The Lore of
Gods, Gold, & Goblins
When they’d speak of that night, they’d say that the Lord of Storms had learned to walk on land. That the clouds swelled black above the Windweather, that the night drew fast, and the wise abandoned their flocks in the valley and fled to their hovels in the hills.
But what often goes unsaid about the wise is that the wise watch the world turn from afar, letting the deeds of the gods unfold without interruption. The wise call it fate. But while the wise settle for fate, fools dare defy it. It’s the actions of fools that shape the tides of history.
The History of Midia
“But, you don’t really know. You think ya know because you read it, or some drunk Sanc in a tavern told you once, but you don’t. And you don’t know Midia. In Midia, its when you think ya know something that you get righteously fucked! When you think you know something, something you don’t know crawls out of the dark and bites the end of your dick off. So with that in mind, when I say heed your sword, Pisser, you’d best heed your sword.” – Chugg, of Clan Kor
The Daybreak Tribes
??? – Circa 900 years BCE
From the Pages of Midia Historica
The lowlands were once a country of undecorated culture.
There was a time when the gardens of Kyrzia basked in Azhora’s light and sipped deeply from the glacial drink that flowed from the peaks of Mount Sorrow. The red earth nurtured a mosaic of life, blessed by the breath of Trolgo’s furnace at the cradle of Midia’s creation. When the days were long and the sun traipsed across the sky, crops of lionflowers swayed on the land. Fields of corn ran golden fingers through the clouds, surveyed by diligent sparrows carried aloft on brisk breezes. Beguiling dragonflies darted between the rows that fed Kyrzian armies, beating their wings to the electric hum of the cicada’s chorus.
The children of this paradise worshipped the soil beneath their toes, finding meaning in its cultivation and a dutiful joy in the works of their hands. The coming of the summer welcomed hazy pagan feasts, piled fat with berries, butter, and meat, wild honey and toasted cakes– where young maidens dressed in every colour known to the eye, and wildflower meads burst from barrels like the springs of The Windweather.
Village priests gave thanks to Feldwyn, The Grower, for abundant harvests, as edelmenn of every village– from Tilln to Legion Hill– held conference over the business of the valley. They conferred for days, determining the marriages of sons and daughters, and sealing matters of trade that maintained fair relations between families.
The Crusade of Blood
Circa 900 years BCE
As Told by Maegellius, Exile of the Abyssal Order
Ah, The Unification. Not a day went by that he did not hear of Itar’s great conquest of the Daybreak Tribes referenced in the courts of Northwatch. The more he learned of it, the more he understood it to be nothing more than a mass killing.
The truth was, Itar was a genocidal tyrant, who conquered the Daybreak Tribes and consumed their georgic religions like a priest consumed wine and sausages. Northwatch was believed to be built upon his final resting place, the Holy Gardens an idealization of his hallowed grave site.
As Told by Isrelda Skansa, Mother of Whispers
“Itar the Conqueror– the Warlord of Kyrzia. He subjugated the tribes of the north long before Midia even had a name– we know his campaign now only as the Crusade of Blood. The cult that was born from his death reigned for centuries as the dominant religion in Midia.”
“A cult, you say?” Chugg snickered. Isi chose not to react.
Forgive him Master. This predictable buffoon just can’t help himself.
The Dark Wars
403 years BCE
As remembered by Valeryia von Helgrav, High Countess of the Kyrzian Domain
West Reach, and its troubles with its Kharza Gül neighbours had always seemed a distant trifle– wars destined to conclude within a season. The Western king’s campaigns to rout the Kharza Gül was always been like a bread maker’s plight of keeping rats from his storeroom — routine and predictable.
But when Seahold fell, the king turned to his allies for help to fend off the Kharza Gül aggression that had arrived at his doorstep. The wild folk The Horn were the first to answer, followed swiftly by the clans of Gat Thallum who revelled at any opportunity for conquest. With his age-old allies engaged, my lord had little choice but to pledge his sword.
The Kharza Gül continued to pour from The Dredge Sea like bad blood gushing from a fatal wound, and reports from the war front grew dismal—then went silent.
As witnessed by lady General Tarsk, Champion of Kyrzia
“So we were marched into that bedevilled swamp. Within the first week we knew that poisoned land was out to kill us. If it wasn’t the blood suckers and swamp sickness, it was the wet heat that wore the men down before we even crossed swords with the enemy. At night, a chorus of insects and toads left every man sleepless. With a maddening itch from the suckers and the constant fear of ambush, even our bravest found themselves screaming in the night, or running off like whimpering pups into the bogs.”
In war, it was always the people who suffered the most, and judging by the general’s account of this one, suffer the people did.
“The worst mistake we made was letting the black-bloods lure us into their holes. It was such a desolate situation in those tunnels, some of the men began calling it the ‘Dark War’.
The Great Doom
398 years BCE
As Told by Chugg of Clan Kor
“The Dark Wars changed everything. When the goblins reached Gat Thallum, they brought the wrath of Cinderhead down on the clans’ heads while they slept. Their way of life was swallowed by flames in a single night. Cinderhead’s fiery blood spills to this day, while our land chokes beneath its angry smoke.”
“The Great Doom…” Isi’s ominous voice was like a spirit in the night.
The Fall of the Kyrzian Domain
398 years bce
As Witnessed by Maegellius, Exile of the Abyssal Order
A swarm of black-bloods choked the hold of Northwatch like a madman closing his fingers around his victim’s neck. A great army of the Karza Gül amassed around the lonely tower, its hordes slithering between the deeply rooted pines, aspiring to swallow the sun whole with the acrid smoke of war. The advancing terrors deranged the cliff sides with their cackles and chants, mingling with the brays of their scabbed helcats and hulking siege beasts.
It was through a narrow slit in the wall that Maegellius watched the swelling mass undulate. Its black lung rose and fell across the crystal slopes of Mt. Sorrow, casting the skies black with carrion birds and arsine reek. The invaders’ thundering chants and croaking horns made the hairs on his neck stiffen like the bristles of an urchin.
When he’d first been exiled to the Kyrzian Domain, he knew life wouldn’t be easy, but he always thought it would be the cold that did him in, not a screaming hoard of swamp demons.
The Extinction of the Goblins
397 years bce
As told by Allistar of Sawdust Alley to Chugg, Clan Kor
“If this was several hundred years ago I’d be right there behind you Chugg, sword drawn, ready to hunt me some goblins.” He resisted the urge to smirk. It was becoming increasingly obvious that these Craglands Chugg hailed from were a place where myth and superstition still thrived. “You might not have noticed but goblins aren’t exactly a threat anymore, on account that they were wiped clean from the map by the end of the wars.”
Founding of the Colonies & the Domination of West Reach
397 years bce
As told by Chugg, Clan Kor
“Then the war ended. Our kingdom had a great wound to heal, with its scars bubbling beneath our very feet. It was about that time that the ships from the West came to our shores — carrying the men we died to defend. But instead of pulling us from the edge, they raped and pillaged us while we were down, before they carved their ‘Sanctum’ from the only lands that weren’t already burned to ash.”
As told by Isrelda Skansa, Mother of Whispers
“A formidable alliance of northern tribes, The Craglands once were, shattered by an old war. Now they say that for every craglander wandering aloof in Midia, there’s a barkeep, a smithy, and grave digger with steady work.”
“You speak from experience?”
“I was born in the colonies. Sanctum is a neighbour to Chugg’s territory, or rather, carved from it. The Dark War decimated much of Chugg’s land, and West Reach took the rest. It probably explains why they’re so…unruly.”
Allistair puffed his chest. “It sounds like they have a few reasons to be upset.”
“Well, don’t get too attached to him. Nerull has an affinity for summoning craglanders into his fold, especially while they’re still young.”
The Fading of Midia
397-205 years bce
From the pages of Midia Historica
When the season waned, the colours of the valley dimmed like exhausted coals. Long nights chased the sun beyond the mountain peaks where it would sleep for half the year. Heartless winds from The Horn brought blankets of snow that covering the land in a vast, untouched shroud. But the people of the earth carried the warmth of summer inside them. They celebrated the passing of the light with blazing pyres that dazzled the barren expanse with twinkling stars. They supped beneath the moon, carrying on glowing feasts of wild ruckstag, sweet yams, and butter-fried dough, followed with mirthful tales of giants, witches, and Lika, the Queen of Bears.
But time is a lazy caretaker.
When the throne of Northwatch relinquished its rule of the Kyrzian Domain the ways of the lowlands quickly faded. Within a generation, sons and daughters of the land began to seek new ways in the swelling cities of the north, leaving the fields of their mothers and fathers to whither and dry. The Karstwood began its hungry campaign down the Northern Ridges and the red earth soon gave way to the rule of root and tree. Beasts of the wild took up domain among the hollows, while cutthroats, renegades, and outcasts sharpened their daggers from within the forgotten farmsteads, away from the watchful eyes of Riverguard patrols and royal wayrangers.
The lowlands were once a country of undecorated culture. But it had returned to the wild.
The Gilded Heirs Emerge
205 years bce
As understood by Allistair of Sawdust Alley
The oligarchs of Westreach, known by the envious as the Gilded Heirs, were a ruling circle of lords, magnates, and gangsters that had amassed unfathomable wealth from the enterprises that followed the Dark Wars. Though the King was the sovereign ruler of Westreach, he was but one of the handful that determined the grand affairs of his dominion. They were a cabal of sadists, perverts, and drunks, poisoned by money and power, and detached from the struggles that others called everyday life.
The Lord of Tombstones Rises
205-155 years bce
As told by Ardic Mercenaries at the walls of rivermark
“My old man used to say he saw a bone-man in a cage at the Skaaldar Night Market when he was a boy. Even then, old men were telling tales of the Lord of Tombstones and his plague around this city. What else, other than an unhealthy does of death magick, could make a musty bastard suddenly rise from his tomb after a thousand years of sleep?”
Astrid leaned on the doorframe, both thumbs resting on her belt. “So what does a hundred-year-old wizard want with river scum and gull shit?”
“When you’re so vile that even hell doesn’t want ya, where else do you go? They say he’s building an army to take back his place in the otherworld and overturn the demons who cast him out.”
The toothless one looked up from her pieces, her bangs cutting a devilish line across her eyes. “A stray bone-man at the wall is nothing new to Rivermark. But an all out siege? That is something to worry about. It’s fresh soldiers he’s after, and this city’s got plenty of bodies for him to snatch. The Lord of Tombstones is preparing for something, but I can’t put my finger on what.”
The Taming of the Saltwind Seas
35-20 years bce
As told by NJall No-One, Hermit of the Karstwood
“Your father and I were just boys when we left the Diamond Coast to prove our mettle. Zalkan pirates infested our waters in those days, and Torb knew that purging the Saltwind Seas was a feat fit for a future king. I sailed with him for many months, decorating the seabed with hulls, fattening the kraken with pirate corpses.”
Midia Today
As told by captain rigg of the Yesterday’s Fortune
“Given the current goings-on in these parts, superstition has gotten the best of us all.”
Allistair was certain there was a mistake. “What happened to boring old Midia? What’s got you so spooked?” He managed to spit it all out in one breath.
“I often forget how little of the world’s news actually makes it to Westreach.” Rigg counted his long, bony fingers in dramatic fashion. “There’s the siege on Rivermark to start. Then there’s the usual bloody nonsense between the colonies and The Craglands that never seems to end. But it’s these rumours of a necromancer enslaving the countryside that has them more skittish than an over-fed bishop on a crowded life raft.”
The story continues from here in Gods, Gold, & Goblins…
Civilizations
Of Midia & The Crownlands
Within lay a vast table engraved with designs. Allistair ran his fingertips across its surface, grazing deep grooves and irregular ridges that traversed the table like veins and muscles coursing a dissected body.
“It’s a map.” Allistair’s wonder feasted on what he’d uncovered.
It depicted much of the known world– from as far west as Sanctum and as south as The Jewel and the impassable cliffs beyond. It showed every hamlet, wood and road in between, all carved from a single slab of redwood.
“Incredible.” Allistair’s eyes wandered across the shadowy map, drinking in every detail of its world.
North-West – The Diamond Coast
The Ards
as observed on foreign shores by Astrid Sundershield, ardic princess
The Fishbones was decorated in the manner of the Diamond Coast, with vibrant trim and high rafters built of timber salvaged from the masts of guide ships. The walls were adorned with scenes of the north: the Great Horn, the flowery hills around Borgenhall in the spring, and an idyllic view of the Sunderkeep seen from the Wulfwood. The crests of forgotten houses were proudly displayed above the roaring mantle: Runehair, Saltbraide, Tallgallow– houses that succumbed to the wars in the south. They’d been lost for generations now, the souls of their warriors languishing in the nether. Astrid felt a keen yearning for home, but marveled at the effort the innkeeper made to keep their culture alive with him in this shithole of a city, at the peril of his own spirit.
An ard could recognize another by certain commonalities; memories of frostbite on the ears, nose, and fingers, scars of battle worn with pride, a hardness in the eyes – a sign of whatever ghosts they may be carrying with them. Astrid recognized her own in this room, though they were beaten down and wrecked by dishonour. She hated to see what time away from The Coast had done to these once proud northern warriors.
North – The Craglands
The Craglanders
As described by Isrelda Skansa, Mother of Whispers
“The path that Nerull places before us is a winding one. There is no saying where it might end, or who you might share it with. A craglander, for instance, is an unexpected choice for a companion.”
“Craglander?” Allistair spoke through a mealy mouthful of apple. “You mean Chugg?
Chugg was biting into a dry oatcake smothered in roasted stumpshrooms. A morsel dangled from his chin as he absently watched the moon rise.
“He’s as typical a craglander as you’ll ever meet, but I imagine you don’t meet many Children of Bogan in West Reach.”
“I suppose you’re right.” The fire crackled, sending a flurry of sparks into the air.
“A formidable alliance of northern tribes, The Craglands once were, shattered by an old war. Now they say that for every craglander wandering aloof in Midia, there’s a barkeep, a smithy, and grave digger with steady work.”
“You speak from experience?”
“I was born in the colonies. Sanctum is a neighbour to Chugg’s territory, or rather, carved from it. The Dark War decimated much of Chugg’s land, and West Reach took the rest. It probably explains why they’re so…unruly.”
Allistair puffed his chest. “It sounds like they have a few reasons to be upset.”
“Well, don’t get too attached to him. Nerull has an affinity for summoning craglanders into his fold, especially while they’re still young.”
“Seems like Chugg knows how to take care of himself.”
“You saw how he fought that monster. Did he strike you as one with something to lose?”
North East – Sanctum
The Colonies
As described by Isrelda Skansa, remembering home
“I have dedicated half of my life to spreading the Whisper of Nerull across this land. I’ve been chased out of villages, almost murdered by the people I sought to save. At first it was easy to face such things, for the light in my heart was new and Nerull’s signs were clear and abundant. When things were at their darkest, I had memories of my home to keep me alive; the silence of my father’s library, the smell of whaleoil lamps on a summer night.”
“It was a hot summer, I remember that well. Craglanders had been raiding the mines around Sallasport since the ice floes left the channel.”
With craglanders driving forth from The Shard like feral beasts, masterless and unfettered. That summer they marked the green-grey hills around Sallasport with many new gravestones.
Such attacks meant that the healing houses were bursting with those fortunate enough to survive. Even then, Isi tended to her duties as a healer. From such a place it was her duty to comfort the pain of others, and save anyone she could with the healing crafts she had studied. She was yet unaware of the divine burden that would be thrust upon her, and the pains she would come to own like scars.
These were memories she could no longer afford to leave to the past.