Welcome I am trying something different (for me). All of my Salvania content is transitioning from a subscription model to a completely-free-holy-cow-how's-this-gonna-work model. So, there is no risk for you, my devoted cult member follower. Just sit back and consume, consume, consume. About Salvania Salvania is a medieval fantasy land populated by a colorful array of people, articulate animals, and strange beasts obscured and ominous in the forest mists. Walking through a typical marketplace, you might see... ...a druid and her apprentice discussing a way to improve the pixie community by planting more troll bane throughout the forest. ...a mixed group of folk gathered around two Dwarven immigrants having a friendly wager over who can tie a metal bar into the best pretzel knot. ...a wizard with elaborate eye makeup offering, "For a copper, I'll read your runes. For a silver, I'll make you a love potion. For a gold, I'll make your enemies...fewer." ...a
Flint pulled a rune from the linen bag and placed it on the table across from the painted woman. Her elaborately decorated wagon was cloudy with incense. Outside, someone was playing a melancholy tune on on a violin. A dog barked, and children squealed. She leaned forward, tiny bells sewn into her red silk head cloth jingled. One of her hands hovered over the tile carved from a troll's lower tusk, her many rings glinting in the candelight. The rune Ansuz was carved into the tile. She ran a painted fingernail over the design, a vertical line with two parallel lines angling off the right side. It reminded Flint of a squashed version of the Elvenari letter 'F'. "This is important." Her nail tapped the ivory. Her entire hand was covered in elaborate henna designs. "Ansuz is the 4th rune by the Northmen's reckoning, an auspicious number relating to the four directions of the wind." A raven watching from a nearby stand said, "Northman. Nor
With great care, Sir Bucket unrolled the fragile, stained vellum. It had a burned edge, obscuring some of the unicorn and tree artwork along the margins. The flowing script read: Go thee now unto the grove Fear not the wolf nor bear Go thee now unto the grove And hear the knowledge there. Seek the tree within the grove So small and green and free Seek the tree within the grove What does it say to thee? Close thy eyes within the grove Listen with thy heart Close thy eyes within the grove And on thy journey start. Let thy soul drift far away Ride high upon the wind Let thy soul drift far away Drink deep at journey's end. At the bottom, she could barely read a last bit, written in a different hand. I, Wizard Owenstanish of White River, do now write with my own hand on this third day of summer, the 16th year of Queen Juliska of Salvania. This incantanto being the first of five found within a clay pot buried in the southern desert. She rolled the scroll again and closed her eyes, pond
Comments
Post a Comment