the auroran highlands: icons

[smitheyes]

The Crusader

“If you believe yourself worthy, if your mettle - and your metal - far exceeds that demanded by Imperial duty… well, perhaps I may have some use for you, after all.”

In the Empire, unity is a fragile thing, as various tribes and clans fight for dominance within its political landscape. As a result, the Emperor employs a triumvirate of individuals to help maintain some semblance of peace and order. The Crusader, such as she is called, is an imposing woman, who assists the Emperor in maintaining the needed military presence within the Empire’s boundaries - and occasionally outside it.

Of course, that is only one of her duties. The truth, such as the people of the Auroran Highlands understand it, may be much more worrisome. It is not uncommon knowledge that the Crusader leads an elite company of knights under her direct - and sometimes indirect - command. These knights are known for being the fiercest fighters the Empire as to offer - so much so that even a single one of their ranks is said to be equivalent to an entire company’s worth of soldiers. What may be more uncommon knowledge, however, is that her and her company of knights often engage in perilous missions into uncharted territory, and come back only to retrieve that most precious and sacred of resources - starmetal. The secret of how they know where these fragments of such rare materials are, why such force is needed to reclaim them, and exactly what said metal is used for, are kept a close secret, to all but the most inner circle of this company of knights. It is said that said metal is needed to drive back the forces of the woman who is known only as the Diabolist.

The latest commander of this elite company has had her station for many years, and, despite the presence of Heavens’ Twilight - does not have any plans of letting her, or her fellow knights, rest easy.




The Diabolist

Depending on who you ask, the Diabolist is either a dangerous, active threat, a bogeyman lurking in the shadows, or a myth torn out of the annals of the Auroran Highlands’ blood-soaked history. It is said that she has been stalking around the continent in some form or another since the oldest historical records - a demon-woman, horned, with copper-tanned skin and fire in her eyes - when she is willing to assume her true form at all, that is. Many believe that she has the power to shapeshift to suit her whims, and has infiltrated the highest seats of power in the land many a time to manipulate events to her favor.

In all records, she is a chaos-bringer, one who sows discontent among men with one hand while tearing open rifts in the world with the other. The only solace the people have is that - for those that believe the Diabolist even exists, anyway - her power seems to wax and wane in opposition to the traditional fighting of the Auroran Highlands - during most regular years, incidents pose little threat, however, reports of her activities seem to grow the closer one nears to Heavens’ Twilight - what this mythological event could have to do with the Diabolist, none can truly say. Her agitation for it is well known among those followers who claim to spread her unholy word.

With the Heavens’ Twilight approaching once again, it is only surely a matter of time before rumors of these night-cults spring up once more, only to be put down by the sword, gleefully, for their ‘mistress waiting in the dark’.




The Archmage

“There is an order and practice to all things, all we need do is unravel it, and we can then replicate it.”

In the gleaming magical metropolitan hub of Horizon’s Edge, located deep inland of the Auroran Highlands, there exists a tower that stretches to what seems the heavens themselves. This is the residence of the Archmage.

The Archmage is the first and last word on the magical nature of the highly magic Auroran Highlands. Sitting as a member of the Emperor’s triumvirate, as many masters of magic have. His teachings are the study of the magical college in Horizon, and the structured practice of ritual, arcane study is the backbone of ‘civilized’ magic in the Highlands. Passed down from ancient traditions, he does little to subvert them, as their practices have been tested and true.

He is also the master of many wards and various arcane locales across the Highlands, using them for all manner of protective measures, surveillance, and quality of life among the people who live there. While he can occasionally be spotted moving from place to place - magically, of course - to check on the various irons he has cooking in magical fires, he presents an affable front that many quickly know to be a mask for a more neurotic, controlled nature - everything must be in its place, and matters of the arcane, no matter how volatile, are no exception.

The Archmage rules Horizon as an affable lord, who allows many things to transpire, so long as the rules are maintained. What happens to those who break the rules, or push an agenda of ‘unsanctioned’ magic… well, that’s an unsavory topic. He would really prefer we not discuss such things.




The Dwarven Queen

“We shall see our interests protected. All of them.”

The Dwarven Queen is the latest of a long line of long-lived regents to rule over Dwarven society, though perhaps the first to truly be pushed to the point of aggression - if only through politics. It is no secret that the Dwarves and the Elves have been at tension for longer than any human civilization can truly remember, but the destruction - still recent, in Dwarven history - loss of the Underhome to, what the Dwarven Queen claims, the actions of the Dark Elves have ushered a new state of readiness on Dwarven Society. More than ever are the coming of age expected to prescribe some level of military service to their culture, and the question seems not to be if the truce between Elves and Dwarves break, but when.

At one time, perhaps centuries ago, the Dwarven Queen could be said to have been a passionate, caring matron of the Dwarves. Known as the ‘Forgemother’ in those times, she took her duty just as seriously, but perhaps more warmth than human memory would characterize her as. These days, her demeanor is stoic and grim and she styles herself as a ‘Warmother’.

Even now, there is talk about an heir to the throne of the Dwarven people - or, specifically, a lack of one. The political body of nobility among Dwarves remain suspect of their Queen’s lack of an heir by which the name would be graced - fueled, if rumors are to be believed, by the paranoia that marrying another family’s head would lead to a cessation of power on her part. With these troubled times, these nobles use the guise of a potential attack on the closer-to-the-surface capital of Forge to pressure the need of an heir, should the queen fall in battle. The Queen’s reaction is to brush them off, but many wonder what she plans, even now.




The Elf Queen

“Magic is not something to be learned. It is something to be known, and feared.”

Deep within the Queenswood, deeper still than the elven capital of Myrkragrad, on the fringes of where the world gives to the Feywild, lies the heart of the Elven Court - Lost Light, where Wood, Dark, and High Elves gather to discuss the issues that concern them. And there sits the Elven Queen.

It is said that every Elven Queen migrates to Lost Light, for it is said there that the magic of the Queenswood run deep enough to allow the Elf Queen to reach out to every other elf, linking them to one another by pacts as ancient as anything the Highlands has ever wrought. This magic is the heartwood of what brings elves to unity, but it almost always means that the Queen is one who is fierce, but tranquil, lost in an endless sea of souls that push and pull at her centuries-honed mind.

She is one, but one is not all - and all certainly not one. Though the High Elves hold the most sway over elven society, the Wood Elves are torn between the Queen and the High Druid, and the Dark Elves are ostracized in society, not given much say in the way of the Courtly House Politics and their own affairs. While the Elven Court seems keen to act in solitude and sanctuary from the rest of the world, as the adage goes - still waters run deepest.




The Emperor

“These lands are magnificent, wonderful, and beauteous, given to us by a heavenly host. Now, if only we could bring order to them.”

The Emperor rules over the largest stretch of territory of the Auroran Highlands, though not entirely as a unified front. In truth, humankind and their civilizations operate as a number of clans, each allying or working against each other for the prosperity of the Highlands. While not all settlements have the scale of the capital of Stödjepunkt, where the Emperors have traditionally made their seat of power, it is customary for all heads of clan make the journey there to renew their pledge of loyalty once a new Emperor takes the seat.

This unity has often led to a strange, republic representation - the heads of each respect territory and their subservient Lords bring forth their disputes to Stödjepunkt, often to settle with either other clans or request aid from the central governing body. But it also means that when a ruler is cast down or abdicates, that a new one is picked from the heads of Clan in attendance. In this way, the Emperor often plays peacemaker - even as many of the Clans cry for bloodshed and repentance for this or that offence.

The Emperor cannot govern these territories on his own, however - he is assisted by a Triumvirate of individuals, who hold their power above the Heads of Clan, and in doing so, provide a needed gap between the one on the throne and those who vie either for the throne, or for its attention.




The Great Gold Wyrm

The Ancient Dragon Empire (not to be confused with the modern-day Dragon Empire) started with the worship of a great wyrm - seemingly primordial in age, the Great Gold Wyrm is known to all as mostly a figure of legend and of times long past - even in the memory of the longest lived denizens. Holy form made seemingly manifest, the Great Gold Wyrm vanished untold centuries ago.

Since then, the Golden Citadel - seat of what surely must have been the Great Gold Wyrm’s power and perhaps even the old capital of the Dragon Empire, has fallen into ruin and disrepute, though it still the site of worship and militarization of many of the Gold Wyrm’s followers - those called to the citadel by, so they claim, visions of the Wyrm himself. As the Dragon Empires of Man has distanced itself further and further to the west, creating a new stronghold in Stodjepunkt, the Citadel remains the holdout of those who would claim allegiance to the one true protector of this world.

It is known that the Great Gold Wyrm detests both the forces of the Diabolist and the Three, and his agents work to conspire against the demoness and the rival Dragon Empire with all the ferocity they can muster. But some wonder if the disappearance of the Wyrm means the last shining light of their civilization is slowly flickering, to be swallowed by unending darkness.




The High Druid

There are many stories about the High Druid, and, it seems, all might have a grain of truth to them.

The most factual come from the elves - the Druid is an elf - naturally - and a revered figure, particularly to the Wood Elves, and is typically one whose connection with the land and soil is so deep that they become the manifestation of the nature’s will - how this manifestation of the wood’s will takes shape, none can truly say, but the recent years the blossoming of new wildlands, forests, and foliage within the Auroran Highlands can only be the work of the Druid.

Others believe that this so-called influence of nature is the notoriously tricky Feywild finding a soul they can exert their power through - either by corrupting that person into something not quite fey, not quite mortal, but some strange in-between. While the Elves revere them as a religious figure, it could be said they will not stop until they see the developments of man reclaimed by nature, step by overgrown step. For the larger the wilds grow, the more reach the Feywild has.

And still others claim that the High Druid is chosen by the wills of the beasts of the world, to assume a form so strange and incomprehensible it defies explanation. Sometimes a ten-horned stag with slitted eyes, sometimes a moth or butterfly with wings of gleaming moonlight with a wingspan twice as large as most birds.

Whatever the case, it is said that every druid hears the High Druid’s call, at some point or another. If they know their agenda… they surely do not share it with others.



The Lich King

The Lich King - known as the One-Eyed King by those who would not invoke his name directly - is a tyrant from a bygone age, a sorcerous lord who wanted to harness the power of the Overworld, the weave of magic that permeates not just this world, but the higher worlds above the canopy of stars that the highest peaks of the Highlands barely touch. The weave of light and life and color that give the Auroran Highlands their name comes from the Overworld, and the Lich King, in mortal life, once sought to hold sole dominion of this untapped magic. He failed, but in his failure, he was given eternity to plan his revenge on those who stopped him, for despite failing to seize the Overworld’s magic, he successfully stripped the immortality from the ancient dragons and took it for his own, so he may endure everlasting.

At least, that’s what the legends say. No one alive has ever seen the Lich King, but the stories never cease.

The ages thereafter he has been regarded as a mythical specter - a lord of death whose collection of souls grows and sustains him. Rites of death to protect a fallen family member’s soul from being claimed to sustain the Lich King are common, as are curses by those who blame the Lich King’s spirit on those taken from the world too young.

It is said that the Lich King may yet make another bid for the Overworld’s power, given his immortal form, and that if the Overworld and the bright magical colors for which the Highlands are named fall into his grasp, all color in the world will soon follow.




The Orc Lord

No one knows where the Orc Lord came from, or how his foothold expanded so quickly.

Unlike the Three and the Emperor, commanding over their seperate Dragon Empires, the Orc Lord is a newcomer to the political scene, a figure of seeming legend made manifest. Orcs, for certain, have always existed, as have their half-orcen brethren. But a Lord of these disparate types has almost never been recorded in history.

A leader of men and women, ostracized by the societies in which they life - Tieflings, exiled Dragonkin, Half-Orcs, Half-Elves, Dark Elves, and all manner of other races united under one banner of equality and the need for revolution - for these two empires will never cease posturing unless done so by force. Or so the Orc Lord’s most fanatical supporters propose.

To the Empires, he is a greater threat than the other’s posturing - not just a warrior who has taken the lands on the fringes of either’s domain and reinforced them, but a firebran who has sparked the voices of discontent all across the land. A seemingly noble firebrand who would see the noble families and tyrannies crushed underfoot, no matter the cost.

Revolution has a cost, and if no one else will pay it, the Orc Lord knows who can fit the bill.




The Priestess

Head of spiritual communion in the Empire, residing in Santa Cora, a cathedral town as opulent as it is pious - it is here that many people journey to make their prayers heard by the seemingly distant heavenly host by which the Auroran Highlands pray for succor, Santa Cora is a host for religious congregations of all kinds - all of which the Priestess takes gladly, as she sees herself as a shepherd helping guide each person on the grand journey the Divines have given them.

Rarely has a spiritual counsel sat so close to the Emperor’s ear, least of all now, in these tumultuous times. Even now her humanitarian bent - and the will of her followers and the approval they get to move about the Empire - means that she has brought about a unity and fragile companionship that has not been seen in many days, uniting them through their faiths, and beckoning them towards the light, and out of the reach of the encroaching darkness.

While her followers work to do good in her stead, the Priestess can be lost in the abstract - disconnected from the world in order to touch divine will, she sees the world play out from the Heavens down, and helps to move the pieces to where they were meant to go. To some, this makes her seem as a grand manipulator, a woman who uses faith to steer the ship - whether for good or ill is a matter yet to be seen.




The Prince of Shadows

The place known as Glitterhagen is a city of deep, dark shadows.

Those that come and go from it know to pay respect to the patron of thieves and scoundrels, the Prince of Shadows. Considered but a legend and a myth, the vast majority of people believe he does not exist.

Every so often, however, stories circulate, just enough to remind people - sometimes they come from the shadowy valley city of Glitterhagen, sometimes they come from abroad - of those whisked away in the dead of night, or in a darkened alley. Those people who seem to go missing for a few days, only to come back as shells of their former self. Shadowy wraiths that descend upon the dreaming and tear deep into their psyche, leaving them unsure which world is real and which is fiction.

The profile is always the same - the victim had few friends, was down on their luck, left to their own devices… In other words, the ravings of madmen and drunkards, all.

But those who have seen Glitterhagen on a new moon’s night and returned with their wits intact may nurse a drink at a seedy tavern, and if they ask, they’ll tell you they know better.

The prince and his shadowy realm is real. His machinations are as inscrutable as they are unscrupulous, and whatever he’s planning, it can’t be any good.

For anyone, or anything.




The Three

The Three who rule the Draconic Capital of Drakkenhall are not the original three - which is to say, the Red, the Blue, and the Black, deprived of the White and the Green - but they claim direct lineage to these draconic ancestors of eld.

The Draconic Empire (referred to as such to distinguish it from the Dragon Empire) is the land of dragonkin and other beast-races. It is not as vast as the Dragon Empire, but steeped in the military and arcane just as deeply. The Three, for their merit, refer to themselves not as dragonkin, but wyrmkin - a title only given to those whose blood purity is strong and tied back to elder dragons. All three detest the Dragon Empire - a feud that has lasted as long as the existence of the Great Gold Wyrm, and the origins of the Dragon Empire.

The Black is the quietest of the three, an inquisitive soul by nature, but who delights in rooting out so-called ‘insurrection’ within the empire, looking to outsmart and outwit those who would escape his steely gaze, and those under him follow his lead.

The Blue is the face of Draconic Empire and her wit and sorcerous might have been put on display time and again. A master planner in her own right, she is the only one of the three with a head for diplomacy - and it certainly shows how much practice she puts in.

The Red is a force of destruction, a general the likes of which can bring even scores of soldiers to pause in fear and give even the Crusader pause in establishing safe borders. The flame in her eye - and her hands - and her lungs - is unmistakable, and scorched earth becomes not just a policy, but the battlefield itself.

However, the three have been taken with something as of late, or so the reports say. The Draconic Empire is… quiet. Too quiet.