Ages' Beginnings - An Arrow/Immaculate Reboot

With the exception of Jehoshua, who really should roll with Old English as a base language, those names are pretty terrible.
 
Like, what are people actually going to call it? Rallusian Kingswood is too long: the addition of an adjective implies other Kingswoods exist, but Rallusian is not something that rolls off the tongue easily. Just go with the Kingswood.

No one is going to call something the Sorrow River. Remember the Cape of Storms? There's a reason people renamed it the Cape of Good Hope (because no one will ever sail through "THE CAPE OF STORMS").

Sacred Lake? Why is it sacred? It's large enough that there's no way the entire thing is sacred: this is bigger than any of the Great Lakes, on par with inland seas like the Caspian.
 
I'm using a mashup of old-English/gaelic /welsh as a base for my names, although putting in a dash of random since I don't want to be slavishly bound to real-world terms.

-

Also, is not the "sacred lake" that tiny lake in the forest?
 
I'll be the first to admit I'm not the most creative person in the world. I'd be referring to it as the Kingswood, but seeing as how there's more than one king on Auronas, I didn't want to make a blanket statement.
 
Well, I looks like I was wrong about the size of the lake.

It's still a silly name.
 
The only thing I have to add is the name of the mountains running through the peninsula that House Massoul owns: The Whale's Spine, or simply the Spine.
 
The general region around river Tarsadyn and so on should be known as the Wildering.

Shadowbound, what do you think of the names in my region? I'm open to feedback and have explanations for all of it really, which I'll just put upfront.

Tarsadyn, Skagar, the old Tyregar dynasty borrows from a semi-Scandinavian vocalization and is pretty much remnants of when the Tyregars were ruling the region. The Araskamemni lived there too and has been another ethnicity entirely. Didn't help out when the Koleks showed up and injected a whole other ethnicity into the region. What binds them all together are common practices of the Old Religion that are somewhat different from Jehoshua's inception probably; but I guess it's because of its animist nature.

I myself like the map, but it's really hard to read.
 
The mountain chains upon which the House Arco is situated was once called Mons Susratoris. Now in more enlightened era it's called by the locals as the Whispering Mountains.

Note: Added a bit of fluff on the Broken God Cult, a heresy of the One Faith and the Sundered Knot.
 
The river in my realm is known as Reke.

As for the south mountains in my realm: Viši Kamen.

By the way I have the liberty of doing the coat of arms for the major Bogatstvon houses, with their house words.

Spoiler the houses of Bogatstvo's coat of arms, in alphabetical order :

House Dragic


House Jurich


House Kasun; note I am prepared to change the coat of arms if lions are not known to us yet...


House Radic


House Venetianer itself



House Vlahovic



House Wlakantchovski





By the way: what be the metal deposit distribution be? Just wondering about what mining industries should be held around Kamen, Zlato and the edges of the northern mountains that divide Srabija from Kæderith. Is there gold in the hills of Zlato?
 
Shadowbound said:
Well, I looks like I was wrong about the size of the lake.

It's still a silly name.
Click to expand...

Well, the lake is no longer sacred, especially with the rise of the Worship of the One. Only in the past, when the lords of the forest believed in the Old Gods, the lake was sacred. But it happens that, after so many generations being called Sacred Lake, the people got used to the name, so it is so called to this day, despite the protests of the High Priest.

In short, I prefer to name the lake basing myself on how the people call it, and not in his official name (which would be something like "Lords Lake"). I confess that I feared criticism regarding the chosen name to the river, Esthellen, but it seems the Sacred Lake won the day.
 
On second thought, I think I will be dropping from this. I am still quite busy with things in real life.
 
Thank u SK.

Please everyone, start thinking about turn zero orders. Is there any questions regarding what is expected?
 
:king:

Spoiler :
The High King was in a bad mood.

Armen Haadrade was in this way much unlike his deceased father. Where his father would make his displeasure alarmingly clear to everyone within (and, truth be told, well beyond) reasonable hearing distance, Armen was a quiet brooder more akin to the grandfather who united the Holds. Not that this made his anger any less dangerous. Armen was still very much a product of his highlander heritage, the descendant of brigands, rebels, and the most isolated of wilderness survivors. The type of people who not only survived, but had managed to thrive in a place that a large number of them had been banished to in order to kill them as painfully as possible. Most, nearly all, of those ancestors would be objectively "bad" people by the standards of this new, kinder, aristocratic time. Killers, thieves, rapists and raiders of opportunity often beyond necessity.

No, Armen's quiet anger was very, very dangerous.

Count Yrglar a' Monthod was one of the very few people who could correctly identify the signs of these moods and defuse them - and also a part of the even more exclusive club that could defy them and not fear the outcome. Yrglar "Dzogblood" had served all three generations of the Haadrade line, starting as so many highlanders did as a young, self-titled warrior of uncertain lineage who suddenly appeared in the mountains with nothing more than a knife, a few wounds, and no inclination to talk about his past. In Yrglar's case, he was lucky enough to firmly attach himself to the soon-to-be-ascending star of Jaarl Haadrade. Furthermore, he was loyal enough to become a captain and competent enough to survive it, meaning that today he was a rare old man among the realm.

Yrglar's duties had varied much over time, kings, and deaths, and his official titles were banal and manufactured just like everyone else's in the young kingdom of the Bangor Holds. Far from being a simple "Count of Northwest Bumwithers and Earl of the Nethers" or some such, his real claim would be "Problem Solver". In a less direct realm, "Spymaster". And, not to be humble, he was rather good at it. His efforts had no small contribution to the fact that the Bangor Holds still existed as a unified entity, and that a Haadrade arse still sat on the simple wooden chair that passed for the kingdom's throne.

Today, though, Yrglar was a simple messenger, bringing news in person that the High King would not want to hear but needed to listen to. To prove the point, he was going so far as to interrupt his liege during the most sacred of the Kingdom's official rituals: lunch.

The first reaction from his King as the Count entered the High King's Personal Eating Room and moved to sit at the High King's Personal Lunch Table was an immediate attempt to rise and exit the room via the other door in the room. The aristocracy of the Holds, being equal parts contemptuous of their new titles and secretly excited over them, had crafted equally banal epithets for virtually everything even tangentially related to the kingdom's bureaucracy. The High Kings' continual efforts to dispose of the titles were one of their few dismal and total defeats.

"I don't want to hear it, Yrg, it can wait until this afternoon's Business Reception Time."

"Sire, it can't wait, and furthermore you already canceled today's Business Reception Time so that you could visit Lady Emele, play with the dogs, and execute that Telaaran we locked in the dungeon for theft," Yrglar patiently replied. He sat down at the table, reached for a piece of fried potato, and waited.

"Well then, if that's what it says in the High King's Appointment Calendar, that's what is going to happen. Coincidentally, I must be going, as I am almost late for my After Lunch Chamber Pot Time. Mustn't mess with the schedule, Yrg!" The king was almost at the door, moving as fast as possible to not be visibly hurried.

"I believe your efforts to change the Appointment Calendar are what led you here before you sent the good Lord Gronninginining to the gallows." The Count continued, "the king is dead, sire."

The last words caused Armen to pause at the door. Still in a somewhat forced tone of cheerfulness, he replied, "there are lots of kings, Yrg. I'm sure one fewer won't bother me."

"Sire, the Hallowed King is dead. With no heir."

Armen swore, and reluctantly turned back to sit at the table. "The teenaged ? A shame, I suppose, but not that big of a deal up here. Emperors always seem to have short lifespans."

"Not this short. The boy died within seconds of coronation, poisoned with his crown. Some cultists of the far southeast, apparently." Yrglar shifted forward, taking a more attentive stance. "The official message is on its way here by boat, should be halfway up the Sami by now. We're just about the last to hear about it up here - he's been dead for three weeks already. Even the rumors haven't started up yet. "

The king took his seat with a sigh, one hand to his forehead. "No heir? Wasn't there a half-sister married off to a duke in Caiden?"

"An aunt, actually. Dead six months ago in childbirth, a stillborn."

"A cousin banished in Langro? And that priest in the Wildering?"

"A bastard, totally disinherited - the official ruling was this last summer. And that particular cult disavows all possessions in favor of drinking snake venom and fishing for pearls. They're both fourth cousins anyway, too far down the line to matter." Yrglar shook his head. "You know this already, Armen, we knew it could be bad."

The king was sitting back, head straight up, staring at invisible patterns on the ceiling as he thought. A minute passed before he spoke again.

"It's too early, Yrg. We're not ready." The king said. "And we're still the lucky ones. South of the Terrin..."

Another pause.

"Sire, I -"

"I'll cancel the time with the dogs and let the executioner handle the thief. Lady Emele I'll postpone until later tonight, I'll want her and Ghail in the council room anyway. If you haven't already, send messages to every noble within a day's ride summoning them here in two days. Get the council rounded up, we need to come up with something official before those rumors reach up here. I need my After Lunch Chamber Pot Time, I'll meet you there in ten minutes." The High King rose and once again walked to the door. "We're not ready yet, Yrg. But then again, neither is anyone else."

The High King wasn't in a bad mood anymore.
 
Spoiler :
Following the Heart

The Arots killed the King!

King Diomenes of Aelrich stared with his jaws agape at the fallen body of the boy-would-be-king. Diomenes had traveled long for this coronation, grumbling all the way about having to serve some half-wit prince still wet behind the damned ear and yet-here it was. The boy was dead before he even got to be king. He felt sorry for the boy. He really did. As the guards shoved and pushed the guests away and out of the room, King Diomenes cast one regretful look towards the body, wondering what kind of a man that he would have grown into.

But as the doors to the coronation chamber shut behind him, the implications of the boy’s death began to hit him. There were no other heirs to the throne. The continent was now without a king nor a heir. Anybody, from his enemies to his friends, could become the new King of All Auronas. Some hidden away bastard son of the boy’s father could become the new king of Auronas. He could be the new King of Auronas. Already he could see the gears of war turn, promising bloodshed in the very near future.

He almost ran back to where the rest of his entourage was waiting for him. They had to return to Aelrich. He had letters to write, messengers to send, hands to shake, swords to sharpen. The House of Uradal may or may not become the Hallowed King of Auronas, but damned if it will stay quiet at this time. The House of Uradal now had to prepare for war.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Whispers from the Past:

Arot killed the King.

Chancellor Rokavam of House Arco read the reports impassively before handing it back to the spy. He had to think.

“There’s not much you can do in this situation, child,” the Oracle told him. “The sign of the Heart, the Comet, shines brightly, inciting the ambitions of men. Lord Granter of Secrets, the Whispers, always teaches us caution. That is what I now recommend. However note this. This marks the beginning of a new age. Be careful of your actions now, my child. Do not react too quickly to the King’s death. The actions of others will certainly create opportunities for you in the near future.”

The Oracle’s words stayed with him for a while as he left the dark shrine to the Lord carved into the mountain. Caution. If there was a word for House Arco, it would have been Caution. Caution was what saved the Midoans living under House Arco where the rest were killed by the Aelrichi. The old priests and sorcerers living in hidden burrows in the lands of House Arco shed tears everyday knowing of the bastardized faith in the old lands of Midoans and the actions of the barbarians living and believing in it. The Oracles always said that time was not right for the return of the old religion. Perhaps the prevalence of the Reach was a sign that now indeed was the time.

Chancellor Rokavam smiled as he journeyed down into the dungeons to pick out new sacrifices for his god, Granter of Secrets. Yes, perhaps it was time for the Midoans to take its proper place in the politics of this nation.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Stories of Today

“I tire of your stories, father,” Alexandros Leng, just a boy barely a step into adulthood, said. “The stories of our ancestors and their conquest of Aelrich bore me. Why must we stay here? Why should we not go on new adventures? Write new stories for our children?”

Father Leng of the household, Archduke Acaius Leng sighed. “Out of gratitude to the kings of Aelrich,” he said. “We serve the Kings of Aelrich. You have not seen war, boy. If you had seen war, you would be grateful for the peace that they created. Perhaps it is good that no more stories are told.”

“Father, I do not wish to die having done nothing in my life. How will people remember me afterwards?”

“As a kind and just ruler for the people, fair to all,” his father said. “All those people who love you and all those whom you have cared for shall keep you in their hearts. So what if strangers never hear your name? What do you care about how they feel? The Custodian of Memories shall always keep your story. It will not chill the blood like the stories of your ancestors, but it shall be a beautiful story nevertheless.”

Alexandros was deep in thought. He knew that he could not go on adventures without a host and the permission of the King of Aelrich. He could not bear to believe that his father right. His soul yearned to create stories for people to remember him by. Inside his chest a little heart of ambition beat. He could feel it in his bones. His spine. He was destined for something greater. He could feel it. He just needed a sign. A message that his life will not be as boring as his father’s. That he would be remembered not only by the people of his lands, but all over Auronas. He prayed to the Lord of Ambition. His will to achieve was great. The burning soul inside him urged him forwards. He just needed a chance.

And when the letter from the King arrived, he knew that his prayers had been listened to.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Calm Souls

“Eh, what? War? Against whom?”

“The King of Uradal does not know yet,” the messenger said in a monotone voice that only the royal messenger could speak in. “However in a time of great instability it is prudent, the King believes, that a proper navy and army to be readied in case we are called upon to serve a liege with the strongest claims.”

“Nonexistent,” Lord Quertino of Cephalos said dismissively, waving his hand. “You mean insert Diomenes into the throne of Auronas.”

“He has not said that to be his intention.”

“Whatever,” Quertino said, waving his hand dismissively again. “Oh well, you are dismissed. You can tell your king that the League will support him, as always. Just not draft too many merchant ships. We need those, you know.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Oh, and next time you are here…” Lord Quertino handed the messenger a bag of coins. “Could you bring some wine from the capital the next time? Thank you.”

As the messenger departed, Lord Quertino let out a swear. This was going to derail his naval plans for a while with most of his ships being locked in the great bay of Terrim. Oh well, such disturbances are expected once in a while. He tapped at his forehead absentmindedly. “Reach of Arot…Arot…Arot…where have I heard that name before…. Oh!” He remembered! One of his cousin used to be in with those crowd. Just a bunch of hooligans he always thought them to be. And they killed the king? Security never was what it used to be anymore.

Lord Quertino sat down upon his couch. It was time for an afternoon reading.
 
Spoiler :
Dark Days will be Brewing

It was a pleasant night at House Marshwell manor. Lord Fruhorn was have a nice dinner with is lovely wife ad children until a banging was heard at the door.

Bang Bang Bang Bang Bang! rang from the door which was so loud that it could be heard thought the building.

Lord Fruhorn motion for his servant to get the door. A few second later the servant come back with a messenger following behind. Lord Fruhorn get up from his chair and begin to speak.

"Well I surly was not expecting any visitors this late at night when I having dinner with my family."

"I am sorry my Lord for ruining your dinner but I have some urgent news that you have to hear." said the messenger.

"Oh let me guest it another bandit problem, or wait maybe it the farmers losing sheep to some wolf packs, or......." said Lord Fruhorn in a sarcastic tone while his family started giggling.

"The Hallow King is dead my Lord" said the messenger.

The whole room fell silent when they heard the news. All staring at the messenger with unrelieved faces.

"How did this happen?" said Lord Fruhorn.

"It was from poison my Lord. The people believed that the strange cult "The Arots" that killed the King during is coronation." said the messenger.

Lord Fruhorn whisper in his wife ear and the Queen shake her head and motion for the rest of the family to leave the area.

"Do the other houses know about this?" said Lord Fruhorn.

"It was house Walaber that found out this information first." said the messenger.

"Listen carefully I want you to deliver a message to the other houses for a meeting on this matter." said said Lord Fruhorn.

"Yes my Lord." said the messenger as he walks out the door closing it behind him.

Lord Fruhorn goes to one of the window staring in the direction of Copperhead.

"I fear that dark days are coming to these lands and it only going to get darker isn't it?"


 
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