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Aun þemmem aaða uns þemmaa, miredest hela þerkem et bed hresta Jakla. Jaklem aunooðest haufhijsa er-eþerrarsz hrimet. Et kuijnem serðedest klijre et haufihijsa om sernauðedest þijem fehraadana a alijk et þerkeijsz aun et kuijnhijs. Et ert þerkem þaledest a oveta kuijnr benedest zoem huafetsr, Jorikem. Þijem benedest langalt om werþedest læhr sveer stometjema om skuij jestaasz. Þijn sweæm neemedest Bloeðau rijk mieþeijsz okem tennedest.
On Mer, magic is harnessed through communion with the plane of Eternity. There reside the souls of all mortal creatures, rational or instinctive. Rational souls include humans, elves, dwarves, and any other species with advanced consciousness. Instinctive souls include all animals and beasts as well as some highly advanced flora. These two categories of soul formed the two main branches of magic practiced on Mer, Channeling and Echoing. Channeling involves the routing of rational soul energy through a specific ethereal plane to bestow certain attributes upon it. Depending on the attributes of the energy, a mage will be able to cast different spells with it. Echoing magic involves invoking the instinctive soul of a particular species, harnessing the essence of the animal to cast spells that reflect it. There is also a third branch of magic which relies on souls not found in Eternity but in the Plains of Damnation. To end up there, one must have their soul banished, an act which requires a mage to perform a ceremony on the corpse of someone recently murdered. The goal of the ceremony was to intercept the victim’s soul on their way to Eternity, binding them to the Plains of Damnation instead. This third branch of dark magic is known as Binding Magic. It relies on exploiting the entirety of an enslaved soul to summon powerful magic, destroying the soul in the process.
The goddess Spyra reigns over the Plains and Eternity. She oversees the divide between the two realms, ensuring that those damned souls remain in the Plains. Mages wishing to enhance their abilities will dedicate their religious patronage to her. Mages tend to spend much of their time in meditation or performing research. To bolster their magical abilities, they meditate on the energy of Eternity, focusing on drawing it out and filling themselves with it. Casting a spell involves invoking this energy, channeling it through concerted mental effort. Easier spells involve less mental effort on behalf of the caster while more difficult spells can often require hundreds of hours of meditation. Mages gifted enough in meditation can store enough energy within them to cast mind-bending feats of magic. It is said that a great wielder of magic who lived far back in the ages of The Dark tore the tops off of an entire mountain range with one thunderous clap, forming the mountain range bearing the quite literal name of The Broken Peaks.[1] He would have only been able to do this following years of concerted effort and meditation, all for this one moment. Great mages can often be measured by a matter of their patience rather than their skill in execution. Magic is attainable by all beings with rational souls through study and discipline. Children will often show a propensity for the magical arts through communication with animals, a school of echoing magic. One should not think that this communication is any form of speech but more of an innate understanding of the animal’s instinctual thoughts. Those who study this school of magic into their adulthood can form bonds so strong with an animal that they can mimic speech in the complexity of their understanding.[2] Those children particularly gifted in magic can go to specialized schools starting at 14 and graduating at 25 years old. These graduated mages could either go directly back into the educational system as professors, be employed by a court or by a wealthy freeman from across the land, or pursue their own ambitions. Applications of each type of magic can be as varied as the wielder. Some common spells are easily recreated in near-perfect synonymy with another person’s casting, however, as the magic becomes more complex so does the expression of individuality. One interesting expression of this was in flame spells, closely analyzing the flickers and tongues of the fire to ascertain who the caster may be. A person’s flame spell can be seen almost as a signature or family crest. Not only would they hold a determiner of their caster, but flames could also encode messages easily distinguishable by Flame Scribes[3] who dedicate their life to the study of the expressions of meaning through fire. Flame Scribes would also spend much time in contemplation and study of natural flames not tainted by magic to acquire whatever deep knowledge of nature they could extract. Flame Scribes were not the only group dedicated to this detailed study of magic, other groups across Mer spent their entire existence devoted to every conceivable aspect of magic. [1] This story may not be true as this would be the single most powerful recorded use of magic in history. Their name has not survived the great divide in time, but the legend of their supposed deed lives on as the only evidence of this mage’s existence. It is unlikely that such a powerful being would have gone completely unattested throughout history in other legends or myths. [2] The famously long-living mage Mychael Galador held a bond with his dog Maria, more often called Mitzi, so strong and for so long that they were able to communicate in a manner identical to human speech. They reached this point due to the magic Mychael had harnessed to keep them both alive for well over 300 years. Mitzi was his first dog and in her old age, he set about learning the mysterious art of Soul Incorporation to extend both of their lifespans far beyond their natural limits. He succeeded at the age of 27 when Mitzi was an already old age of 18 years. [3] Flame Scribes were the most sought-after courtiers in every noble’s household across Mer. Their ability to send and receive messages only discernable by other Flame Sribes made them useful for communicating with more security and anonymity. Wages for these mages could rival that of esteemed professors and Aehlitian provincial senators. A Travelogue of the City of Oostau(/ɔːstʌu/) c. 640 S.E. by Aethelwis Godwinson We arrived at the grand city of Oostau, capital of the county bearing the same name, in the winter of 639 S.E. Armed with our travel documents stating our purpose of creating a travel narrative for our benefactor, the Professor Aewin Edmundson, we approached the River Gate shortly after noon. It was a long journey upriver from the sea, winds were favorable for only a short time and for the rest, the crew resorted to pulling the ship along with ropes from shore. Thus, the tall, lime-washed walls of Oostau were a welcome site to our exhausted crew, who came back aboard and allowed the city guard to take over the process of entering the inner port.
Oostau should be noted for its unique port layout, as it may confuse travelers used to more traditional Aehlitian ports, even those from farther flung reaches of Saetia find themselves thrown off by its unique design. There are two main ports in Oostau, the first being the Outer Docks and the second being Lord’s Landing. Most travelers to the city will likely be destined for the Outer Docks, disembarking and then entering the city through the Westfall Gate, a splendid second-century F.E. reconstruction of the earlier Great Western Gate. Our journey had us destined for Lord’s Landing however, as our benefactor had so generously arranged to have the allotted toll of five overmarcs and accompanying paperwork with us; certainly, a steep price compared to the two-penny toll levied on those landing at the outer docks. (5 overmarcs = 750 pennies) One would expect some degree of luxury for such a price, and our hosts certainly delivered in that regard. As stated, upon our approach, one of our crewmen presented the documents to a local guard, who summoned a cohort of some forty laborers who took over the guiding of our vessel into port. Ten joined us aboard the ship with long poles which they used to maneuver around the breakwaters which protected Oostau harbor. When we got close to the River Gate one of the men sounded a large horn three times with a deep long tone and we then heard a long shrill responding note from up on the wall. Upon finishing, the portcullis ahead of us shuddered to life and began rising from the water. Lord’s Landing is a fully enclosed port, surrounded by a massive defensive wall. Separating the world outside from the world within is the extravagant Rivermail Portcullis. The gate is made of an iron core encased in bronze to protect from corrosion and is reported to have cost approximately ten king’s-guild (roughly 200 times the yearly wages of a local guard). Beautifully detailed bronze seaweed intertwines itself through the bars; it was named Rivermail because of this tightly woven pattern. At its lowest point, sea plants and barnacles clung on for dear life as the great metal structure lifted from the water. As our ship passed underneath, water showered down on us from above, almost as if it were cleansing us of the outside world. When we finally settled into port, we were greeted by the Chancellor of the City, Otto Ubbing. A great company of retainers accompanied him, it seemed that word of our arrival had been spread amongst the intelligentsia of the city. We had a short but polite conversation with the Chancellor, he graciously welcomed us to Oostau and told us to reach out to him with any concerns during our stay. He then absconded with his staff back to attend to the matters of delicate Saetian politics. Those members of the town elite who held university educations descended on us after the Chancellor took his leave, eager to guide us around the city, possibly out of generosity but more likely out of a desire for glory. Unfortunately for these men and women, none of their names shall go recorded in this account as we had already arraigned to meet a certain Eðric de Oostau, cousin to the Count and professor of Military Planning at the Royal Saetian Libraries. He had come into town for the wedding of his niece a few weeks prior and was kind enough to stay to be our tour guide throughout the city. Sure enough, it was not long before we saw a group of twelve guards draped in the white and blue colors of the city surrounding Eðric and marching their way down the staircase from the Council District to the docks. As they got closer, the synchronized clank of the men’s boots against the limestone dock formed a rhythm that could have been mistaken for a war drum. This was the first display of the warlike nature of the Saetians, an attribute that will become more apparent to the reader as our visit goes on. Eðric emerged from within his personal guard and greeted us with the warmth of a dear friend, though we had only corresponded briefly through letters. This hospitality was something that the northern reaches of Saetia are famous for, owing to their proximity to the dwarves who inhabit the Broken Peaks in the west and the resulting focus on diplomacy that it fostered. Lord’s Landing was a marvel of maritime construction, having man-powered cranes integrated into the foundations of the dock structure for easier movement of cargo. When a ship came in that needed repairs, several well-equipped shipwrights could turn around a ship in record time, no matter the weather. Any stenches that one would come to expect from a regular dockyard were replaced by those of exotic spices and perfumes from faraway lands. More than a few ships in port must have belonged to nobles of some description as their gilded woodwork caught the light reflecting off the white limestone façade of the docks. To justify the expensive toll and to accommodate the most discerning travelers, the walls of the docks were carved with aquatic scenes from Saetian mythology. There was also reportedly a priest of Dwyr stationed at the Landing whose sole purpose was to bless the ships in port. Eðric guided us through the dockyard, showing us the headquarters for the Guild of Shipwrights and the Merchants Guild. Both buildings were built from the same limestone as the dock itself, but the comparative wealth of the Merchants Guild could be seen in the complexity of its adornments. Statues of prestigious and influential Oostauners lined the exterior, seated atop massive pedestals bearing their names and achievements. In between these statues were ionic columns carved from red marble and gilded with delicate patterns of ivy. Walking by the entrance, we saw the colossal bronze door that guarded the riches inside. Unfortunately, we were not allowed entry, as only guild members could gain access. Moving on we also passed by the much more modest, but just as massive Rope Makers guild, a rarity in cities so far inland. They were able to expand so much due to the large amount of hemp grown in the region and because of Oostau’s strong relationship with seal hunters in Medden Bay, providing them with the raw materials for high-quality ropes and chord that were sold to the guild of Shipwrights. Vothr, or Wothar, is the bastard son of Finri and a human woman who lived long before the Dark began. Her name has been lost to time, but she is survived by a small cult known as the Midwives of the Enflamed who provide protection and aid to single mothers and widows. According to legend, upon Vothr’s birth, Finri was so enraged, as he had not been told of the pregnancy, that when he felt the presence of his son on Mer, he sent down a great conflagration that engulfed the entire town that Vothr was in at the time. Vothr, being the son of the god of fire, was spared from this slaughter and was quickly after taken in by Spyra. Being the goddess of spirituality, she was made aware of Vothr’s situation when the souls of the victims in his village came pouring into her realm. Spyra decided to foster the motherless child, sending patrons of her temple to retrieve the baby and care for him until his 13th year. At the age of 13, Spyra made herself visible to Vothr in a form which only he as part-godly would have been able to withstand and shared with him the story of his origins. Enraged at his father for the slaughter of hundreds of innocent people over his birth, Vothr set out in his mortal life to protect those he deemed as unable to fight for themselves. It was this mission that would lead to the end of his life on Mer. In the opening years of what would become known as the Dark, Vothr made his way into battle against a force of mages who sought to enslave a small village under their spell.
Children of the various Merric gods have been born and died but few have risen to godhood in their own right, Vothr being one of the best examples. After a battle against the cohort of fifty mages, he was slain by a great confluence of ancient magic, and the mages banished his soul to the Plains of Damnation. His soul, now in the hands of the goddess who saved him as a child, was guided through the Plains. He was led to the interloper demon Fhaerir who had established dominion over the Plains. The mortals of Mer had felt the events of the Great Usurpation, all connection to the souls of their ancestors was cut off for over a decade. Fhaerir had cut off Eternity from the mortal plane by enslaving the population of the Plains of Damnation, using their energy to erect a great barrier between the two worlds. Spyra helped Vothr as well as she could on his journey to meet Fhaerir, who had sent his minions to intercept him. Armed with Spyra’s blade, Soul Cleaver, Vothr carved his way effortlessly through the hordes of men who stood in his way. The path of bodies left in his wake over time fell away into bones and now serves as a pilgrimage path for those whose souls are sent to the Plains. When Vothr finally met Fhaerir, the two locked into fierce combat. The reverberations of their actions in the Plains were so great that the dead began to rise on Mer as Fhaerir’s control over their souls was loosened. When Vothr landed his final blow into Fhaerir’s skull, shattering Soul Cleaver in the process, all the souls under his control were released. They flooded back into Mer, reanimating their corpses for a very brief time until Spyra was able to return, regaining control over her ethereal plane and putting the mortal dead back to rest. The tip of Soul Cleaver was lost when the blade shattered in two, the base of the blade remaining in Vothr’s hand. Fhaerir’s black blood seeped into the steel, imbuing it with the power to destroy one’s soul eternally, banishing them from all ethereal planes and Eternity, leaving them to wander the Void forever. In 625 of the First Era, the tip of SoulCleaver appeared on Mer in the hands of a mage who claimed to have traveled to the Plains of Damnation and returned with it. The blade certainly matched the description of Soul Cleaver as it was following the death of Fhaerir. Even though it was modified to fit the form of a dagger, the blade had the tell-tale marks of black lines in a sharp crystalline pattern, and it was unnaturally light for a dagger of its size. It wasn’t until it was used in an attempt to kill a rival of this mysterious mage that its veracity was proven when Spyra’s aspect came down and attacked him with a violent fury. The mage’s rival, a scholar named Aldouis, picked up the dagger and pledged to Spyra’s aspect that the dagger would never be used to kill, upon which time Spya grabbed it from his hands and landed the final blow on the mage. Aldouis pledged to erect a temple in Spyra’s honor for saving his life. There he would dedicate his life to serving the dead, constructing vast catacombs to house the unknown dead of the Aehlitian Empire. His cult of the newly renamed BloodBlade grew quickly and would eventually take on duties in all corners of the empire, overseeing the burying of all dead, and reshaping burial practices in the process. For his dedication Spyra granted upon Aldouis a form of eternal life on Mer. When he passed his spirit would remain tied to Mer, communicable with by his successor to the High Priest of the BloodBlade. When they died, their spirit would join Aldouis’ and so on with every successive High Priest. Eventually, a great tower was constructed where the High Priests would live, spending their entire life in communion with their predecessors. A group of priests known as the Grave Keepers served just underneath the High Priest and would be the first to be given wisdom received from the High Priests of old. Ironically the cult of the BloodBlade is at odds with Vothr, who wishes to reunite the pieces of Soul Cleaver. It was only for the protection of Vothr’s adoptive mother, Spyra, that there was no conflict between the two. There was, however, a rival cult of Vothr, whose popularity gave way over time to the more mainstream worship of the god, who sought to destroy the cult of the BloodBlade and present Vothr with the dagger to reunite Soul Cleaver. The two groups eventually came to a head when the Vothr cultists stormed the Blood Blade tower to attempt to steal the dagger. In an unexpected move, Vothr came down from the Plains of Damnation to ward off the intruders. While he similarly desired to reunite his legendary sword, he saw the desecration of a temple to his mother as unforgivable. In only a few short moments he struck down every one of the men that had dedicated their lives to his worship, sending them all to the Void. Introduction to Alchemy and Basic Health Salve:
The practice of alchemy by the inhabitants of Mer is attempted by many but perfected by few. It is steeped in mystery, and its teaching is strictly forbidden in many of the kingdoms and empires of Mer. Practical, at-home alchemy, such as simple salves, ointments, and treatments for minor diseases or injuries, is quite common, and these treatments can be purchased or made with relative ease anywhere on the continent. It is only when someone begins experimenting with more complex concoctions that people run into significant difficulties in both ingredient acquisition and understanding how to create them. Alchemical practices, when recorded, are notoriously vague in description, even when the actual parameters for safely creating the concoctions are quite strict. To perfect a particular brew, often hundreds of iterations are needed before the intended effect can be reproduced, the intermediate brews often having life-threatening or otherwise dangerous side effects that make testing them a perilous endeavor. Basic Health Salve: Creates a salve which, when spread over an infection or mild laceration, will heal the afflicted area within a few hours. Ingredients:
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