Deep within the realm of Verenthia is a small tavern-like building, inside of the hovel tavern is a dirty and rotten room. The tables are broken and disgusting, the chairs have some legs...key word there: "Some". The lights are shut off allowing the natural Moonlight to flow into the room giving the place an eerie vibe, the smell of the tavern reminds you that of a dying possum- Or, Pretend Dying Possum I suppose. Inside sleeping on the bar top their head resting is a human-like creature, half of their face is rotten and dropping the skin slowly peeling off as the exposed bone ITSELF seems to rot in the atmosphere. After a couple minutes other customers walk into the bar by the truckload, taking seats and sitting at the Bar-top ordering drinks. Some of the customers are undead, some not. The Bar owner wakes up and wipes his brow, taking orders and such.
Welcome to The Boar's Tusk. A Bar set in my newest homebrew world of Verenthia, a world where the line between Hope and Despair is as thin as a razor blade.
Lore of Verenthia
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.
Lore of The Boar's Tusk
The tavern is a dimly lit sanctuary, its walls adorned with faded tapestries and cracked mirrors that reflect the haunted faces of its patrons. The air is thick with the scent of stale ale and damp earth, and the sound of whispered conversations and muffled sobs fills the air.
At the heart of the Forsaken Lantern stands its enigmatic owner, known only as Soren. Once a human of noble birth, Soren's life was forever changed by a dark curse that swept through the city like a plague. Stricken by illness and on the brink of death, Soren made a desperate bargain with forces beyond his understanding, trading his soul for a chance at immortality.
Now, Soren walks the line between life and death as a half-undead being, neither fully alive nor truly dead. His skin is pale as moonlight, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light that seems to pierce the darkness itself. Though his heart still beats with a semblance of life, the chill of the grave clings to him like a shroud.
Soren is a rather nonchalant host. With origins as a noble, when the first wave of undead travelled through the land he was among the first to be converted, he believes he is stuck in a world of perpetual twilight, limbo if you will. Neither alive nor undead. His voice is soft but commanding, his words imbued with a wisdom born of centuries of solitude. Though his words themselves may be slightly pessimistic.
The patrons of the Forsaken Lantern come from all walks of life, each bearing their own scars and secrets. Here, knights rub shoulders with thieves, mages share drinks with mercenaries, and outcasts find refuge amidst the shadows. It is a place where alliances are forged and betrayals whispered, where the line between friend and foe is as thin as a strand of spider silk.
But amidst the despair and decay, there is still a flicker of hope within the Forsaken Lantern. For within its hallowed halls, even the most lost souls can find redemption, and even the darkest shadows can be banished by the light of camaraderie and kinship. And though Soren may never know true peace, he continues to tend the fires of his tavern, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness of Verenthia's night.
Rules
1. No topics discussing Races, Sexualities', or gender can be discussed here.
2. Gore is expected in this world, so be free to go all out with it at some points.
3. PG-13, While Gore is around, other topics may not be discussed in the forum. Please take it to the PM's thank you.
4. Combat is allowed outside the bar.
5. If you wish to have a event happen to your character or the bar itself contact Mods: TheFinalLoreMaker (Me.)
Have fun in Verenthia! Population: 1274 Alive, 2315 Undead.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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!
Deep within the realm of Verenthia is a small tavern-like building, inside of the hovel tavern is a dirty and rotten room. The tables are broken and disgusting, the chairs have some legs...key word there: "Some". The lights are shut off allowing the natural Moonlight to flow into the room giving the place an eerie vibe, the smell of the tavern reminds you that of a dying possum- Or, Pretend Dying Possum I suppose. Inside sleeping on the bar top their head resting is a human-like creature, half of their face is rotten and dropping the skin slowly peeling off as the exposed bone ITSELF seems to rot in the atmosphere. After a couple minutes other customers walk into the bar by the truckload, taking seats and sitting at the Bar-top ordering drinks. Some of the customers are undead, some not. The Bar owner wakes up and wipes his brow, taking orders and such.
Welcome to The Boar's Tusk. A Bar set in my newest homebrew world of Verenthia, a world where the line between Hope and Despair is as thin as a razor blade.
Lore of Verenthia
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.
Lore of The Boar's Tusk
Rules
1. No topics discussing Races, Sexualities', or gender can be discussed here.
2. Gore is expected in this world, so be free to go all out with it at some points.
3. PG-13, While Gore is around, other topics may not be discussed in the forum. Please take it to the PM's thank you.
4. Combat is allowed outside the bar.
5. If you wish to have a event happen to your character or the bar itself contact Mods: TheFinalLoreMaker (Me.)
Have fun in Verenthia! Population: 1274 Alive, 2315 Undead.
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|
*Cool. I'll try to think of a char here. Hopefully this tavern doesn't die like your other ones*
I am a Star Wars nerd who is obsessed with roleplay, sci-fi, and brutal murder.
Pronouns he/him. PM me the word tomato 🍅 or the word Banana 🍌
I am an Unstrikable Warrior, as drummer dictated. Do not waste your energy in attempts to strike me, for it will fail.
I am a knight of the fallen order, an undying saviour, a defeater of tyrants and a bane of evil.