Just 2 sans (oh, pun.) on some thoughts that occurred to me;

Changing up the currency seems to me like a big but not insurmountable task; I'm with Talia on not shutting it down on principle, and that to integrate Lysarian properly a change of some sort could be viable.

One key factor that needs to be discussed in context is the actual minting of the coins. We're throwing out complex designs, 10 sided mithral coins, and facial details that reflect a high level of craftsmanship; enough that the difference can be recognized between various Santharian celebrities who are not necessarily known widely province to province! And this is all done purportedly without magic. I'm going to go off on a tangent, if you'll pardon me. Minting coins coins throughout the Terran world gave rise to a variety of methods. Hammered coins were made with something called a die, which is a piece of metal that had the inverse image of the coin on it.  Flat pieces of metal were placed between 2 of these, and a coin was hammered out, and then through various metalworking techniques honed down to a roughly circular shape. These dies could be used for roughly 1000 coins before breaking and needing replacement. At least until the waterwheel and Mills, this was the common method in Europe. Once milled coins arrived they could be made more perfectly rounded. In Asia, they used use Coin casts. or molds; pour heated metal into mold, let it cool, out pops your coins.

We would need to borrow/combine/define a method for minting our Santharian coins, specifically with such intricate faces. Perhaps Lysarian is responsible for changing this method from say, using Dies, to instead using a Mill (we've had waterwheels since 5,000 b.S. according to the entry?!?! that's a long time to have mechanical power sitting around with no more advanced development. It was invented around the year 0 by the Greeks/Romans. We've had it for 2100 years, the Santharians for 6500. Ummmmmm.... the humans in Santharia seem a bit slow ), or maybe Lysarian decides to have coins minted using Coin Casts. Or maybe we get a new method entirely! Maybe we can get away with saying that the method is secret to protect it from forgeries. I don't know, and I know I'm drawing a lot of comparisons to Earth and I don't want to imply that we HAVE to follow the same steps in Santharia as the Ancient Greeks through the Middle Ages did. Nevertheless, we need some type of methodology, IMHO.


On the issue of the bards, I have to agree with Talia to some extent that it seems strange to have bards/artists be cast on the coins; especially local ones. Truthfully, someone living in Thalambath will have likely never heard of a local or even provincially-known figure or hero up in Carmalad. And yet, if coins are minted in Carmalad, some will EVENTUALLY circulate to Thalambath. If I was a commoner living there, and I saw the face of some unknown lady on the back of my San, I'd throw it out as being a fake. I'm not sure that minting coins in ever-smaller subdivisions of the kingdom is the right answer, and that perhaps a "Treasury" of sorts in Santhala is the right answer. More standardized coin faces, less confusion, less local-ness. I'm all for the Goldhead and the Goldsan; everyone using such valued coins can be expected to recognize those faces. I'm even comfy with the Silverbard with Judy's lovely face. Where I struggle is with the "local celebrity" or "local duke" of some of the other coins. What about just, say, the coat of arms of the capital of the province or something, if it wasn't minted in Santhala? I'm not sure I'm dead beat tired and I'm just spitballing here, but it seems like we have a lot of face-design options.


Of course, this is all contingent on the fact that certain practicality issues, require an overhaul of Judy's entry, as I see it. Not something I ever like supporting.  

It is a sticky situation, and hopefully I've successfully made it even MORE complicated!  



EDIT: Something tells me this will be somewhat incoherent. I'm so tired my eyelids are barely open, I'll try and be clearer tmrrw.

Haha seeing the quote in your signature, I guess you know all about Drizzt. :p


A new direction sounds good to me!

Just a random thought, but I was reading through the Moh-Sys entry (if it can even be called that; very short!) and it was VERY reminiscent, for me, of the Driders of Toril, and the Drow society of Menzoberranzan made famous by R.A. Salvatore's Legend of Drizzt. Just a thought, that could be a source of inspiration for you Azhira!

I love it!! I wanna keep it!! 


Now with a picture to go with it, I think this little tempest might  be just about ready!

Having trouble finding seeker's "Treasure Shoals" picture... where is this located?

Hey Dieren!


Couple comments to get you started.

• The overview needs more detail. Start by describing the basics of the disease, what it does, and where it's prevalent. You jump right into saying that it's not contagious, but truthfully I'm not even worried about how contagious it is until I find out WHAT it is!
• Your first symptoms are that the fingers and toes begin to turn hard. If it is essentially a skin disease, (which is all it can be, if it's contracted by just touching this blackstone, right?) then why would all the fingers and toes begin to see effects? why wouldn't it spread from just the skin that touched the stone? Why ALL extremities?
• In the effects, a bit more detail/clarification would be necessary. Again, as a skin disease I don't see how it stops only at the shoulders/knees. Is it hardening the outer layer of skin? Or is it hardening the actual inner muscles and tissue of the hand and arm? As a compendium writer, you would undoubtedly have the chance to examine one of those amputated limbs for these kinds of detail!
• Blackstone - interesting creation here! A couple suggestions. Firstly, it's very (veryveryveryveryveryvery ) unlikely that the stone can be found over ALL of Nybelmar; that's a continent you're talking about, there' s a lot of land there! And a lot of people have specific territories, where a poisonous-oil secreting stone might not be welcome! Be prepared to talk to Coren, Miraran, and Viresse about how exactly it will fit in! Can the oil, once on one's skin, be washed off before one is infected? If not, it seems an awfully risky job to be harvesting this stuff!
• Iferhem elves - Viresse has them described as a warrior-society, low on industry and isolated and unlikely to trade with the outside world. In my opinion, they don't sound like the type that would start harvesting, cleaning, and selling jewelry. Why would they mine this stuff in the first place?
• Maren Nybeth- why this body of water? If all that's needed is a salt sea, seems like there are a lot of options.
• You say humans and elves are the only races that have contracted it, as they are the only races that wear the jewelry. But why would wearing it matter, if it's already washed? Seems like the only people that would risk contracting it are those who harvested it! Also, if there's any risk that the jewelry could infect one with the disease, who would wear it?

Just some thoughts to get you started off; I love a good skin disease, and  nice stone-skin like this is something we seem to be missing! Good start Dieren, look forward to seeing where this one goes.  


EDIT: In my rush to comment I just noticed that you didn't have the "open for comments" dev icon up. Sorry for jumping the gun on commenting, I'm a little rusty it's been a few years since I've done this. :p

Alrighty, if you're good with it I am too! 

I'm gonna run through it and make sure there's nothing else I want to fix to mesh with all the shenanigans I'm currently working on

You're right, Talia, I likely spoke to flippantly about changing Faugar's work; I appreciate that it's no small thing to ask, and will certainly surrender to your opinion of how the hat plays a role in the work as a whole. At the same time, the reason I take issue with the hat (and the clothing to a lesser extent) is that it doesn't sit well at all with the clothing descriptions and images already existing for the humans along the Mithral Coast. You yourself wrote some of those descriptions, I believe! The hat does not reflect the way I think of their clothing.

Then again, that's my opinion. Seeing as you and Arti came up with most of those descriptions, if you guys agree that the hat is a non-issue and Faugar's work is fine as it is, I'll happily go along with it! Just trying to protect the integrity of your entries while protecting Faugar's.

Of course the option is always there to simply not use it and instead use one of Ingeborg's more dismal ones, as I mentioned.

Alright! Thanks both Arti and Talia! It ALL makes sense now by the way Talia, thanks for spelling it out for my rather slow mind. I was doodling trying to picture it and having zero success :p

I couldn't figure out if riffraff was a plural word of not Arti, so I just replaced it haha. I got all the little grammar/continuity issues, although I think I left a few off whilst highlighting sorry!

As for the picture, that definitely works for me (minus the hat, of course), and I was also thinking that there has to be a way to incorporate one of Ingeborg's pictures, maybe #8.  I'm still figuring out if and how I want to tie it in though. I'll get back to you on that. But definitely the hurricane pic works (I'd offer to photoshop it, but I am by far the most miserable artists out there.)

I thought we agreed it would still be like a worshipping ground of some sort even pre-storm? Elsewise, what reason do the women have for going up there in the first place in the middle of a hurricane?

I'm trying to balance having the actual full temple be constructed post-storm, but having SOMETHING for them to be going to in the first place.


EDIT: No rush Arti!

AHH NOW I SEE THE LIGHT. Sorry I kept re-reading the Temple entry and had a lot of trouble envisioning where exactly it sits. Thank you, I'll fix that up.

Ok, I'm gonna go around and just change the wording on the entire story a little bit, because I think this is a bit complicated for a one line change.

Thanks for clarifying, I'm slow but I get there in the end. :p

---

30 minutes later...


I'm sorry, you're doing a good job of explaining I'm just doing a poor job of envisioning.


Does what I have written work now? If not, I'm gonna try a before and after sketch in paint and you can tell me where I'm missing this.

Hahahaha ahh Talia, you NEVER badgered me... except when I deserved it. I've got an Al'Syrr I'd like to sell you  

Alright! Corrections have been done in teal.

Fixed all (I hope I got them all!) by city/town references, and changed them where appropriate. Marduran is a decent sized town, and it's described in the entry in detail rich enough that I think I can get away with the word "city' there.

Yeah the literacy issue was thorny for me I was wondering how to handle that.

I put a "foolish nobleman" on the sailing vessel, and the daughter of a wealthy landowner for the diary. I think that should cut it; Manthria is a pretty developed area, I could see most people with money to spare learning to read.

I THINK I described the geography right now in terms of Crazy Woman Pass, sorry I was kind've fuzzy trying to figure out EXACTLY where the everything was, with the Pass, the Falls, and the Temple.

I also incorporated your suggestion about having the temple erected following this event! That will need to be added to the Temple entry, so I'll be sure to add that to the list.

Also we now have an Old Woman, rather than Grandpa turtle

Most of the entries already have small history table captions regarding this storm, so we're good there.

NOTE: I gave up trying to color all the "village"/"hamlet"/"city" changes, but I think I got them.

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The following entries will most likely need blurbs about the storm.

Marduran
Nepris
Mithral Coast Route (when written; note to myself!)
Temple of Baveras (Include myth and detailssss)
Toran Falls

Likely more to come as I think of them!

Well I'm sure I'm giving away the farm by making this my first entry, seeing as this is what my younger self last worked on, but to hell with it, I have to post it! I'm really rather fond of it, although it's written in a strange manner.

There are LOTS of references in this entry to people, places, and creatures (Sea Tartuas!) that I have yet to write. I swear they will get done, but I needed to start cross referencing them now so that I could work them in later!

I'm rusty as can be with my entry writing, so without further ado, fellow dreamers, do me a favor and tear this to pieces.  

---

The Storm of Three Nights: 1025 a.S.


Overview: Few can better claim to have felt the sheer power of the stormy seas than those living during the winter of 1025 a.S. on the eastern coast of Manthria beneath the Mithral Mountains. For three hard days a storm now known as the Storm of Three Nights blasted the coast, ravaging, destroying and demolishing. A famous myth tells of how this event was the epitome of Baveras’ wrath at the death of a sea creature that had existed since the beginnings of time.


Description:    
The compendium, of course, strives for objectivity in all things. Although the fragments of first-person accounts included in this entry seem far removed from this ideal, the descriptions provided in them paint a vivid picture of a cataclysm of the likes of which the Manthrian coastline has rarely seen. As such, some of the descriptions below may be graphic or disturbing. Most of these are from various journals and diaries of people suffering the force of this hurricane, and so contain imagery of painful events possibly distressing for some. This is also an event that, though scattered reports exist, was neither carefully nor completely chronicled at the time. The meagerness of the snippets of writing available to base research on has led to some inference and educated guesswork in describing this terrible storm.

31st, Passing Clouds: Dramatic weather changes are certainly not uncommon near the coast of the Adanian Sea, but the suddenness and ferocity of the weather change that took place on this day is positively frightening. Despite a sunny, cloudless day, just before dusk the calm waters took a turn. Dark clouds rolled in overhead, and the thick fog, notoriously ever-present on this coastline, became blindingly thick, casting a dismal mood on the region. Just before dark, the sky opened up.

The following journal excerpt is a rare account written by a (foolish) nobleman who was on the ship that hunted the oldest of the Sea Tartuas. Though he died at sea, lost to the storm, understandable fragments of his last diary entry have survived.

“…our last day hunting… wanted to stay out… long as we could… long since given…hopeless. Heading back towards shore… Strait of Kharamm and we couldn’t see our own hands in the fog. Storm had threatened since dusk, and suddenly… rain, thunder, everybody screaming of judgement from the heavens. We… told us to leave the sail up... but wind changed direction… blown towards Nightfogs. Sail in tatters, ripped... vang fringed on the block. Wave… Four overboard. Another… coming we… di-”

Obviously the account was cut off, presumably with the reference to “another” being another, possibly larger wave. A few parts of the ship and this journal along with other articles, washed onto shore, but few bodies have been found. A careful search of the seafloor on the west side of the Nightfog cliffs might render some skeletons, but the dark and imposing nature of the cliffs prevents all but the most adventurous of Avennorian pearl divers from exploring.

Though journal entries from all the ships out at sea on this fateful night are obviously unavailable this was certainly not the only one. Along with smaller fishing vessels, a staggering number of merchant vessels bound for Marduran or Ciosa were lost. Rumours were told of a pair of Shipwreck Wyrms that had come out of roosts on either side of the entrance to the Strait of Kharamm, and were marauding up and down the coast from Mossy Rocks Cove to Snipe’s Head Bay. Sailors who managed to beach there ships before being destroyed by the storm told stories of these terrible beasts in inns from Holt to Kolbruk, but proof of these claims was in short supply, and the great drakes were never seen again after the storm had abated. Locally, many older children who had last been seen heading out for the Needle’s Eye were also later reported lost. Likely these children attempted to run for shore when the storm hit rather than wait for it to pass in one of the caves on the island. Despite our knowledge of their fate, they made the best decision, for the rising water level quickly flushed out any chance of their survival within those tunnels.

An eerie silence struck the land as the storm marched inward. Scattered ships between Quios and the Mithral coast reported heavy storms, though they felt only the tail end. Most of these upon perceiving the pounding the coastline was receiving made for either Quios or Ciosa to wait out the storm.

Right before late night became early morning, the records of many who were on shore describe the storm making landfall. This next excerpt comes from a teenage girl, the daughter of a wealthy landowner outside of Marduran. Her fate is unknown, though this diary was found lying, very battered but intact, in the locked writing desk of an abandoned house along Jamilso’s Bend. A leather case kept it drier than many other things left to the mercy of this hurricane.

“Always we have storms in the winter. Heavy rains, thunder cracking, making me lurch in my chair every few seconds; this is a common experience. They blend into a single memory in my mind, arriving suddenly, and without warning, only to pass just as suddenly. So as I look out my window on a beautiful day turned an ugly night, and the threat of a storm hanging in the air, I cannot understand this feeling. Why, in the pit of my stomach, do I feel a lump? I ate dinner, and it has not passed. Though I have sipped a cup of basiloc tea dry, it will not quit it. It is fear: this dark night will not pass like the others.

Later

“I know that though my fear may be irrational, this storm will not blend like the others. It is not the same. A few minutes ago, as I sat in my room by the candlelight, it began. I watched a sheet of water, falling in torrents into the sea, and then onto the cliffs, and then onto the grass, suddenly crashed over my house. Since then, the incessant pounding of the rain refuses to quiet, its sound dulling the rhythmic beating of my own fearful heart. Never can I remember rain like this; a blanket of water than seems to be trying to drown the house. I also remember the thunder. In this storm, the crackling lightening always preceded by a bang has abandoned its method. The thunder is continuous. There is no respite from the constant pounding; like war drums upon the horizon. I must be too loud in my quaking, for I hear my mother on the stairs. She is coming to tell me not to fear, to go to bed. She doesn’t understand. I do fear: I fear what I will wake up to at dawn. Good night.

Though obviously emotional and plagued with the fears of a young girl, this account is fairly accurate in the necessities. Rain crashed onto the shore just before the midnight hour, furiously pounding away. It certainly did not abate during the rest of the night. The owner of this diary may well have awoken to her worst fears.
Hit hardest tonight during the brief period when the storm actually was ashore were the houses, presumably like this girl’s, that were right along the coastline. Seaside settlements such as Nepris and Marduran took a pounding, but were of course easily able to weather these first few hours of storminess: built on the coastline, that’s what they were designed to do when built.

 1st, Dead Tree: The dawn was almost indistinguishable from the night as black storm clouds remained overhead, and the people of the Manthrian coastline were battered by the torrential rains that flooded houses and streets, and washed away anything not secured. Waves of unimaginable size crashed down upon the coast, a few rising up over the small cliffs that normally sheltered the inland communities from the sea.
   
By the end of the day, a terrible sense of doom was circling amongst the towns and cities lining the coast. Harsh temperatures, powerful rain and hail, roaring thunder and ferocious winds made it dangerous to step outside. In Marduran, the docks were almost immediately destroyed by the waves, and the guard houses flooded. Evacuations of the areas immediately threatened by waves occurred rapidly as people fled in terror, but many were trapped and lost.
Meanwhile, the most harshly punished village, Nepris, was practically underwater. The docks were destroyed, whole houses carried away by the punishing waves, and many families had taken to boats; paddling inland.
   
Although bizarre, there is one story of this storm so well documented that it cannot rightfully be considered lore, but should instead be taken at face value. Women of Nepris frequently visit Toran’s falls, often walking to either the top of the falls near Nogerinth’s tomb, or to the lower falls on a separate path where bending willows create a peaceful place of contemplation. At the break of dawn on this tempestuous morning, a small group of women whose husbands were at sea the night before made the short trek to meditate and pray together, begging mercy from the Wild and Untamed One for themselves and their husbands, She who fishing villages like Nepris both love and fear: Baveras, Goddess of the Sea. Slogging through the downpour, the women hiked into the hills. Upon arriving at the lower part of Toran’s falls , they saw a terrifying sight.  Ithrid, an elder of the village, wrote a famous account of the experience days later, that has since been corroborated by others, and been included here.

I believe everyone raised in a coastal fishing village develops a respect for the power of the sea, and She who directs the waves and the storms, as a power beyond measure. As such, the decision we made to visit the place near the base of the falls where we used to worship Baveras once a week in the most dismal weather imaginable, was driven by fear and respect. From the village we could see dark clouds swirling around Crazy Woman Pass, and far below, Toran’s Falls appeared to have been swallowed by the storm. On that terrible morning, this testament to peace, this serene location which is normally a symbol of nature’s perfection, was a reminder of the awe-inspiring dominion of water. At the base of Toran's Falls the purling creek had become a roaring river of white water from the Falls. The teaming drove the swirling river down, making it overflow it’s old bed, taking with it trees, rocks, or any unlucky creatures nearby. However a little further down, where the ridge forces the creek to bend to the east, we encountered a sight few could believe. The amiable creek was gone, replace by a formidable torrent of water, the roar of waves crashing and swirling skyward in a helix, carrying silt, sand and stones, overpowering even the roar of the thunder.

At that moment I knew; the Goddess of the Sea who holds sway in our lives was angered beyond reason or control, and her mercy would be nothing short of damnation. With the help of Grothar, she would devestate the shore. Shards of hail and the incessant rain pounded down on us, branches blew in the unyielding winds, and thunder clapped overhead. As a group we all recognized in that solemn moment, that if Baveras demanded our lives, we would have no choice but to relinquish them.
  
Despite the religious overtones of this emotional account, this mystical story goes a long way in expressing the sheer helplessness of the scene felt up and down the Mithral Coast. By nightfall, death was becoming a common chance occurrence as people were swept away by waves and drowned, or trapped in the wreckage of flooded lands. This religious miracle became famous after the storm, and a larger sanctuary, a temple of peaceful beauty and tranquility was erected on the spot where the helix roared in the hills. It still stands today, and the short walk to this mystic hallowed ground receives regular visitors.
 

2nd, Dead Tree: The storm penetrated even further inland on the second full day, and as it climbed higher into the Mithral Mountains, even the hearty Thergerim of the Mithrals began to feel the danger. The dwarves later reported sealing many tunnels, hiding deep in the earth as thunder clashed on the mountainside, snow buried the trails, and massive pieces of hail pounded down. The aboveground plots of the dwarves were almost all flooded and ruined. Having sturdier shelter and deep, cavernous recesses to hide in, few dwarves were lost, although tunnel collapses and caverns filled with water led to a few deaths.

Meanwhile, the situation at the base of these massive peaks became desperate. The village of Nepris was being pounded to dust, its structure all but nonexistent and its population dwindling. The people of Marduran kept retreating further and further inland, and all semblance of law disappears as chaos descends upon a town assailed by sea and sky. Those living closer to the ocean not carried off by the waves bought (or stole) what they could and fled towards the Outer City. The temple of Grothar for which the city was well known was all but overrun. The wealthiest houses were plagued by rioting city-dwellers, desperate for shelter, and many were violently forced to open their doors to all manner of refugees. The village of Starmiran, while unhurt by the waves, was forced to play host to many of these wandering lost souls. Jorn Geir Ranring, a wealthy partial owner of the Ducatri shipyard, wrote an indignant account. He was later murdered by these same “guests” after he purportedly stabbed one of them when the man wiped his muddy hands on Ranring’s hérin’sufár table cloth.

The undesirables have become intolerable! Early this morning I was forced to open my doors to this filth, wet and grimy, and offer them the comforts of my food and fire. My entire stock of seaweed bread; a winter’s worth of sustenance, gone in a day! This pestilence is intolerable. Perhaps if these poor fools had the foresight to get Mitharim advice on stone housing construction when building their own dwellings, theirs would still be standing and I would not be plagued by this nonsense.
The storm continued unabated. Rain (or snow in the mountains) combined with hail, heavy winds, and perpetual thunderclaps made the situation seem, if anything, worse than the day before. This third night brought now relief.
 
3rd Dead Tree: The break of dawn saw the rapid subsidence of some of the fiercer weather effects. The storm resolved into itself, and becomes no more than a steady rain, a pitiful drizzle that cast a dismal gloom on a land ravaged by a tempest.
By midafternoon, even this rain had tapered off, but the chill of a bitter winter set in, accompanied by a gloomy blackness of clouds and air so thick and heavy it seemed to weigh on the spirits of those forced to look upon the wreck of the land they had known all their lives.
More reports were sent to Marcogg by cities from Sunth to Whitewater Keep begging for relief and telling the Thane of the crisis. Two of these, one from what remained of Nepris’s elders and one from the fragmented administration in Marduran, have been included here.

Your Grace,
It is with great pain that I must write this account, for our once great town has been driven to ruin these past few days. Marduran is in need of support, for anarchy has gripped the region. The Storm of Three Nights, as this recent cataclysm has so aptly been called, led to the death of nigh on 250 people from what we know so far, and many suspect this number to be low. The rule of law has all but disappeared here, the Rural Districts have been ravaged and many stores of grain and vegetables, which are hard to attain along this coast under normal circumstances, have been stolen or lost. We beg of you, send aid. Soldiers are needed to restore order, builders are needed to restore homes, and food is needed to ensure that those who have survived last the winter. These dark times will get only darker if the response to this is not immediate.
Your Humble Servants,
Ender Jorril, Gerren Swanvild, Rett Skanris, Verg Vildneth
The Council of Marduran

A rider on horseback carried a similar letter from Nepris;

Your Honor,
She who rules the seas and holds sway in our fates has taken everything but our lives. We beseech your Highness for relief in this most terrible of days. The receding waves have carried with them the last scraps of our once bountiful fishing village, along with the lives of 120 of our kith and kin; more than half of those who lived in what was once our quiet village of Nepris, and what is now a ruin. We have no ships for which we rely on for food in the winter months, our meager stores of food were carried off in the floods, and even our homes were lost. We have reconstructed a makeshift fort for shelter further inland for the time being, but we will not last the brutal winter that has already set in. We beg of you for aid, help us survive Baveras’ wrath, help us to live through this misery.
Yours in grief and desperation,
The Nepris Council of Elders

The Thane’s respone was slow to come, and the needed aid even slower. The calamity had ended, but the repercussions would rock the Mithral Coast for a generation.


Effects:
In larger port cities such as Sunth and Marduran, the anarchy that took hold was catastrophic. In the latter especially, all semblance of government control was lost, and the first step was to restore relative calm. The Thane did eventually send soldiers, fearful of a larger movement, and the displaced victims were shepherded back to the dockside streets, to begin the tasks of salvaging and rebuilding. A serious eye was turned towards architectural integrity in all of these towns following this event, and in the rebuilding of Marduran, more care is taken in orderly construction. The docks and warehouses of the city became the most well-organized sectors, with wider, securely built escape routes and the creation of a few seaside stone walls with the assistance of the dwarves (no doubt to Ranring’s delight, were he alive).

The dwarves recovered quickly as well, although the destruction of their above-ground plots was no small loss. Although a few living in Tyr Donian assisted the brutally destroyed human villages on the coast, most the dwarves retreated to their caverns for the season, relying on their stores for survival. The few that did leave the security of the earth often sold their services as builders for projects such as the Marduran docks.  

For the once-proud hamlet of Nepris, a return to normalcy was not nearly so quick. Homes had been swept away, livelihoods of families that had lived there for generations uncounted gone in an instant. Only the unparalleled determination and skill that is so common in Avennorians allowed the 86 remaining villagers to survive the winter with only three deaths. Nevertheless, the bitterness of the season, short of food and warmth, cannot be overstated.
All the pestilences of large storms were also seen up and down the coastline. Game animals had been driven inland, trees uprooted and carried off, and shortage of freshwater led to a constant risk of dehydration.


Myth/Lore:
Tales of this epitome of Baveras‘ wrath run rampant, but one has eclipsed all the others, likely because it is based in fact. Forthwith is a record of the way one can hear it told by the elders of Nepris, when the village gathers on the anniversary of the storm to tell the story every year, and traverses the path to the famous temple together in reverent memory of the raging Goddess.

Who can say why they decided to risk the wrath of She Who Controls the Seas, but the gathering to hunt the Old Woman of the Ocean, the last of the Sea Tartuas, was an affair that captured the attention of men from this village, from Marduran, and started talk in every inn up and down this coast. It is said that the giant sea turtles were great friends of Baveras, wise and beautiful, and the slow decline of these gargantuan beasts was a great sorrow to her. One of these in particular, the Old Woman of the Sea, was a turtle of such magnificent proportions that its could be mistaken for a reef when surfacing. Beautiful were these shells, every manner of coral growing on them, a moving ecosystem. Their base was pearly in colour, streaked with silver and gold. Unfortunately, the beauty of the shell of the Old One was also his undoing, for the greed in the hearts of men raised in an environment filled with beautiful pieces of dwarven craftsmanship led them to hunt him. But Baveras loved the Tartuas, and the Old One was an especial friend to her, having seen the birth of the world, the rise and fall of millenia, coexisting in the sea with her. The decision of the men to hunt the creature was their undoing, however, for it led to all the hardship and wretchedness for which we are still thankful to have escaped.

Sightings of the Old One were common enough; often the beast would surface, and sailors would spot her from afar, unable to get close before she sank back beneath the waves. However that greed, that terrible greed, led a group of men to begin a hunt. Three ships embarked near the end of Passing Clouds on the hunt for the Elder Tartuas. Whalers hoping to (literally) strike gold, and simple fishermen groping for adventure climbed aboard as well. For many weeks the hunters would return every few days, cursing their luck, unable to find the creature. On the 30th they set out once more, and were never seen again, although the wreck of one of the ships has supposedly been found. What occurred seems painfully clear. One or more of the ships happened upon the creature, and in some stroke of misfortune, succeeded in ending the life of a being with experience more vast and terrible than these poor fools could hope to understand. The wrath of Baveras at the death of her friend was cataclysmic. The terrible Sea Goddess beseeched Grothar to visit his power upon the Avennorian fishing towns, and together they claimed their revenge. Our own village was destroyed, and for three nights death and and misery reigned. On the morning of the third, the wind and hail receeded, leaving only the rain, the tears of a Goddess suffering the loss of her oldest of friends.

 

BLURB FOR THE HISTORY BOOKS:
The coastline is battered by a three-day winter storm so dark and violent it turns day into night. Lives are lost, structures are damaged or destroyed, and recovery is slow and brutal. Local lore tells of a terrible act of vengeance by Baveras and Grothar.

Argh, you and your thrice-cursed webmaster tools.

Haha glad to be back. I guess yes, I was eligible back then, but I don't want to shortcut this one if you don't mind. I got so busy so fast last time, and that combined with some life issues was probably why I burned out in the first place! So I'll do a few entries, and then work back towards full membership. No desire here to jump back in too quickly, I'll earn it haha. Of course I don't expect this secret to hold for long so when (if) I have a page on the site I think linking all the entries would be fine.

As for my namesake... frankly if I have a namesake who is a grouchy liquored up mineworker with a proclivity for trouble, I consider that to be fate. Roughly speaking, we're the spitting image of each other!  

I have arrived at the Dream once again, and after lurking on the site and seeing years of marvelous work, have finally decided to try my hand at developing.

Yes, I say "once again" because I confess, I am in fact an old friend of many of you. I was 15 years old when I was last active on this site, and frankly even the most mature of 15 year old kids dabbles. I was going through my computer the other day and discovered the remnants of old entries, and after reminiscing for hours, decided I missed this quite a bit.

Of course, I also almost cried at my own poor writing and naivety on sooooo many things almost half a decade ago. But hey, live and learn I guess. I'm sure I'll think the same half a decade from NOW haha.


Although I'm rusty as can be I'm sure, I'm going to try and pick up developing right where I left off.

I'm also not going to tell you all who I am, because what fun is that? I'm actually rather confident yall will figure it out pretty snappily, the minute I start posting entries haha.

The other reason I'm not going to share who I was is because on the off chance some of you don't figure it out, I'd like to be distanced from my 15 year old self. The happy go lucky kid took a few hits these past few years, and I want a fresh start with many of you who's patience I no-doubt tried at times.

Arti if you IP match me and spoil the fun I swear I'll have you trussed up and thrown in Mira's greenhouse.


Good to be back with you all If there are no objections, I'm gonna start up with a few entries I was working on.



PS: despite the avatar, I'm in fact a guy. I'm just a sucker for a little macabre art haha.