a small mortal boy who lived by a lake in the land of eternal night, a half of the world where the sun didn’t shine. The boy didn’t live near a village, but in a cabin with his parents. His parents were retired adventurers known for slaying numerous monsters and creatures trying to steal the sun. But when a foe too powerful for them arrived, Grimwolf the Sun eater, they fled and let the gods themselves kill the horrid beast. And so they settled at a lake under the Stars, in eternal night. But one day, A clever fiendish thief managed to take the sun from its place in the sky under the god’s noses, hiding it in the bed of a lake, plunging the world into shadow. Creatures of eternal darkness rose from their graves and exited their caves, and ravaged the land that was once guarded by the light. Civilization, not used to having to deal with such horrid monsters, was quickly almost destroyed. When the boy heard about it, he became determined to help them. Partially because of selflessness, but also partially because his cousin lived there, and he heard she was still alive. So he studied for years while the war was going on between humans and monsters on the other side of the world, trying to find a way to stop them all at once. One day, 4 years after the sun was stolen, the boy was contemplating what to do while skipping stones. Then, he saw something under the water. He dove into the lake to retrieve it, as it was glowing dimly. He surfaced with a small rock in hand: the Sun, transformed into a small rock. He realized if he could find a way to undo the spell keeping it in that form, he could bring back light to the world. So he set out to find some powerful magic to undo the curse. After numerous attempts, he found something: Ambrosia. A golden apple growing on a single tree in the heavens. He went and employed a guide to bring him to heaven. For an entire year they walked across the world, gathering ingredients for a spell to open the gates to heaven atop a mountain. They climbed the mountain and completed the spell, and the boy entered heaven and snuck into the garden the Ambrosia tree grew, and stole an apple. He used the apple in a ritual to undo the sun’s curse after going back to the mountain. It worked. And suddenly, he realized that he would be incinerated, along with his guide, in mere moments as the stone started to brighten and burn. So he threw the sun, burning his arm to ash in the process, off the mountain. And the sun kept going across the sky. The boy died from his wounds, but soon the sun came hurtling back towards them. The boy’s spirit, not wanting the sun to crash into the mountain and destroy all the nearby settlements, caught the sun out of sheer willpower and threw it again. For his bravery, determination, and sacrifice, his guide, who he saved, snuck back into heaven for one last time and offered the spirit of the boy ambrosia. The boy ate the ambrosia, and was granted immortality and godhood. He still stays on that mountain every day of the year, catching and throwing the sun at the gates to heaven before it crashes to the earth. He had become the new god of the sun, and is widely worshiped and regarded as a great hero.
I have something perfect for this! The creation lore of a setting I have been working on for quite some time!
The first sound to ring out of the blackness was the clanging of metal on metal. Neteth, God of Order and Zeyleth, God of Chaos, locked in an eternal battle, keeping the balance of the universe. Neither good nor evil, but merely keeping the other's power in check. From the sparks of their blades, the first stars took form. From the broken shards of their weapons, the land came into existence. And from the blood they spilt, the oceans rose up. Eons passed, and the first people walked the earth. They lived in peace, until their discovery of magic. Those with magic believed themselves better than those without, and left to establish their own nation. Their greed and lust for power continued to grow, until the Day of Reckoning.
It all began with the birth of a man by the name of Kav'ai, the most evil of all creatures to ever crawl the earth. He believed himself to be the only person fit for the throne, and took it by force. As he became older, he feared that his life was ending, and he discovered the darkest of magic, becoming the first lich. But this was not enough, for his hunger would never be satiated. He wished to become a god. His extended life allowed him the proper time to further explore the possibilities of the dark magic he had discovered. He eventually discovered the way to godhood, and became the God of Evil. His form changed in the process, his once beautiful frame becoming hunched and deformed. He became darkness, as even light ran from his now hideous countenance.
It was then that the Day of Reckoning came. Neteth and Zeyleth both saw the darkness that had consumed their creation, and for the only time in the universe's existence, lay down their weapons and wiped out the cruel beings that had defiled the world. Together, they forged a sword capable of killing Kav'ai, but he fought feircly, and the blade came crashing down to the earth, gone without a trace. Their only hope was to imprison him in a separate plane, where he is now sealed for all eternity. After the battle had been won, the Gods decided to award the kind hearted peoples who had no magic. The ability to use magic was given to all, but they did make sure it was less powerful than the last time. Each nation also presented one of their best and brightest, and Neteth and Zeyleth granted them eternal life and a small amount of their godly power, proclaiming them the Oracles of Aeralon. With the balance restored, Neteth and Zeyleth both agreed it best to put their temporary alliance aside, and began their endless battle once more.
Idk I'm just a guy ig
I like Warlocks
I like guitars (coming up on my fifth year of playing!)
I want to be a musician/stay-at-home dad when I grow up
Recently obsessing over Warhammer 40k, specifically the T’au empire
Love it!
Vorpal swords
All vorpal swords come from the feywild. This is because it is impossible to craft one outside the feywild. And even then, blacksmiths must train for hundreds of years to perfect the technique to make a vorpal sword, as a vorpal sword must be perfect, otherwise it isn’t a true vorpal sword.
the process of crafting a vorpal sword takes several hours. First, you must gather the metal hair of a Korred or use metal that was used to kill something, and melt it. The fire must be fueled by the wood of a TumTum tree, occasionally found in forests in the feywild, known for their orange and pink leaves during Autumn. While the metal is heating up, you must not speak. You then must forge it into a perfect three foot long sword that is extremely sharp, which you must do while singing. It then must be cooled in the blood of a bandersnatch. After that, you wait for a time between 3 minutes and nine hours. (The maker instinctively knows when in that timeframe to do this) Once you do, swing the sword in the air facing west. If, and only if the sword makes a snicker-snack sound, is it a vorpal sword. A vorpal sword can cut through any nonmagical material and it never dulls. And, when fighting an opponent, the vorpal sword leaps towards the neck, usually decapitating them instantly.
only around a quarter of potential vorpal swords make a snicker-snack sound, so most of the swords a blacksmith makes using this technique aren’t even vorpal swords.
Vorpal swords were originally designed as a way to kill the bandersnatch, which is one of the only two ways to kill one. A bandersnatch’s blood is exceptionally hard to get from a living specimen, considering they can run as fast as quicklings, but it’s possible. However, Vorpal swords are now more commonly used as weapons for fey knights and champions as well as adventurers who can pay a Fey blacksmith the extreme price to make one for them. Winxy pistols are now the main method of killing bandersnatches, although vorpal swords still work.
any creature could theoretically create a Vorpal sword, but most can’t as it requires hundreds of years of training in order to learn how to do it perfectly, so fey are usually the only creatures that have the time.
Can I just… drop my sourcebook here?
— δ cyησ • τηε crσc mαsτεr • hε/hιm δ —
“sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ, ɪ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴜs.”
——————| EXTENDED SIG |——————
Φ • happily married to • ☁️ℝ𝔼𝔻ℙ𝔼𝕃𝕋☁️ • As vast as the sun, stars, and the sky itself, so is my promise to you • Φ
Sure.
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|
https://homebrewery.naturalcrit.com/share/S0MJShsQQA1k Something I’m making for my HB world.
— δ cyησ • τηε crσc mαsτεr • hε/hιm δ —
“sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ, ɪ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴜs.”
——————| EXTENDED SIG |——————
Φ • happily married to • ☁️ℝ𝔼𝔻ℙ𝔼𝕃𝕋☁️ • As vast as the sun, stars, and the sky itself, so is my promise to you • Φ
krios is a small kingdom that is known for their beautiful art and music. It has a large navy, as the kingdom is most populated on a zaratan (island turtle) that is constantly drifting throughout the bay of silver sand. The Zaratan is named azatresis, but most of the locals call him Max. He doesn’t leave the bay, as the locals feed him and keep him safe. In exchange, he Carries a city on his back. The city is called tresis, the city of symphony. It is known for its beautiful music, as well as it’s glittering marble towers. Most bards come from this city, or the kingdom in general, as the magic of music is a widely taught subject. Some scholars theorize that Max is the descendant or even direct child of Leviathan, one of the creatures that came before the gods, child of Tiamat, the largest creature on the planet, making krakens look like ants, and the prince of envy, one of the seven rulers of hell. This is not confirmed, although it seems that many creatures in the bay of silver sand are thought of be somehow related to Leviathan.
The Opera House
the fabled opera house of Krios is the little brother of Max, also a giant turtle. However, it is also an accomplished bard who wrote extremely popular music. The opera house is named tenebri, but is simply called the Opera House by the inhabitants. It’s shell is hollow, and is shaped like a perfect place to perform, with stages, soundproof walls, and everything you could ever need. It’s shell can even glow in the dark. Tenebri is much smaller than max, being around a tenth the size. It rests at the bottom of the bay, arising at night or whenever it agreed to that day. It’s main goal is to help others with their musical dreams, and it does that very well. Every Dreamcatching, (its a special holiday I’ll explain later) the opera house puts on a magnificent show that is so famous most people have heard the entire thing without ever actually being there to watch it.
Castor and Pollux
Castor and Pollux are enormous whales that have been tormenting the coast of west Krios for years. They swim up and down the coast, sinking ships, eating all the fish, and killing sharks. Not eating the sharks. Just killing them. Their favorite spot to stay at was nicknamed “Lucifer’s plate,” because of how many shark corpses washed up there. Some believe that castor and pollux are also the children of Leviathan, although others believe they are some of the original children of Tiamat themselves. Castor and pollux seem intelligent, and they often follow certain ships, and even people who escaped them.
More about Krios
Krios is mostly populated in the bay of silver sand, which makes up only a small part of Krios. The rest of Krios is along most of the continent’s west coast, filled with rocky beaches in the south and warm, sandy beaches closer to the middle. Around 3/4 of Krios lives in the bay of silver sand. While the rest live spread across the rest of the territory in small villages, working as blacksmiths, farmers, other such jobs, or aspiring musicians or painters looking to move to Tresis.
and that’s most of Krios!
The Forfærdelig Gås of Gøblenheim
Long ago, in the vast cavern of Gøblenheim, rumors began to spread of a terrible creature, that inflicts misery and mischief for its own amusement, before disappearing without receiving any consequence for its actions.
The feathered fiend began to quickly gain a reputation as a heartless trickster, that enjoyed the suffering of others.
It became known as, the Forfærdelig Gås (Horrible Goose).
Nobody knows where it disappears to, or who it will choose to torment next...
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."
Has anyone else here read the webcomic Kill Six Billion Demons? The lore is really interesting and I'd love to talk about it.
Extended Sig (Now updated!)
11. The weak swordsman clings to his instrument. It is better you have a sword, but death must lie under your fingernails, if need be. Learn death with your elbows, death with your knees, and death with your thumbs and fingertips. It is said death with the tongue is useful, but I find words too soft an instrument to smash a man’s skull.
Alrighty Lorians(?) Loriates(?) Loremakers(?) Whatever, I have decided I am going to make a Tavern Thread set in my Homebrew world of Na Ríochta Scamaill (The Clouded Realms) So I won't be on for a slight bit. So PM me if ya need something. HIgh Seer Vanish
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|
Alrighty my...Lore-people???? Whatever, I have finished my Tavern. So I'm back and if you guys need me to review or look at some lore just say so.
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|
Time for some Lore on my Homebrew World specifically the gods.
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|
Lore!
No mortals have ever witnessed the utter horror that is Harpocrates and remained unchanged. Total, deafening silence that devours all in utter nothingness. The god of Secrets and silence is worshipped only by those who have been blessed by him and need to repay him, as no creature willingly worships the nightmare. His shrines are the underground sewers and crypts refurbished into secret halls of statues and the homes of cultists, filled with utter and divine silence. To break the silence is to disrespect Harpocrates, and so most of the shrines Are under a permanent silence spell.
now, why would anyone be serving Harpocrates, you may ask? Well, it’s because if you invoke his name and his symbol, the rose, and swear to secrecy about something, that secret will never be found out unless Harpocrates specifically wishes so. And creatures sell their souls to him for further protection, such as their whereabouts being hidden from their worst enemy, their secret lover being able to disappear from a nation even when they are being relentlessly hunted down, the location of a secret, world ending item can be forever erased from history, all for the price of your soul. And this is how the silent beast gains power, the souls of thousands who entrusted him with their secrets.
Harpocrates himself can’t be sensed by any means whatsoever, divine or otherwise, so his true form is unknown but rumored to be monstrous and beast like. But his avatars, which he sends to fight or make deals with creatures, are usually in the form of human children or enormous dire wolves with their mouths sewed shut. Their true form and avatars emanate a crushing silence that can physically harm people and that cannot be broken by anything short of an Overgod or the most powerful elder evils intervening, and their true form not being able to be broken at all, by any force in existence. This silence prevents Harpocrates from talking, so instead, he communicates using images, which he either draws or simply sends them directly to the target’s mind.
Harpocrates and his followers all smell strongly of roses.