Once, the world was at peace. Farmers grew their crops, merchants plied their trades and civilization thrived. As cities and centres of learning grew, magic became more widespread. Those gifted with arcane power pushed back the boundaries of knowledge and even the mundane folk could make use of the energies harnessed by those with power.
No-one really knows how it started, whether it was the jealousy of rival wizards, or a mindset on conquest, but soon the world was engulfed in war. At first countries fought countries, but soon theleadersof cities were declaring independence and then it seemed that it was every man for himself. Thewizards and magi who could do so quickly seized power. Draining the magics that had once been used to help theworld, they channelled the power into destructive blasts or used it to raise mighty armies. Even themostlimitedof the gifted were recruited, drafted or compelled to fight, as entire armies died in gouts of eldritch fire and the ground shook beneath them.
Mighty leaders rose and fell as the conflicts raged on. Ulthrasar the Undying, Noble Arka'nan and Mabeden, King of the Dragons became names to be feared as their armies annihilated each other ina never-ending series of battles. Giants descended from their mountain strongholds and grappled with wyverns and hydras. Chimeric beasts slaughtered the common folks and tales were even told of demonic beings rising from the flaming Pit and devouring the souls of those unfortunate enough to cross their path.
And then, suddenly, it was over. Some say that the forces of good triumphed and returned theworld to peace. Others say that the last of the great magi destroyed each other in a final blast of overwhelming power. Some say that the victor of the long wars looked out over the smoking ruins and devastated world that he had won and simply left this world to find another, still wholesome and unscarred by years of war.
One by one, the survivors dragged themselves from the rubble and set about rebuilding. However, once verdant farmland was now desert and forests of oak now blasted wastes. Resources of all kinds were scarce and nowhere had escaped the touch of the war. Those few gifted who remained skirted thefringes of the new settlements being built. Their talents barely tolerated for their usefulness, all thewhile being watched by people fearful of the damage done by men and women with the same power. Warlords and chieftains sprang up to protect or control the new shoots of civilization that were starting the grow.Borders and ancient allegiances were long gone, erased by the armies that had driven across the world. Areas blasted by magic spells became death-traps to the unwary as rogue elements of sorcery reacted wildly. Those creatures created during the war that had survived slunk off into the unpopulated wastelands, returning from time to time to raid, pillage and plunder. Those with the tenacity and the skills to survive set about hunting for food, supplies and relics that could offer some aid to those able to employ them.
The long Mage's-war is over. Now, the fight for survival begins.
Fluff and flavour.
Fluff and flavour.
Painted Minis in 2014: 510, in 2015: 300, in 2016 :369, in 2019: 417, in 2020: 450
Re: Fluff and flavour.
The Races of An'non
The Mortal Races
Mankind
With a thirst for adventure and a desire to know all that there was, mankind had spread far and wide across the world. Building mighty ships to cross the oceans and empowered devices to fly over the mountains, there was no spot that had not felt the tread of men before the long war.
Having reached such great heights, mankind was to fall the furthest during the long war. Cities burned and towers fell, fields of golden crops turned to ash and villages were washed in blood. What few survivors there were became refugees or brigands.
With the ending of the war, men and women began to rebuild what they had lost from the ruins and scraps left from their previous lives. Grand palaces were looted for stones to construct crude dwelling places and where once magic had helped to shape their lives, the common folk turned to hard work and engineering.
Not all of the survivors were so industrious or as inclined to resume their old lives. Brigands continue to live by the strength of their sword arm and a few souls, unable to comprehend the madness of the mages war have taken to worshipping fell idols in the wilderness, claiming that the destruction wrought upon the world was simply a prelude to a new terror.
Elvenkind
The deep woods and forests had ever been home to the ancient race of Elves. Able to communicate with plants and animals, they lived as part of the land, tending their homes as shepherds and gardeners.
When the war started, the Elves remained aloof, refusing to take sides, seeing it as a squabble between men that would quickly fade into memory. On a night, known only as 'The Awakening,' the populace of Massanahar watched on in horror as eldritch flames engulfed the great oaks supporting the Palace of Eternity. Strange shapes flitted about in the writhing purple and green fires as the palace burned. With a crash of timbers and a gout of flame, the structure collapsed. Only one survivor emerged from the flames, a minor court oracle known as Arka'nan. Swearing vengeance on those responsible, Arka'nan began recruiting an army of followers. Painting their faces with the ashes of the burnt oaks, Arka'nan's army left the forest and began a campaign of terror and hate against anyone or anything unfortunate enough to stand in their way. Noble Arka'nan's magical abilities grew to staggering heights before he was finally slain, not by a rival mage, but by a farmer whose family had been slaughtered by the elf host. With no-one leading them, the host fell prey to the mages who had coveted Arka'nan's power.
The wars left a terrible mark on the Elven lands. The once verdant forests were destroyed, trees that had stood for centuries were cut down or burnt. The mark left on the hearts of those who had survived was also deep. Their wanton cruelty and violence left many with a tremendous sense of guilt, and they hid themselves away from the world. Some however sought to regrow what they could from the forests, determined to see the green again.
Dwarvenkind
Never the most numerous of peoples, nor the most magically gifted, the Dwarves of An'non had carved out a role for themselves as merchants, craftsmen and traders. Great caravans and fleets plied the routes between the cities and towns of the other races and the Dwarves dealt with all fairly and openly. Artisans and architects would be contracted out to build great public works and monuments. Metal, wood and hide became works of art in their hands, and while they themselves possessed few true practitioners, many were the enchanted items that had been forged by the hands of the Dwarves.
When the war came, dwarven engineers found their work in great demand, erecting fortifications or developing more potent weapons. The mage-lords looked to outfit their troops with armour and blades of the finest steel and gold flowed like water. As things dragged on and the war spread, it became more expedient to raid the wagon trains for supplies. Gold lost it's lustre when ancient trading partners were wiped out. The heads of the guilds met and pooled their forces to defend their goods, but steel was no match for arcane storms or clouds of acidic fog. Trading posts were overrun and the guilds collapsed.
Those who survived looked upon the destruction of their caravans and fleets, the loss of life and the near miss the world had had with total annihilation. With precious few resources left to trade, many of the craftsmen took work in settlements to help with the rebuilding of the world they had once known. The caravan masters and guilders left with nothing, gathered what remained of their old crews and handlers and set forth to forge new alliances and to bring those supplies and goods that could be found to those that needed them. Scavengers replaced scouts and repairs replaced artistry, where once gold was the currency of trade, barter of basic necessities became far more common.
Goblinoids
Beneath the surface of the world, in caverns, sewers, tunnels and drains lived the myriad breeds of goblin. Infesting anywhere dark and dank and away from the sun, goblinoids were to be found everywhere. Lacking any form of government or culture, the goblinoids were treated as little more than intelligent vermin by the other races of the world.
Despite what the other races thought of them, the goblinoids thrived on the waste of others. Building traps and snares with deft fingers, rats, pigeons and the occasional household pet kept them well-fed. Scavenging in the dumps and in the drains beneath the streets gave them trinkets to pay for clothing and blankets from those few merchants who would deal with them.
Of all the races of An'non, the goblinoids contributed the least to the destruction, yet suffered as equally as any other. Crushed beneath falling buildings, trapped underground as cities were levelled by fell magics, the goblins perished alongside the human civilians they had scrounged from. That they didn't understand why the wars were fought or that they didn't take sides in support of anyone mattered not.
When the ground stopped shaking and no more fires fell from the skies, the goblins crept from their hiding places and gazed in dumbstruck awe at the ruins and rubble. Crawling out from the dank sewers, they grabbed fallen weapons and jabbed them at the sun glaring down at them. Obviously the taller races had suffered some catastrophe and were no longer in a position to keep the goblins down. Now those humans and dwarves who had once sneered at the goblins and kicked them in passing were reduced to scrabbling in the dirt just as the goblins had been. Squinting their eyes in the bright sunlight, the goblins went looking for revenge.
The Orcish Tribes
Living in some of the most inhospitable regions imaginable, the Orcs of An'non were born and bred to be survivors. Their hunter-gatherer lifestyle enabled small, roving tribes to make their homes in deserts, jungles and mountains. Aggressively territorial, the tribes maintained little contact with each other and even less with other species. Their harsh environment and the need to defend what little they had from outside invaders led the tribes to develop a strong warrior culture. All children were taught how to hunt, fight and live off the land at a young age and it was not unheard of for orc women to join raiding parties or to help defend their camp in case of an attack. For the other races who had settlements bordering the orcish frontier, raids and attacks were commonplace. Militias were on constant duty and every village and homestead was ringed by a high palisade.
When the war began, many armies sought to enlist orc tribals as scouts and skirmishers. In exchange for promises of better lands, supplies of goods and first pickings from the spoils of war, many warriors joined up with armies belonging to one of the Magi. With many of the warriors away, some of the more opportunistic tribes decided to expand their own territories at the expense of their now weakened neighbours. It wasn't long before one cheiftain rose to dominate the area. Gar Ullak quickly won a series of victories over his neighbours, adding each defeated tribe's resources to his own. With a coterie of witch doctors and shamans to support him and a cool head for tactics, Ullak led his now vast tribes out of the wastelands and into the fray.
Quickly overrunning several small towns, Ullak drew attention from the nearby forces of local mages. Using guile and cunning, Ullak annihilated the bands of soldiers sent to oppose him. Finally, amid the ruins of Watersreach, Ullak's army was brought to battle by the undead hordes of the warlock, Nymish. As more orc warriors died, their corpses rose again to join Nymish's side. Realising that he must kill the warlock to have any chance at victory, Ullak and his bodyguard launched a final charge. One by one, Ullak's guard were pulled down by the cold hands of their foe. Ullak himself made it within reach of Nymish before being torn asunder by dark magics. Seeing their chieftain fall, the orcs routed from the field.
Following the end of the war, the scattered orc tribes found themselves in the position of being best suited to survive in the barren lands left behind as a result of the conflict. A daily struggle for existence was nothing new to the tribes and for once they had an edge over the more civilized folks that had once kept them bottled up in the wastelands.
The Mortal Races
Mankind
With a thirst for adventure and a desire to know all that there was, mankind had spread far and wide across the world. Building mighty ships to cross the oceans and empowered devices to fly over the mountains, there was no spot that had not felt the tread of men before the long war.
Having reached such great heights, mankind was to fall the furthest during the long war. Cities burned and towers fell, fields of golden crops turned to ash and villages were washed in blood. What few survivors there were became refugees or brigands.
With the ending of the war, men and women began to rebuild what they had lost from the ruins and scraps left from their previous lives. Grand palaces were looted for stones to construct crude dwelling places and where once magic had helped to shape their lives, the common folk turned to hard work and engineering.
Not all of the survivors were so industrious or as inclined to resume their old lives. Brigands continue to live by the strength of their sword arm and a few souls, unable to comprehend the madness of the mages war have taken to worshipping fell idols in the wilderness, claiming that the destruction wrought upon the world was simply a prelude to a new terror.
Elvenkind
The deep woods and forests had ever been home to the ancient race of Elves. Able to communicate with plants and animals, they lived as part of the land, tending their homes as shepherds and gardeners.
When the war started, the Elves remained aloof, refusing to take sides, seeing it as a squabble between men that would quickly fade into memory. On a night, known only as 'The Awakening,' the populace of Massanahar watched on in horror as eldritch flames engulfed the great oaks supporting the Palace of Eternity. Strange shapes flitted about in the writhing purple and green fires as the palace burned. With a crash of timbers and a gout of flame, the structure collapsed. Only one survivor emerged from the flames, a minor court oracle known as Arka'nan. Swearing vengeance on those responsible, Arka'nan began recruiting an army of followers. Painting their faces with the ashes of the burnt oaks, Arka'nan's army left the forest and began a campaign of terror and hate against anyone or anything unfortunate enough to stand in their way. Noble Arka'nan's magical abilities grew to staggering heights before he was finally slain, not by a rival mage, but by a farmer whose family had been slaughtered by the elf host. With no-one leading them, the host fell prey to the mages who had coveted Arka'nan's power.
The wars left a terrible mark on the Elven lands. The once verdant forests were destroyed, trees that had stood for centuries were cut down or burnt. The mark left on the hearts of those who had survived was also deep. Their wanton cruelty and violence left many with a tremendous sense of guilt, and they hid themselves away from the world. Some however sought to regrow what they could from the forests, determined to see the green again.
Dwarvenkind
Never the most numerous of peoples, nor the most magically gifted, the Dwarves of An'non had carved out a role for themselves as merchants, craftsmen and traders. Great caravans and fleets plied the routes between the cities and towns of the other races and the Dwarves dealt with all fairly and openly. Artisans and architects would be contracted out to build great public works and monuments. Metal, wood and hide became works of art in their hands, and while they themselves possessed few true practitioners, many were the enchanted items that had been forged by the hands of the Dwarves.
When the war came, dwarven engineers found their work in great demand, erecting fortifications or developing more potent weapons. The mage-lords looked to outfit their troops with armour and blades of the finest steel and gold flowed like water. As things dragged on and the war spread, it became more expedient to raid the wagon trains for supplies. Gold lost it's lustre when ancient trading partners were wiped out. The heads of the guilds met and pooled their forces to defend their goods, but steel was no match for arcane storms or clouds of acidic fog. Trading posts were overrun and the guilds collapsed.
Those who survived looked upon the destruction of their caravans and fleets, the loss of life and the near miss the world had had with total annihilation. With precious few resources left to trade, many of the craftsmen took work in settlements to help with the rebuilding of the world they had once known. The caravan masters and guilders left with nothing, gathered what remained of their old crews and handlers and set forth to forge new alliances and to bring those supplies and goods that could be found to those that needed them. Scavengers replaced scouts and repairs replaced artistry, where once gold was the currency of trade, barter of basic necessities became far more common.
Goblinoids
Beneath the surface of the world, in caverns, sewers, tunnels and drains lived the myriad breeds of goblin. Infesting anywhere dark and dank and away from the sun, goblinoids were to be found everywhere. Lacking any form of government or culture, the goblinoids were treated as little more than intelligent vermin by the other races of the world.
Despite what the other races thought of them, the goblinoids thrived on the waste of others. Building traps and snares with deft fingers, rats, pigeons and the occasional household pet kept them well-fed. Scavenging in the dumps and in the drains beneath the streets gave them trinkets to pay for clothing and blankets from those few merchants who would deal with them.
Of all the races of An'non, the goblinoids contributed the least to the destruction, yet suffered as equally as any other. Crushed beneath falling buildings, trapped underground as cities were levelled by fell magics, the goblins perished alongside the human civilians they had scrounged from. That they didn't understand why the wars were fought or that they didn't take sides in support of anyone mattered not.
When the ground stopped shaking and no more fires fell from the skies, the goblins crept from their hiding places and gazed in dumbstruck awe at the ruins and rubble. Crawling out from the dank sewers, they grabbed fallen weapons and jabbed them at the sun glaring down at them. Obviously the taller races had suffered some catastrophe and were no longer in a position to keep the goblins down. Now those humans and dwarves who had once sneered at the goblins and kicked them in passing were reduced to scrabbling in the dirt just as the goblins had been. Squinting their eyes in the bright sunlight, the goblins went looking for revenge.
The Orcish Tribes
Living in some of the most inhospitable regions imaginable, the Orcs of An'non were born and bred to be survivors. Their hunter-gatherer lifestyle enabled small, roving tribes to make their homes in deserts, jungles and mountains. Aggressively territorial, the tribes maintained little contact with each other and even less with other species. Their harsh environment and the need to defend what little they had from outside invaders led the tribes to develop a strong warrior culture. All children were taught how to hunt, fight and live off the land at a young age and it was not unheard of for orc women to join raiding parties or to help defend their camp in case of an attack. For the other races who had settlements bordering the orcish frontier, raids and attacks were commonplace. Militias were on constant duty and every village and homestead was ringed by a high palisade.
When the war began, many armies sought to enlist orc tribals as scouts and skirmishers. In exchange for promises of better lands, supplies of goods and first pickings from the spoils of war, many warriors joined up with armies belonging to one of the Magi. With many of the warriors away, some of the more opportunistic tribes decided to expand their own territories at the expense of their now weakened neighbours. It wasn't long before one cheiftain rose to dominate the area. Gar Ullak quickly won a series of victories over his neighbours, adding each defeated tribe's resources to his own. With a coterie of witch doctors and shamans to support him and a cool head for tactics, Ullak led his now vast tribes out of the wastelands and into the fray.
Quickly overrunning several small towns, Ullak drew attention from the nearby forces of local mages. Using guile and cunning, Ullak annihilated the bands of soldiers sent to oppose him. Finally, amid the ruins of Watersreach, Ullak's army was brought to battle by the undead hordes of the warlock, Nymish. As more orc warriors died, their corpses rose again to join Nymish's side. Realising that he must kill the warlock to have any chance at victory, Ullak and his bodyguard launched a final charge. One by one, Ullak's guard were pulled down by the cold hands of their foe. Ullak himself made it within reach of Nymish before being torn asunder by dark magics. Seeing their chieftain fall, the orcs routed from the field.
Following the end of the war, the scattered orc tribes found themselves in the position of being best suited to survive in the barren lands left behind as a result of the conflict. A daily struggle for existence was nothing new to the tribes and for once they had an edge over the more civilized folks that had once kept them bottled up in the wastelands.
Painted Minis in 2014: 510, in 2015: 300, in 2016 :369, in 2019: 417, in 2020: 450
Re: Fluff and flavour.
The Created Races
The Kin
For as long as there have been forces of magic in the world, there have been those willing to experiment with them. Be it in finding new ways to apply the magical forces at their command, or in using those powers to try to improve upon nature, those with the means and the will have wrought changes upon the world that will no doubt endure for a long time to come.
The Kin are not one species or even a new one. Nobody remembers who created the first of the Kin species or why they did so. It is widely believed that Minotaurs, if not the first of the Kin were at least the first stable example of their kind. By mixing the characteristics of human and beast, certain traits could be brought to the fore and those less desirable removed or subdued. Minotaurs were meant to be sentient beasts of burden who could plough fields and fell trees without a farmer to supervise, yet the unruly nature of the males soon caused issue with those trying to harness them.
Still, those with power saw the success of creating a whole new race and the merits in attempting to do so. The process was far from perfect and establishing a species that was stable and didn't devolve into formless mutants within a generation was an incredible challenge.
When the Mages-war began and the wizards began to absorb power from each other and from the enchantments in the world, armies to control territory and to fend off rivals soon became a necessity. With their powers growing, the strongest of the magi took another look at the process of making Kin. Racial stability mattered little to creatures bred to fight and die in war. Greater speed, resiliency and strength coupled to animalistic aggression and instincts were incentives to find some way to improve upon mortal troops.
Soon whole armies of Kin were marching forth to do battle in their master's name. Where the raw material came from was never apparent, but it is clear that whole towns were often found deserted by scouts and other refugees.
Despite being thrown into the most brutal of fighting and deadliest of conflicts, some few Kin did survive the war. With the vanishing of the great magi, the Kin were left to fend for themselves. Whether or not they can survive in the long term will be the true test of the magi's power. That they pose an immediate and credible threat to the survivors of the war is not in question.
The Kin
For as long as there have been forces of magic in the world, there have been those willing to experiment with them. Be it in finding new ways to apply the magical forces at their command, or in using those powers to try to improve upon nature, those with the means and the will have wrought changes upon the world that will no doubt endure for a long time to come.
The Kin are not one species or even a new one. Nobody remembers who created the first of the Kin species or why they did so. It is widely believed that Minotaurs, if not the first of the Kin were at least the first stable example of their kind. By mixing the characteristics of human and beast, certain traits could be brought to the fore and those less desirable removed or subdued. Minotaurs were meant to be sentient beasts of burden who could plough fields and fell trees without a farmer to supervise, yet the unruly nature of the males soon caused issue with those trying to harness them.
Still, those with power saw the success of creating a whole new race and the merits in attempting to do so. The process was far from perfect and establishing a species that was stable and didn't devolve into formless mutants within a generation was an incredible challenge.
When the Mages-war began and the wizards began to absorb power from each other and from the enchantments in the world, armies to control territory and to fend off rivals soon became a necessity. With their powers growing, the strongest of the magi took another look at the process of making Kin. Racial stability mattered little to creatures bred to fight and die in war. Greater speed, resiliency and strength coupled to animalistic aggression and instincts were incentives to find some way to improve upon mortal troops.
Soon whole armies of Kin were marching forth to do battle in their master's name. Where the raw material came from was never apparent, but it is clear that whole towns were often found deserted by scouts and other refugees.
Despite being thrown into the most brutal of fighting and deadliest of conflicts, some few Kin did survive the war. With the vanishing of the great magi, the Kin were left to fend for themselves. Whether or not they can survive in the long term will be the true test of the magi's power. That they pose an immediate and credible threat to the survivors of the war is not in question.
Painted Minis in 2014: 510, in 2015: 300, in 2016 :369, in 2019: 417, in 2020: 450
Re: Fluff and flavour.
Brealin and Elvahr
Day and Night, Light and Dark, such is the relationship between the two divine siblings.
Brealin, Lord of the Sun rules the heavens, bathing everything in his purifying light. He is the god of warmth, passion and hope. His wrath, when roused is also terrifying to behold. He is the god of fire, anger and destruction. For his worshippers, he is both. His two sides are always striving for balance, as one must always strive for balance in all things.
This duality of his nature is also a key point in the beliefs of those who follow him. With one hand, they must be prepared to offer peace, warmth and love to those who need it. With the other, they must be prepared to smite those deserving of such punishment. It is the role of Brealin to stand as judge upon the world, the light of truth illuminating all things and a balance maintained between all things.
Elvahr, Lord of the Moon follows in Brealin's wake. What his brother reveals, Elvahr seeks to conceal and hide beneath the blanket of the night. And while Elvahr himself may seek to hide from Brealin, the light will always find him and show his face to the world. Elvahr is the god of trickery and treachery, of things best left unseen and unknown.
Those who worship him do so for their own benefit, the boons he bestows are hoarded selfishly and used without mercy or morals. Brealin's temples ring with song and congregation, but Elvahr's shrines are dank and hollow, where a prayer is a silent, private thing. Elvahr has power over souls and spirits and those who wish to avoid death offer up sacrifice to Elvahr so that he may overlook them for another day.
As the judgement of the world is carried out by Brealin, so is the judgement of a soul when a mortal can outrun Elvahr's shadow no longer. Those deemed worthy are taken to dwell with Brealin for eternity. The rest are accursed things granted to Elvah's care. Having no need for such wretched souls, Elvahr returns most of them to the world to reinhabit their decaying remains until such time as the bones and the accursed soul decay and crumble to dust.
A few, those who possessed great strength of will or purpose as a mortal, are able to animate their corpse and regain a spark of what they once had. Often they find themselves buried in a deep tomb, locked away, hoping that one day a foolish grave robber will dare to open the seals and release them onto the surface.
Day and Night, Light and Dark, such is the relationship between the two divine siblings.
Brealin, Lord of the Sun rules the heavens, bathing everything in his purifying light. He is the god of warmth, passion and hope. His wrath, when roused is also terrifying to behold. He is the god of fire, anger and destruction. For his worshippers, he is both. His two sides are always striving for balance, as one must always strive for balance in all things.
This duality of his nature is also a key point in the beliefs of those who follow him. With one hand, they must be prepared to offer peace, warmth and love to those who need it. With the other, they must be prepared to smite those deserving of such punishment. It is the role of Brealin to stand as judge upon the world, the light of truth illuminating all things and a balance maintained between all things.
Elvahr, Lord of the Moon follows in Brealin's wake. What his brother reveals, Elvahr seeks to conceal and hide beneath the blanket of the night. And while Elvahr himself may seek to hide from Brealin, the light will always find him and show his face to the world. Elvahr is the god of trickery and treachery, of things best left unseen and unknown.
Those who worship him do so for their own benefit, the boons he bestows are hoarded selfishly and used without mercy or morals. Brealin's temples ring with song and congregation, but Elvahr's shrines are dank and hollow, where a prayer is a silent, private thing. Elvahr has power over souls and spirits and those who wish to avoid death offer up sacrifice to Elvahr so that he may overlook them for another day.
As the judgement of the world is carried out by Brealin, so is the judgement of a soul when a mortal can outrun Elvahr's shadow no longer. Those deemed worthy are taken to dwell with Brealin for eternity. The rest are accursed things granted to Elvah's care. Having no need for such wretched souls, Elvahr returns most of them to the world to reinhabit their decaying remains until such time as the bones and the accursed soul decay and crumble to dust.
A few, those who possessed great strength of will or purpose as a mortal, are able to animate their corpse and regain a spark of what they once had. Often they find themselves buried in a deep tomb, locked away, hoping that one day a foolish grave robber will dare to open the seals and release them onto the surface.
Painted Minis in 2014: 510, in 2015: 300, in 2016 :369, in 2019: 417, in 2020: 450
Re: Fluff and flavour.
The Drain
For centuries, the magi had been creating items of power. From simple enchanted tools to help make mundane tasks easier to incredible devices that could harness the elements and reshape the world. The creation of such items took a toll on the creator, leaving them weakened and frail. Creating a a simple item such as a knife that never goes blunt, or a shovel that parts dirt like water would require the creator to take a few days of rest after their work was done, but greater items could cripple or even kill the creator. As this toll was recognized, the greatest of magi would wait until they felt the chill of death's approach before creating their last great work. These legacy items were named for their creator, burned out by the act of enchanting and binding their creation.
It therefore came as a shock when a young wizard, fresh from the Lemeos Academy of the Arcane, made a startling discovery. Genion had been working on a way to combine two previously enchanted objects to create a more intricate device, when he accidentaly syphoned the power from one of them into himself. Though not a great deal of power was taken, Genion could feel the charge of energy inside himself, a rush of magic infusing his body. He immediately set about trying to recreate his accident, swiftly draining the second object in his possession.
Wanting to share his discovery with his colleagues, Genion addressed an assembly of magic users at Lemeos. Explaining this new theory, that the magic used to enchant an object was simply stored inside it, waiting to be drawn out again, a hush fell over Genion's audience. The implications in this discovery that Genion had overlooked in his rush to share his knowledge were readily apparent to the members of the crowd. With items to draw upon, any wizard could double his power overnight. Spells that had previously been beyond their ability could be channelled and cast by leeching from an outside source.
The masters of the academy bade those who had learned of this great thing to keep it a secret and never draw upon it, but it wasn't long before fresh-faced young students were casting spells it had taken their teachers years to master. In markets across the land, the cost of ensorcelled tools began to increase as demand sky-rocketed. Genion became a pariah among his peers, his accidental discovery was publicly denounced, though many took advantage of the benefits. With the ability to draw off power from outside, several mages were able to complete legacy items and maintain their health and body.
Frustrated by the hypocritical scorn from the community abusing the knowledge he had freely given, Genion turned to his studies to discover more about draining magic. With a little work Genion found that it was possible to draw away energy from a spell as it was being cast, though the timing and skill required was demanding. However, he still had one last discovery to make, though once again it was an accident.
Fearing the continued effect of draining the power so carefully invested by generations of magic users, one of the Lemeos professors went to Genion to try to talk him out of researching further and to enlist his aid at reducing the rate at which others were undoing centuries of hard work. Incensed by the demands of his professor, Genion turned on him. Seeking to disenchant the professor's wards and defences, Genion unleashed his latest attempt at draining magic. With a cry of anguish, the old professor was torn asunder as waves of magical energy poured from his body and into Genion. Reeling under the onslaught of new power, Genion staggered outside to where the professor's junior associates were waiting for their master. Seeing Genion crackling with arcs of energy several of them fled, spreading the news that Genion had found a way to draw on the power other magi. The others sought to avenge their old teacher, only to be scythed down by jets of oily black sorcery flung from Genion's outstretched arms.
After that Genion fled into the wilderness. Whether out of grief or rage, no-one knows. Across the lands, spellcasters eyed each other suspiciously, watching to see if their rivals had learned Genion's last secret.
For centuries, the magi had been creating items of power. From simple enchanted tools to help make mundane tasks easier to incredible devices that could harness the elements and reshape the world. The creation of such items took a toll on the creator, leaving them weakened and frail. Creating a a simple item such as a knife that never goes blunt, or a shovel that parts dirt like water would require the creator to take a few days of rest after their work was done, but greater items could cripple or even kill the creator. As this toll was recognized, the greatest of magi would wait until they felt the chill of death's approach before creating their last great work. These legacy items were named for their creator, burned out by the act of enchanting and binding their creation.
It therefore came as a shock when a young wizard, fresh from the Lemeos Academy of the Arcane, made a startling discovery. Genion had been working on a way to combine two previously enchanted objects to create a more intricate device, when he accidentaly syphoned the power from one of them into himself. Though not a great deal of power was taken, Genion could feel the charge of energy inside himself, a rush of magic infusing his body. He immediately set about trying to recreate his accident, swiftly draining the second object in his possession.
Wanting to share his discovery with his colleagues, Genion addressed an assembly of magic users at Lemeos. Explaining this new theory, that the magic used to enchant an object was simply stored inside it, waiting to be drawn out again, a hush fell over Genion's audience. The implications in this discovery that Genion had overlooked in his rush to share his knowledge were readily apparent to the members of the crowd. With items to draw upon, any wizard could double his power overnight. Spells that had previously been beyond their ability could be channelled and cast by leeching from an outside source.
The masters of the academy bade those who had learned of this great thing to keep it a secret and never draw upon it, but it wasn't long before fresh-faced young students were casting spells it had taken their teachers years to master. In markets across the land, the cost of ensorcelled tools began to increase as demand sky-rocketed. Genion became a pariah among his peers, his accidental discovery was publicly denounced, though many took advantage of the benefits. With the ability to draw off power from outside, several mages were able to complete legacy items and maintain their health and body.
Frustrated by the hypocritical scorn from the community abusing the knowledge he had freely given, Genion turned to his studies to discover more about draining magic. With a little work Genion found that it was possible to draw away energy from a spell as it was being cast, though the timing and skill required was demanding. However, he still had one last discovery to make, though once again it was an accident.
Fearing the continued effect of draining the power so carefully invested by generations of magic users, one of the Lemeos professors went to Genion to try to talk him out of researching further and to enlist his aid at reducing the rate at which others were undoing centuries of hard work. Incensed by the demands of his professor, Genion turned on him. Seeking to disenchant the professor's wards and defences, Genion unleashed his latest attempt at draining magic. With a cry of anguish, the old professor was torn asunder as waves of magical energy poured from his body and into Genion. Reeling under the onslaught of new power, Genion staggered outside to where the professor's junior associates were waiting for their master. Seeing Genion crackling with arcs of energy several of them fled, spreading the news that Genion had found a way to draw on the power other magi. The others sought to avenge their old teacher, only to be scythed down by jets of oily black sorcery flung from Genion's outstretched arms.
After that Genion fled into the wilderness. Whether out of grief or rage, no-one knows. Across the lands, spellcasters eyed each other suspiciously, watching to see if their rivals had learned Genion's last secret.
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