Lorebook: Songs of the Norrin

Songs of the Norrin

LORE

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Faere Fall and Fallow Tyde
(Excerpt from the Norrin epic, The Lay of Faenir)

Faere fall and fallow tyde, Friggid wynds blow winter-chill; Dusk-hearth lande Faenir rydes, Brusk alofte in frosted hande.

Hoofe-beats tremble steppe and stone, Wylde-hunt quakes the earth belowe; Skys are cloaked in stormes unborn, Tempers sharpe, hearts bounde in wrothe.

Iron-rimed whispers, rune-carved stones, Shadows stryde neath black-moon watch; Wolven-song spills twysted pynes, Somethynge dark beneath the frost.

Faenir rydes through blackest nyghtes, Burning Brusk—a flayming brande; Held alofte, unyielding fyre, Starless firmament doth quake.

War-cry swalled in wynter's throate, Deathe swift comes, but silence swifter; Bodies strewn cross ice-bound lande, Warriors proude now bones unmade.

Cold-haft plung’d in hearts of men, Braeking bodies, unmending souls; Yet beneath this silent fielde, Murmurings—old Yggthr breathes.

Wayting pacient, wyse and olde, Still as fyrst-star’s distant gleame; Faere fall and fallow tyde, Faenir’s name the ravens calle.

Historical Context and Meaning

This verse comes from the revered Norrin epic known as The Lay of Faenir, which chronicles the mythic deeds and battles of Faenir, a legendary hero-king of the Norrin people who was said to have united disparate clans during the harshest winter in memory, known as the "Faere Fall" (literally: "the falling of fear").

Often recited during the darkest months of winter, it serves both as a cautionary tale and a ritualistic invocation meant to honor Faenir, a mythic figure believed by the Norrin to be a divine harbinger of change and calamity. Faenir, astride his great steed and wielding his burning brusk (an archaic term meaning "torch" or "brand"), symbolizes the raw, untamable force of nature itself, arriving as herald of a great and inevitable upheaval.

The "faere fall and fallow tyde" referenced repeatedly in the text points to an ancient belief in cycles of renewal through destruction: lands must lie fallow, blood must nourish the frozen earth, and change is born through violence and sacrifice. Winter, represented vividly in the text as both enemy and ally, embodies both a literal and spiritual trial, where humanity is tested and often found wanting.

The recurring imagery of runes, wolves, ravens, and starless skies is deeply significant in Norrin spirituality, drawing from their long-held reverence for omens, ancestral memory, and communion with the primal forces of their harsh northern homeland. The whispering stones and singing wolves serve as symbolic echoes of the land’s own voice, hinting at a hidden magic that once ran through the bloodlines of the Norrin before its suppression by southern conquerors.

Notably, the piece culminates in a quiet moment. A murmur beneath silence, representing Yggthr, the great, primordial spirit of the northern wilds. This symbolizes the Norrin belief in an ever-present, watchful natural world, patiently awaiting the opportunity to reclaim what was once lost.

Thus, The Lay of Faenir serves as both cultural remembrance and spiritual instruction, reminding listeners of the delicate balance between mankind’s ambitions and nature’s enduring, patient might.

Stormcall to the Shield-Wall

Harke ye waves ashore, breathe life anewe, From frigid depths where Thalrik dreams; Seabourne whispers rise to spewe, Forgotten songs from Ulthar's streams.

Salt-mist shrouds the Isle of Karr, Where Brannor's stones in silence stand; By lightless moons, beneath the star, Wyld windes bless old Vaelmar's land.

Eldarr runes in driftwood lie, Echoes borne on tidale breath; Mysteries taught by gods on high, In whysper'd rites to cheat the deathe.

Hulda walks the blackened shore, Spear of Yldir raised in pride; The waves recount what came before, Saga bounde to ebbing tyde.

Mounds stir gently, moss and stone, Belowe, olde bones begin to wake; Anveir's horn, in somber tone, Calls warriors forth from earth’s embrace.

Rise ye, Norrin, shield-wall forme, Proud beneath dark skies anew; From depths of sea and heart of storme, The olde blood calls ye homeward true.

Harke ye waves, awaken ye, Vaelmar’s sons and daughters ryse; Breathe life anewe, reclaim the sea, Till stars reclaim their ancient skies.

Historical Context and Meaning

Stormcall to the Shield-Wall is an ancient Norrin war-chant and invocation believed to date back to the earliest legends of the Vaelmar Isles. It is recited during rites of renewal and before battles, calling upon ancestral heroes and forgotten gods to rise and lend their strength.

The poem references Thalrik, the slumbering god beneath the northern seas, and Hulda, the warrior-maiden whose valor shaped Norrin martial tradition. "Brannor's stones" signify sacred sites scattered across the Isle of Karr, often associated with ancient rites and the Eldarr runes, symbols believed to preserve wisdom lost to time.

The recurring theme of awakening and rebirth symbolizes the enduring Norrin belief in cyclical renewal, resilience, and their profound connection to both sea and land.

Torvald’s Lament
(Excerpt from Of Waves and Wylde Hearts, the Norrin saga of the lovers known as Torvald and Sigrun)

Traveler, harke, and sit ye neare, A tale I'll weave of Sigrun deare; Across ice-wastes my harte did seeke, Her voice more sweet than fayre-bird's speeke.

Through froste-clad lands I tred aloyne, Guided by dreams old Thalrik's shown; Where thorne-ways cut through flesh and boyne, Skyfyre burned to gyde my waye, To finde my love ere end of daye.

My cloak in tatters, wyndes did teare, My beard as white as vaelwarg-haire; Yet hearte as hotte as Brusk aflame, Did pulse and call aloud her nayme.

I faced the wyrme of Eldgrim's laire, With teeth as swords, a gaze of feare; Its scales as harde as runic stone, Yet courage helde my blade alone.

Through marshes darke, I waded deepe, Where spiryts lost their vigil keepe; Their mournful cries called me to stray, Yet thoughts of her kept me my waye.

I crossed the bridge of Yldir’s fyre, Whose flames consume each foule desyre; Yet my true love burned bright and cleare, No flame could take what I held deare.

Within darke woods, 'neath starveiled skeine, Her whispers stirred through snowe-softe reine; Her face, a vision sylver-brighte, Yet lost againe each fleeting nyghte.

Stone-fanged peaks loomed colde and steepe, Ancestral paths where secrets sleepe; Yet onward pressed my weary feete, Through shadow-vales, my love to meete.

On cliffes of sea stood Sigrun feyre, Eyes glistening with grief-held care; Anveir's horn mourned through the aire; Her teares encased by winter's breath, I raced to her past realms of deathe.

Till dawn-breake, traveller, brought me peace, My footsteps neare, her sorrow cease; At last embraced, brief joye we helde, Yet cruel fate our love dispellede.

A single touche, a kyss of payne, The seas reclaimed my forme againe; Yet traveler, knowe this lore is true, Though lost to waves, my hearte she knewe.

Historical Context and Meaning

Torvald’s Lament is an excerpt from the Norrin saga, Of Waves and Wylde Hearts, a revered epic that tells the bittersweet tale of the legendary hero Torvald and his beloved, Sigrun. According to ancient tradition, Torvald, a famed warrior from a long-forgotten northern fjord-clan, undertook an arduous journey across the perilous Vaelfrost Sea and through the haunted wilderness known as the Whyspring Wastes, all to reunite with Sigrun after fate cruelly separated them.

This excerpt captures a poignant moment in the saga: Torvald recounting his memories of Sigrun to a weary traveler, recalling vividly her striking Vaelwarg-haire, or hair likened to the ethereal Vaelwarg, a ghostly beast of legend said to wander frozen wilds beneath aurora-lit skies. His trials mentioned in the poem symbolize profound devotion amidst impossible odds, invoking the watchful presence of the gods: Thalrik, keeper of storms and trials, and Anveir, deity of hearth and home, whose favor Torvald sought during his journey.

Among the Norrin, Torvald and Sigrun's story holds significant cultural resonance as a meditation on both the strength and cost of love in defiance of destiny itself. It is often recited by skalds at gatherings, reminding listeners of the enduring power of memory and love's capacity to outlast even death and divine decree.

Lorebook: The Second Order

The Second Order:

An Overview

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Overview and Purpose

The Second Order is a splinter faction born from the ashes of the Imperium, founded in 40 S.O. by High Inquisitor Veral and a cohort of devout adherents who refused to accept the Imperium’s declaration that magic had been eradicated from Atheria. This militant and theocratic organization sees itself as the true inheritor of the Four Fates’ divine mandate, carrying on the Imperium’s mission to purge magic and impose sacred order. Headquartered in Nyskar Hold on the isolated Isle of Atrixos, the Second Order wields its authority with fervor, positioning itself as the ultimate arbiter of faith and justice. Their founding purpose was clear: to eradicate the arcane and maintain divine order through whatever means necessary.

Over its early years, the Second Order consolidated its power, rallying followers who shared its vision. Through judicial decrees, military campaigns, and religious outreach, it expanded its influence across Atheria, often clashing with kingdoms wary of its harsh measures. At the heart of its doctrine lies the belief that magic is an unholy abomination, a corruption that must be eradicated to ensure the realm’s sanctity and survival.

The Second Order operates as both a spiritual and martial force, wielding fear, devotion, and iron discipline to further its cause. It is a sectarian power that claims to answer only to the Four Fates, enforcing its vision of purity and faith with unwavering fervor. Through its actions, the Second Order has left an indelible mark on Atheria, both feared and revered as the ultimate guardians of divine order.

Structure and Hierarchy

The Second Order is a highly structured and deeply hierarchical organization, reflecting its roots in the faith and martial disciplines of Atheria. Following the dissolution of the Imperium, the Second Order maintains and exerts its influence through three central branches: The Ordinate, The Covenant of Light, and The Legion Eternal.

At the pinnacle of the Second Order's structure is the Council of the Supreme, a body of elders responsible for establishing doctrine and guiding the Order’s mission. The Prefect, elected from among the Council, serves as the supreme leader, wielding executive authority over all branches and operations. This leader is tasked with maintaining the delicate balance between the Order's theological, judicial, and martial pursuits.

Each branch, purpose, and structure is summarized in the next section, and a high-level visual overview of this hierarchy can be seen in Figure 1.

Figure 1. Hierarchy of the Second Order.

Prefect and Branch Leadership

The Second Order’s power is vested within the Prefect whose work is carried out among three distinct branches, each reflecting a vital aspect of its mission: justice, faith, and war. These distinct branches ultimately work in tandem to fulfill the Order’s divine mandate across Atheria:

• The Ordinate

  The Ordinate serves as the Second Order’s judicial and investigatory wing, a bastion of order dedicated to rooting out heresy and ensuring adherence to the faith. At its head is the Maleficar, who oversees both the judicial and investigatory operations.

  The judicial branch is led by the Imperators, who craft and enforce the Order’s legal doctrines, shaping the laws that govern both the faithful and their own ranks. Beneath them are the Justicars, who operate as enforcers of these laws, traveling to distant realms to ensure rulers uphold the mandates of the faith. These field arbiters often walk the line between reverence and fear, bringing with them the weight of the Second Order’s judgment.

  Meanwhile, the investigatory branch operates under the direction of the Inquisitors, who take a more direct approach in their battle against heresy. Tasked with uncovering hidden threats and executing swift justice, they command the efforts of the Seekers, a group that operates in the shadows. Seekers, known for their keen minds and sharp tongues, often serve as diplomats and spies, locating suspected heretics and monitoring foreign lands. Together, these two branches ensure that neither law nor heresy escapes the gaze of the Ordinate.

• The Covenant of Light

  The Covenant of Light (often referred to as the Covenant) embodies the spiritual core of the Second Order, its mission rooted in preserving and spreading the faith of the Four Fates. It is led by the Diviner, a figure of immense theological authority, who guides both the scholarship and the outreach efforts of the Order.

  Within the sanctity of the Hold, the Keepers act as guardians of sacred knowledge. These scholars and archivists work tirelessly to preserve the doctrines of the faith, delving into ancient texts and safeguarding the Order’s spiritual legacy. They rarely venture beyond the Hold, their lives devoted to study and contemplation.

  By contrast, the Redemptors serve as the faith’s emissaries to the wider world. These clergy members are sent to towns, kingdoms, and isolated regions to act as spiritual guides and symbols of the Second Order’s devotion. Their sermons and presence carry the weight of the Covenant’s authority, ensuring that the Fates’ will reaches even the most distant corners of Atheria.

• The Legion Eternal

  The martial arm of the Second Order, the Legion Eternal (often referred to as the Legion) ensures that the Order’s decrees are upheld by force when necessary. It is led by the High Warden, whose role is to command the Order’s armies and oversee its logistical and naval operations.

  The High Warden relies on a trio of masters to manage the Legion’s diverse needs. The Master of Arms oversees the armories, ensuring the soldiers are well-equipped and supplied for any campaign. The Master of Ships commands the Order’s naval forces, safeguarding critical waterways and enabling swift movement across Atheria’s coasts. Finally, the Master of Men is responsible for recruitment and training, shaping the soldiers who form the backbone of the Legion Eternal.

  Together, the Legion Eternal serves as both sword and shield, protecting the Order’s interests and advancing its divine mission wherever resistance arises.

Lorebook: The Stolen Isles

The Stolen Isles

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Overview

The Agora Archipelago, often referred to as the Stolen Isles, is a chain of temperate, heavily-forested islands located off the eastern coast of the Empire of Durram. Its notorious history as a haven for pirates, smugglers, and slavers has given it a reputation as one of the most dangerous and lawless regions in Atheria. The name "Stolen Isles" was said to come from the belief that the archipelago was once part of nearby kingdoms but was "stolen" by the sea and dropped into the treacherous waters of The Drown, forever claimed by outlaws and criminals.

The archipelago’s tumultuous history is closely tied to the Dark Tide War, a conflict that saw the diminished Empire of Durram cede control of the islands to marauding pirates. Since then, the Agora Archipelago has become synonymous with illicit trade.

History

1641 to 1630 PSO: The Dark Tide War
The Agora Archipelago was once loosely governed by the Empire of Durram, but by 1641 PSO, the empire had weakened, and its control over its eastern waters was slipping. The Dark Tide War began when bands of pirates, drawn to the strategic value of the Agora islands, launched a series of raids on Durram’s coastal towns and trade routes. Unable to defend against these repeated attacks, the empire’s navy engaged in numerous skirmishes with the marauding fleets.

However, the pirate forces were swift and elusive, using the islands and the rough waters of The Drown to their advantage. Over the course of more than a decade, the Empire of Durram found itself outmaneuvered and overextended. By 1630 PSO, Durram’s naval strength had been all but eliminated, and the empire unofficially ceded control of the Agora Archipelago to the pirate lords who had claimed it.

1600 PSO: Rise of the Stolen Isles
Following the Dark Tide War, the Agora Archipelago became a notorious haven for all manner of criminals. Its strategic position in The Drown made it an ideal hub for illicit activities, particularly piracy and the slave trade. Pirates from across the seas flocked to the archipelago, establishing hidden strongholds where they could operate free from the reach of the Durram navy or any other nearby kingdoms.

Over time, the archipelago evolved into a waystation for smugglers, slavers, and mercenaries. The islands served as a neutral ground for these outlaws, who forged alliances, traded captives, and sold stolen goods with impunity.

Lorebook: The Four Fates

The Four Fates:

An Overview

LORE

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Overview

The Church of the Four Fates was founded circa 2,000 PSO (Pre-Sanctified Order), an era shrouded in both myth and fragmented history. According to legend, on the eve of what was likely to be a devastating battle between the warring kingdoms of Durram, four ethereal spirits - manifestations of the Fates themselves - appeared to King Gregor I of Valo. The Fates, whose forms shifted with each telling, warned Gregor of a looming catastrophe that would engulf not only his kingdom but the entirety of Durram if the fractured kingdoms did not make peace. Their message was clear: the continent had to be united under one banner, or its people would be swallowed by chaos and ruin.

History

“The earth trembled not, yet the stars fell,
for the hands that held them forgot their names.
Where rivers end, they found no mouth,
only the breath of forgotten winds.

Oathbound, they stood, neither stone nor sky,
beneath suns that never rose,
in the shadow of those who never lived.

Oris built a tower where none could dwell,
its walls made of whispers, its doors of silence,
and the sea of Neyara lapped at its base,
tasting what was, but never knowing.

Time unraveled in Ilvar’s web,
caught on the fray of an unseen needle,
each thread a song unheard.

Yet the Veil burned bright,
and Shaelas smiled,
for what was, was never whole.”

- Excerpt from The Song of the First Silence

The story of King Gregor's fateful encounter varies depending on who tells it. Some accounts say the Fates appeared to him as formless whispers on the wind; others describe them as glowing, spectral figures that moved like shadows across the walls of his tent. In all versions, however, they shared the same warning - an ominous glimpse of a future consumed by war and suffering. It is said that the Fates themselves revealed that the chaos Gregor feared was just the beginning, and only through unification could Durram withstand the trials that lay ahead.

In the days following the vision, Gregor summoned his closest advisors and spiritual leaders to his side, though he reportedly kept the full details of the vision to himself. For four days and nights, Gregor meditated in solitude, seeking the counsel of the Fates in private. Each Fate, it is said, visited him in turn, imparting their own wisdom and guidance:

Ilvar, The Weaver, was the first to appear. He revealed the intricate web of fate that bound Durram together - a tapestry of lives, destinies, and choices. In his hands, the future was a thread pulled tight, and Gregor saw both the unrelenting march of time and the consequences of every path he might choose. It was Ilvar who made him understand that leadership was more than just personal ambition - it was about ensuring the right choices were made for the greater good of all.

Neyara, The Tidebearer, came next, bringing with her the weight of life's cycles - birth, death, renewal, and decay. She showed Gregor visions of the endless wars that had plagued the kingdoms, the rise and fall of rulers, and the blood-stained earth of countless battlefields. Neyara made Gregor see that war, though a constant, could also be tempered - that peace, though temporary, was part of the cycle that must be maintained to preserve life.

Oris, The Silent Architect, appeared as a figure bathed in silvery starlight, his hands tracing the invisible foundations of the world itself. He whispered to Gregor of the structures that would be needed - not only castles and roads but laws, treaties, and alliances. Oris granted Gregor the knowledge to build something greater than a fleeting empire - he would build a lasting union, one shaped by fairness, logic, and the careful arrangement of power. His presence cemented the idea that only through careful, deliberate design could Durram be truly united.

Finally, Shaelas, The Veiled Flame, came to Gregor in the dead of night, their presence like a sudden storm, a flickering light in the darkness. They represented the force of change, the disruption of the status quo, and the need for revolution. Shaelas inspired Gregor to act swiftly and decisively, for the future of the continent could not wait for diplomacy alone. It was Shaelas’ words that sparked his conviction to break old traditions and reshape the political landscape of Durram in ways that had never been done before.

And so, when Gregor emerged from isolation, he declared the formation of the Church of the Four Fates, a new spiritual and political institution meant to serve as a guiding hand for the realm. More than just a religious order, the Church became a powerful force that influenced treaties, brokered alliances, and ensured that the Fates' will was honored in all matters of governance, war, and peace. Fatekeepers, priests and priestesses dedicated to each Fate, were appointed to advise rulers, serve as mediators in disputes, and interpret the oft-illusive will of the Fates. They acted not only as spiritual guides but also as political advisors, gaining significant influence in the courts of kings and queens across the continent.

Influence and Impact

The Church’s doctrine, deeply intertwined with the myth of Gregor's vision, held that the Fates did not merely observe the world - they actively shaped it, guiding rulers and shaping events to maintain a delicate balance. Their influence was not to be questioned but followed, for to stray from the path woven by them was to invite disaster. Ilvar's threads of destiny could be twisted or severed, Neyara's cycle of life and death could be thrown into disarray, Oris's careful designs could crumble, and Shaelas's flame of change could either burn away the old or ignite uncontrollable chaos.

As the Church grew in power, so did its reach. Temples dedicated to each Fate rose across the land, each grander than the last, becoming centers of both worship and political power. The Fatekeepers established schools where the children of nobles were taught not only the doctrines of the Church but also the arts of statecraft, ensuring that future leaders would be loyal to the Fates and their designs. This intertwining of spiritual and political power gave the Church control over many aspects of life in Durram and beyond.

Over the centuries, the myth of the Four Fates' appearance to King Gregor evolved into a central pillar of faith, with each generation of rulers looking to the Church for guidance. Though the details of the original vision have been debated by scholars and theologians for millennia, the impact of the Church on the world of Atheria remains undeniable. To this day, many kingdoms still look to the Fates for direction, and the Church of the Four Fates continues to shape the destiny of the realm, constantly attempting (and often failing) to balance the will of the divine with the ambitions of men.

Lorebook: Mageflame

On the Origins and
Uses of Mageflame

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Mageflame, or magelight as it is sometimes called, was not, in fact, named for its discoverers - though credit for its initial creation lies with the alchemists of the Ma’sayifra Kingdom. Instead, its name was borne from the simple, grim truth that it burned mages particularly well. It burned everything well, to be sure. But for those who wielded magic, the flame is more than fire - it is suffering made manifest. Magelight clings closely to those touched by the arcane, igniting with a hunger that seems to feed on the very essence of magic itself.

Before ignition, mageflame resembles a thick, inky tar, dark blue in color and nearly opaque, a substance that seems to absorb light rather than reflect it. When the first alchemists prepared it, they took care to store it in iron or thick glass containers, for even a stray spark could transform the sluggish, tarry liquid into a bright and ravenous blaze. Upon being lit, mageflame burns with an unnatural brilliance, a blue so bright it casts its surroundings in cold, ghostly light. Its flames dance higher and more fiercely than common fire, refusing to be doused by water or dirt.

The earliest uses of magelight were less cruel, at least by design. Originally, alchemists of the Ma’sayifra Kingdom created it as a defensive measure, a means to secure their fortresses and outposts that dotted their growing empire. Poured down fortified walls or set to the tips of arrows and siege weapons, it clung to enemies and consumed siege engines alike. But as word spread of its particular effect on magic users, its purpose darkened.

Over the years, the Wardens and the High Marked of the Second Order have taken a perverse satisfaction in this fact, finding dark amusement in the nickname their liquid fire has earned. For them, mageflame is not just a tool of destruction, but a symbol of the divine retribution they believe they wield. It is a fire that does not simply consume. It purifies.

To be caught using magic - or even suspected of doing so - rarely leaves one with more than a few days to live. There is, of course, often a trial. The Second Order, for all its faults, can never be accused of failure to follow procedure.

The subject of any inquest is to be brought before a local Justicar, who presides over the hearing with all the gravity just such a position demands. Gathered with the Justicar may be various government officials - local magistrates, middling bureaucrats from some provincial hamlet, and, on occasion, a representative from whatever passes for a constabulary. Each is compelled to dutifully attest to their knowledge of the accused, recounting the events that led to this dire moment.

Testimonies are then reviewed, evidence weighed, and a disposition offered by the Justicar and whatever small council they kept. These councils - typically comprised of Redemptors, Diviners, and Imperators - wear titles that implied wisdom and authority, though in truth, they are often former Wardens themselves, more comfortable with an axe than with parchment. Their histories as soldiers of the faith made them swift in judgment, and even swifter in execution.

Occasionally, a local bishop-turned-Diviner might insinuate themselves into the council, securing a seat through favors paid to the Second Order - often in the form of a Writ of Remission or other well-placed tokens of gratitude made payable to the Justicar themself. Yet, despite these machinations, the outcome of any trial is almost never in doubt. Deliberations rarely last more than half a day, as they typically only mete out a single sentence: death.

To be sure, the doctrines of the Second Order speak oft of redemption - of offering apostates and heretics a path back to righteousness. The ruling Prefects regularly publish treatises that expound at great length upon the virtue of Redemption. Prefect Elorien himself was well known for such proclamations:

"No soul is ever fully lost, for the Fates weave paths unseen. Redemption comes not through swift judgment but through allowing one to find their way back to the Sacral Thread. It is not for us to tear asunder what the Fates may yet mend. Offer mercy, for in mercy lies the true hand of the divine."

- Prefect Elorien, Sermons on the Fourfold Mercy

These words echo from pulpits across Atheria, reminding the faithful that even the most corrupt may be saved. But in practice, few Wardens care to listen. They know the truth better than most: mercy is dangerous. After all, magelight is not just a tool of fire - it serves as a reminder. A reminder that in the eyes of the Second Order, there is no sin greater than magic, and no fire too hot to cleanse it.

And so, even when trials are held, Wardens will do everything in their power to avoid bringing in anyone who might survive the ordeal with breath still in their lungs and skin still on their bones.

Lorebook: Bramburn

Bramburn
(Still Burns)

LORE

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Background

Bramburn is a town remembered not only for its fertile lands and rich woodland but for the infamous Slaughter at Bramburn, the final battle of the Second Inquisition. Once a modest but thriving stronghold, Bramburn was razed to the ground in 98 SO. The castle and its surrounding villages were destroyed, marking the end of the Second Inquisition and the Church’s decisive victory over accused practitioners of magic. The tale of Bramburn’s fall has since become a rallying cry for dissidents and anti-Inquisition movements, immortalized in the popular tavern song, Bramburn Still Burns.

Slaughter at Bramburn

The massacre that took place at Bramburn marked the end of the Second Inquisition. Inquisitors, acting under orders of Warden Crowley, sought to snuff out what they believed was one of the last major centers of magic resistance, and executed a full-scale assault on the town. The slaughter was indiscriminate - men, women, and children were cut down as heretics, the castle was set ablaze, and the surrounding villages were put to the torch. The fires burned for days, reducing the once-proud town to ash and ruin. Though the Church declared victory, the destruction of Bramburn became a symbol of the Inquisition's cruelty.

Bramburn Still Burns

The massacre inspired one of the most enduring pieces of anti-Inquisition folklore: the song Bramburn Still Burns. Sung in hushed tones by dissidents and those critical of the Church's actions, the song has kept alive the memory of the slaughter, serving as a reminder of the brutal lengths the Church went to in its quest for control.

Though banned in many regions controlled by the Church or the Second Order, the song has endured for centuries. Its lyrics speak of the flames that consumed the town, but also of the spirit that endures, defying the Inquisition's attempt to erase the past.

Original Lyrics:

O'er hill and river, past brook and thrush
The blood-soaked banner did wave
All alight with fear and dread
Of naught but lowly mage

Ol' Coward came with fire in eyes
And iron clenched in hand
He rode hard that starless night
To scorch our father's land

So lift up your voices
And pass 'round the ale,
For the Warden's long gone
But we still tell the tale

While the embers still smolder
We drink to the flames
So raise up your glasses
And toast their names

The smoke may've risen
The stones may've turned
But deep in our hearts
BRAMBURN STILL BURNS

Additional Stanza:

With ash in our throats
And fire for blood
We'll not turn back now, for
BRAMBURN STILL BURNS