This is a world of adventure and wizardry.
Here, monsters slip through seams in The Fabric to reality, drawn to fire, pain, and hunger.
These monsters warp the land around them, and are trapped by the boundaries of their domain. Over time their Lair grows, and the monster with it.
Men would go into these Lairs, and Temper the monster before it became too dangerous. It was bloody work.
It was too much work.
Sapphire, the god who wove The Fabric, told the people to find monsters who could tolerate them. Sapphire told the people to live in their lairs.
These monsters became The Aspects. They embodied Justice, Knowledge, Growth, and Ambition.
Within decades, their lairs had overtaken continents. The Aspects became unstable. The people suffered for Their excesses.
The first new monster in millenia was named Radal, Aspect of Freedom. It was a tool with one purpose, to kill The Aspects.
Radal succeeded, once. It stabbed The Aspect of Ambition through the back, it killed Them both. The land covered by Ambition’s lair had become unhanded.
The people began calling it The Freelands, and vowed to live under no monster again. The Freelanders Tempered the monsters in their lairs once more.
Our story begins at the edge of The Freelands.
Over two hundred years have passed since The Temperance of Ambition.
It is the middle of the night in a snowy forest.
A nobleman lights a cigarette.
“You look like such a douche when you do that,” Myra said.
Arvere lounged against a fallen log, cigarette hanging from his mouth. He pointed to his cigarette and cast a spell to light the sucker. He closed his eyes and slowly breathed it in.
“That hurts, Myra. I didn’t even change the color of the flame,” Arvere said dryly, smoke coiling out his mouth.
“You think that little trick is going to get some girl in a bar to-“
“Yes.”
“Well that’s why you look like a douche.”
Arvere leaned back, closed his eyes, and relished his cigarette. The fire crackled as Myra muttered to herself about her “shit useless fucking runes”. After a few minutes, Arvere finished and tossed the butt onto the ground.
Across the fire, Myra was carving some passable runes into her arms. They were colored a crows indigo, punctuated by runes that swirled in kaleidoscope hues. Myra herself was… She’d taught him about his taste in women.
Coming out of the brush, Ellim returned from collecting firewood. Broad in every sense of the word, you’d be forgiven for assuming Arvere and Myra were his squires. He added his sticks to the fire, then turned to Arvere.
“You got any smokes left?” Ellim asked.
“Only one, but it’s for someone who thinks I’m not a douche.” Arvere replied.
“I’d never say it to your face,”
Myra snorted, and Arvere gave the cigarette to Ellim. Ellim, for his part, lit it using the fire.
“Run it over one more time, for both of us,” Ellim said to Arvere, sitting down next to him.
“The pay is 3000 Gell, split three ways. About a half-mile north of us is a lair that’s at least six months old. In that time five groups have gone missing. Nobody’s left alive.” Arvere said.
The air tensed up, even the fire was silent.
“Gods Arvere, what did you get us into?” Ellim laughed, breaking the moment.
“We’ve been ready for something bigger for months,” Myra said, her eyes shining gold.
Arvere said nothing. He sat, still as stone, staring into the fire. Ellim’s hand landed on Arvere’s shoulder, startling the smaller man.
“None of them have got us yet,” Ellim said.
Arvere smiled weakly at them, then Myra pulled a flask from her coat and tossed it to Arvere. He took four heroic swigs before tapping out, coughing.
“His highness isn’t accustomed to the customary drinks of Halir?” Myra said.
“This pig piss and horseshit?” Arvere said between hacking fits, as Ellim took a drink from the flask.
“It goes down easier the second time,” Ellim said, tossing it back to Myra.
And it did get easier and easier, until there was no more left to drink.
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