I was talking about this in the release of High Valor  that I wanted to do a horror-fantasy world. So I've begun working on it. I thought I'd share stuff here that won't likely appear elsewhere (and maybe even in the book itself.

It's over a year out or more, H&S2E comes first, as does EON and Derelict Delvers, but that's alright I like feedback and brainstorming ideas a lot.


Map:


Unlikely to appear in any book because of the nature of the changes to the world that happened before game play, this it during the age of exploration, before darkness fell.



The Lord of Whispers is believed to be former Baron Magnus Von Kharzsk sometimes known as the Terror of the East, His rules Ransylv, by grant of the Holy Triune Empire. He vanished after retiring to his home Castle Kharzsk, on  Lake Huzzusk, tired of bloody warfare. His diary fell into others hands and it along with other writings will be the guide to the world as we know it.

Magnus Von Kharzsk 8-10-1458


" I grow weary of wars, but they grow, darker and more heated, as the years pass, the Ghazir's black hearts do not relent, and their ways are an abomination on mankind, yet I would know peace with them if possible. The rumors are they shall not end their wars until we are wiped off the world, or convert to the worship of their fiery lord. I feel disconnection from any faith, as none hold me fast anymore, should we worship any great idea, when we are the ones who trudge through innards and war with one another for their differences?"


"They the Ghazir claim us unbelievers, unfaithful and infidel, yet it is they that speak as heathens to the Triune God. The Old Empire held them at bay, yet now they fall upon us all, even the Tzars of Ussurrus. The Tzars guns speak often to the heathen but it is the cold that takes the Ghazir the end."


"I must find a way to bring peace, a way to see what stirs the wars unending in mankind's hearts. Only then perhaps may we lay aside our arms and rest."


Magnus Von Kharzk 11-18-1461


"I've the means at last, I think to end our wars. I have discovered old writings in terrible places, bleak ruins of other ages crumbled all but to sand. The writings are magics of great power, and I dare not dabble in them, I must face them and study them until I am sure they will let me bring peace to man, may heaven and the Triune aid me in this, for it is only by his will that I will master this and make the difference I seek.."


Magnus Von Kharzsk 2-6-1466


"The terrors grow, nightly I hear the voices of things in my sleep. Not those of men, but of praeternatural things that were old when even the Triune's hand worked miracles in Eoshua, the Triune seem powerless before these foul abominations of the mind. I must have faith, I must hold the door. I am...what I must be, and alone this will be my burden."


Magnus Von Kharzsk 4-6-1466

"I have looked into the face of the evil greater than any devil. greater than the Adversary that wrestled the Triune incarnate..It is indescribable, no mortal mind can fathom what fell form it holds, it is wrought in hideousness of nightmares, and it is coming through the gate! A gate that must be shut, must be sealed. All the magics I have done, all the perversion which my mind and hands have done, and it laughs oh it laughs with glee! It comes and consumes, it does not want worship, or faith, it wants our fall into madness into sickness more profound than evil temptations the book has warned us of...I did not see it, I did not understand. The gate was opened long ago, and it is I, I who alone that can see it, that knows of it! I must shut it, I must find the means.




On 4-10-1466, Magnus Von Kharzsk disapeared from his locked room.


Jeremiah Alder, 6-13-1466

"Children dreamt of a foul thing, and I have tried to stamp it out. It speaks to me of black magic, but others who know of magic say it is harmless, a child's imagination, The telling is like this: If one goes into a dark room with a mirror carrying only a candle, they may whisper to their reflection these words: "Come Lord of Whispers! Come Lord of Whispers! Come Lord of Whispers! Come Forth!" then if he hears you calling, the Lord of Whispers comes and snatches the child! I caught little Sylvia doing this in the dressing room. During the day, she was too frightened to do so in the dark. Thank the Triune. I do not know if has any power, but I'll keep watch and keep my own children from such mischief. I should do it, embolden my heart, and carry a loaded pistol. I don't think any such supernatural thing would be happy with a blessed ball in its brain pan!"



A Cryer on the steps of the town square: "It is hear by ordered that Henrik Alder, and Elizabeth Alder forth with attend on June the nineteen in the year of the Sovereign Triune fourteen hundred and sixty six to a visit to the mayor's home and give evidence to the mayor and his witness as to the strange events and circumstances leading up to the death of their eldest married son, Jeremiah Alder, and the disappearance of his wife Fianne and their children, Joshua, a boy, and Sylvia a girl. All others should await their summons to the mayor for further inquiry."


Mourngyre was a world once wrapped in wonders. Explorers had mapped far away lands for gold, and spice. Castles and Kingdoms fell to Empires and Colonies. Then the Lord of Whispers appeared on the edges

of myth and rumor, children at first teasing their fears with his name. Yet one day the sun drifted dimly across the sky. Clouds gathered listlessly. When night fell it was chill, and harsh, even in places it should not
be so cold. The moon stared down, gibbous and watching, Red like blood as it was eclipsed by the world. The stars winked out, one by one, as if something black consumed then. The moon became sheltered by the clouds, and the seething fog rose up

in all the world, twisting and terrifying. Traveling more than a days distance from a village or city became almost impossible as rains and fog hampered the way, and things haunted the mists. Dead men rose up, and spoke, and all faith trembled as the Lord of Whispers passed over the world. Now travel is possible, but rare. There are many dangers in the wilderness.

Mourngyri travel, and bring stories of things beyond the mists, offering their tinkering, weaving and songs, but few will take them up on their offers. They are treated as thieves, and vermin, and driven off by most. They seem to  know something. They should be feared, says the voice in the back of others minds. They sing and  they dance in their ways to bring forth joy again, yet only briefly do they ignite in themselves this moment that fights the dark in the world about them.

The Triune Church:

The Triune Church is essentially  (Eastern Orhodox?) Catholocism with the Trinity a bit more prevalent in the speech and perception of those who worship. I was thinking of it being represented by a three petaled flower (with a stamen reaching towards heaven.) I would like to sort of mud it up a bit so its drawing to Catholocism isn't quite so clear. Complex Rituals, and following that path are part of the Church, but they are not a part of faith.


Outside the Triune Church are the Reformers, who exist in a few locales, they are more about the faith than the rituals, and considered excommunicated for their heresy.



Arts of the Damned

High Magic

High Magic is the tool by which some long ago ancient force opened the gate, and that very act has left a trail of corruption and darkness within it. The more High Magic is used, the more risk there is in touching that tainted pool, like tar which sticks to ones soul and cannot be brushed off. As more and more is drawn forth the more the magic corrupts and twists the wielder and their desires to the ends of the Lord of Whispers. High Magic is essentially anything you'd see in standard fantasy magic that is a spell direct and noticeable. Throwing fireballs, calling lightning, teleporting across the landscape. It is all inherently blackened. Those challenges that usually cause setbacks in High Valor? Now they reach out and do the same to others. You launch a fireball to burn an enemy? Good, but the fire will lash wildly out of control and blow back on those you aim to help if you are unwary. Teleport across the land becomes like ripping a hole into a living organism, squelching, and bleeding, you pass through one place and feel it crowding in around you like a wet sick tumor, then you are there, thankfully, and hope nothing comes with you.


Low Magic

Low Magic is a little bit more powerful than in High Valor, its more consistent, but also more coincidental. You can call a gentle breeze to knock over a tree to breach a chasm as a bridge. You cannot call up a lasting stone bridge from nothing (that would be High Magic.) You might throw fire by holding a torch and drawing the flame from one point to another, but simply snapping your fingers and making it "real" is again High Magic. Subtlety is ones goal, the more Low magic can be passed off as a trick of the light, or into some long practiced thing (stirring up alchemical concoctions), or drawing subtle connections (reading tea leaves for answers), or so on the better.


Faith

Despite the explosion of the Triune Church, and the many devout worshipers in Mourngyre the acts of faith are a greater leap beyond all but the most devout can manage. Miracles are unknown, oh legends exist, and religious faith says they have happened, but the doors of power are shut. Man must stand or fall on his own. Faith resides though and can protect man gird him from harm, but it is not a tool to call upon, only profound acts of faith allow one to thwart evil, and that is as it should be Blessing are all that remain to mankind, and they are subtle and like Low magic, could be circumstance, but for a tiny bit of reach of faith that says more has gone on here.