The Blessed - Merrows

A great company of Milesians were blessed of the goddess and became the Merrows—a people of the waters, who dwell therein and build magnificent cities beneath the sea. These blessed Milesians were set under divine protection.

The Assault: Another great company of Milesians did assail the divinely protected Merrows—an assault upon those under divine protection that brought consequences most terrible.

Divine Protection Strengthened: In answer to this assault, the goddess did grant unto the Merrows further protections:

• Regeneration - The power to heal and recover from wounds
• The Sinking City - Should any company essay to make war upon the Merrows again, their city sinks beneath the sea, rendering them far harder to assail and ensuring such violence should be far less like to prosper

These divine safeguards meant the deities need trouble themselves no more so greatly for the Merrows' sake—for they possessed both the means to defend themselves and a protection against aggression that came unbidden.

The Exiles - Beast Tribes

The company of Milesians who had assailed the divinely protected Merrows were cursed as their punishment, and transformed—part Milesian, part beast, their form changing with the Moon's Phases. They reproduced, and came to be known as the Beast Tribes, forever nomadic, forever marked, their curse a consequence of having assailed those under divine protection.

🛸 The Outsiders

The Ternians possess but one word—outsiders—for aught that is not of their own world: their term for "alien." Two peoples bear that word most often, the Abremics and the Aethers, though scarce could two be less alike.

💠 The Aethers — Protectors of Ternia

The Aethers are beings symbiotic, native unto Aesir. It was the Aethers who first did fight and overthrow the Gregori, sealing the greater part of them away beneath Tartarus—yet a handful escaped to Allaweh, where now they serve Luther, and did help him fashion the Abremics. The Aethers have stood as Ternia's protectors ever since, arrayed against Luther, the Gregori yet remaining, and the Abremics alike.

The Sabotage of the Abremics

Abremic emissaries, as they are remembered in the fragmentary accounts of the Milesians — their bodies fused with circuitry yet living, crowned about with halos of drifting glyph-light. Whether these be true likenesses, or but the shape which dread and awe have lent them down the centuries, no man can say.

The Abremics have no bodily form of their own—beings of entropy, made and not born, bound in service unto Luther. Long ago they wrought a crime that would reshape Ternia's destiny for evermore: they gave unto the Milesians technology ere they were ready for it—of full intent setting them up to fail in their duties as stewards.

No accident was it, the technology they chose. Luther's people—the handful of Gregori who had escaped to Allaweh—had stumbled upon the Sopp's dimension, the Fungal Layer, and found it lying strangely near to Ternia's own. The Abremics gave the Milesians the very technology needed to force a joining between the two, and did but watch to see what would follow. Ternians were never meant to survive it—they were an experiment.

When the Milesians, as was inevitable, misused this untimely technology, reality itself was torn asunder. The merging of dimensions with the Fungal Layer, the Sopp's enslavement, the transformation of Milesians into Humes—all of it traces back to Abremic interference. The forced joining hastened technology on both sides of the merge so swiftly that the Sopp had no true choice but to seize the reins of it—the Underspell was their answer to a problem run quite out of hand, no plan long held in waiting. It proved compatible enough to serve, and useful enough that the Sopp turned the greater part of their attention elsewhere for the two centuries and a half that it ran. That is precisely what the Valkyries and Fomorians were for—living moderators who might run the Underspell from day to day, that the Sopp themselves might remain withdrawn from that dimension's physical plane, rather than tend it with their own hand.

The Tapestry, the web of this Universe which the Father of Art and Time did weave, standeth not alone of its kind—it is held to be but one among many such lesser dimensions, each a small universe entire unto itself. Within the Tapestry, gravity is no simple matter of mass alone, but is bound as much to Destiny.

Every world beareth its own World Tree—Cyria is Ternia's own—and it is the Tree, not the planet's bulk, to which gravity in truth giveth answer. Woven through and about every world are World Streams: currents bound fast to Destiny, not unlike ley lines, which flow from and about each Tree. The nearer a place lieth unto a World Stream, the less doth gravity hold it down—open ground may run strangely light hard by one, while land far from any Stream lieth heavy and ordinary still.

Yet at Cyria's roots hath no World Stream ever been found. What waiteth there instead are the Obsidian Spires—jagged towers of black stone, wherein Ternia's memory is held, described more fully among the Three Realms of Cyria.

🌌 Wherefore Ternia's Auroras Are Different

Ternia possesseth a magnetosphere both strong and somewhat wayward—no clean dipole as Earth's, but a field woven of many poles, that guideth light rather than concealing it.

🌠 How This Appeareth

Auroras are no rare event upon Ternia. They appear on several nights each week in winter, oft visible even near the equator—subtle in summer, brilliant in winter. Folk do not point and gasp at them; they are a beauty of the background, a weather of the heart, a thing held common to all.

Of Direction and Layer:

• Bands stretch from horizon unto horizon
• Colors shift as Phos waxeth and waneth
• Many layers visible at differing heights
• In the cities: reflected in the canals, framed by spires, filtered through clouds
• In the deserts: a sharp, crystalline light—clarity well nigh painful

🔮 Consequences Upon Custom

Auroras, being common, reshape society thus:

• Omens, clocks, and signals: Certain doings undertaken only beneath particular colors
• Matters political and religious timed unto the displays
• Festivals of winter lit from above
• Beast Tribes answer strongly when the display is at its height
• Priestesses read meaning in direction, color, and rhythm
• Gorians essay to measure them—and fail

🌐 The Law of Natures

The Crown-face belongeth to the Tuatha and the Valkyries. The Root-face belongeth to the Fir Bolg and the Fomorians. Neither pole is so much a secret as a place the wrong sort simply cannot come at: a Fir Bolg or a Fomorian may not set foot upon the Crown-face, nor a Tuatha or a Valkyrie upon the Root-face. It is no wall of stone—it is a wall of what they are. The Tree will not bear the wrong nature through its own spine.

Tuatha and Fir Bolg, being mortal, do mostly make little of the matter—they may already live, farm, and wander freely across the four trunk-face continents, so the ban costeth them small. Valkyries and Fomorians take it otherwise. Being younger than the Tuatha and Fir Bolg, and commonly not corporeal as mortals are, both stand wroth at the restriction, and scheme without cease to reach the pole denied them—Valkyries dreaming upon the Root-face, Fomorians upon the Crown—though neither hath ever come there in any wise save as pressure, omen, or ill weather.

🌊 Of the Triangles

Out upon the open ocean, where three of Ternia's faces meet, the water doth not simply blend nor slosh between them. It standeth up instead into a towering, permanent wall of tide, held fast by the world's own strange shape—sailors call the place itself a Triangle. To cross one by ship is a thing well nigh never attempted, and rarely survived. Nymphs, with their wings and their sense of direction unmatched, are the ones who cross them with any regularity, flying the Triangles as a bird readeth the wind.

🗺️ Map of Ternia

⚖️ Of the Twofold Reckoning of Time

Ternia being possessed of ~23.4° axial tilt, her clocks and calendars do follow two tracks running ever side by side:

The common speech of Ternia reckons time by four measures: blinks, moons, suns, and eras.

• Blinks — the least of the common measures, being near a minute's span. "In such time as one hath need to blink anew" is a familiar Ternian manner of saying "in about a minute."
• Moons — thus do Ternians name the months, each being one full cycle of the calendar's appointed month.
• Suns — thus do Ternians name the years, each a full turning of the Ephemeris.
• Eras — Ternia's word for epochs, those great and sweeping ages of her history (the Age of Dragons, the Underspell, and such like), each stretching over centuries rather than single suns.

📅 Of the Six Days of the Week

✨ Eadrana — the magical seventh day, appearing only in the last week of every other month (reckoning from Samhna). Eadrana is kept throughout Ternia as a day of magic and singular significance—and it is the one night whereon the Lower Moon, Tiu, doth ever show herself, ever full, ere she vanisheth from the sky again for months.

Where the auroras loosen Ternia's "physics," rendering magic the more plentiful, Eadrana worketh a stranger thing still—the very laws of magic grow mysterious and unpredictable for that single day. Orbs that behave with faithfulness every other day of the year may twist, overreach, or misfire in wise even seasoned casters cannot account for. Most practiced mystics will simply forbear from casting aught of consequence upon Eadrana, and the more superstitious hold any magic wrought that day to be a kind of wager.

🌙 Of the Two Moons and the Curse of the Beast Tribes

Ayla (Upper Moon): Bright, and rich with mineral light. She passeth through five phases of 6 days each—a steady cycle of 30 days—and is ever visible.

Tiu (Lower Moon): Cold, dim of light, and magical rather than mechanical in her nature—unseen the whole year through until Eadrana nights, whereon she appeareth full, and is seen at once from every part of Ternia.

Double Full Moons: Eadrana nights come five times in the year, yet Ayla's own cycle of 30 days driveth against the calendar, so that she is seldom in her fullness to greet Tiu when Tiu appeareth. When she is so (roughly once in every 2-3 years), the Beast Tribes lose all mastery of themselves and run rampant. This rare convergence the astronomers track with great care, and it is feared the whole of Ternia over.

Hidden lore: Tiu is, in truth, no moon at all. That which Ternians behold on Eadrana nights is said to be Ternia's own planetary core, reaching outward through some strange and inward projection to settle a while against the atmosphere—one single image cast unto every eye turned skyward at once, in every part of Ternia, ere it withdraweth again. Beheld from beyond the world itself, out in the darkness of space, the projection should seem, for all the world, a second moon in its own right—and only they who know the truth could tell the difference. Few there are who know this; fewer still who believe it.

From the breath of the First Voice was the Seed sown.
From the Seed sprang all words,
From all words, understanding,
From understanding, the world.

The elements are the syllables. The symbols are the script. Four cities. One Seed. All Speech.

Mitu — The Lost Tradition of Oral Speech

Unlike unto the other registers, Mitu was wholly oral—3,000 sigils, each encoding a complete concept of magic, never once committed unto writing. Sheena, the Draconic Oracle, did set it down in VAGUS ere her people ascended, thereby preserving what else had been lost for evermore.

📜 A Chronicle of the Ages

In sum, history recorded runneth some 2,500 years and more

Let a man but step within a Dragon Temple, or what ruin remaineth of one, and the first thing he shall mark is a sound—a quiet, steady pulsing hum, felt in the breast no less than heard by the ear. Then cometh the light: dim and low and kindled of itself, rising unbidden the moment one crosseth the threshold. The source is no illusion, but certain crystal "lamps" set into the walls; yet let one be taken away, and the light in it dieth that very instant, and returneth nevermore. Whatsoever Dragon Temple burneth bright this day oweth it wholly to those lamps no soul hath yet dared to touch.

No chart of a Dragon Temple holdeth true for long, for the chambers within do rearrange themselves betwixt one visit and the next, so that no two companies of explorers ever walk the selfsame halls twice. Many of these chambers, it is found, are tenanted by mighty Astral Beasts, left there of old, whether by the Draconians' own craft or their summonings. Betwixt the shifting of the halls and that which waiteth within them, deep exploring is counseled against for all save the stoutest warriors; for most who venture past the outer halls in search of more do never come forth again.

Every Dragon Temple beareth some one element as its master, baked into the very stone of the ruin—so that its perils, its guardian Astral Beasts, and the trials set through its shifting chambers do all incline toward that element's nature. A delegate whose own strength lieth in the like element findeth the passage far the easier for it, more than one whose gift lieth elsewhere entire; and the Guild holdeth this so weighty a matter that expeditions of high rank are commonly mustered about whichever elemental specialists best suit the temple in question.

The Fracturing of Order

At the first the stewards knew well their charge, and did their office tolerably. But the Tuatha and Fir Bolg fell to quarreling and feuding one with the other, caring nothing for the keeping of the balance.

Whereby the heavier burden fell upon the Milesians, who labored to hold their stewardship while the other two factions warred; until at the last the strain grew past bearing, and the Milesians themselves fell to strife amongst their own.

🍄 Of Life Within the Spell

A Dreamer adrift within the Underspell—his consciousness rendered as threads of light, woven through the Mycelium Layer.

Within the Underspell, the enslaved races—called Dreamers—might live out whole lives, know the use of all their senses, and, dying, be reincarnated in new forms. By this contrivance the Sopp did force the evolution of those races who had wronged them, guiding them toward... some end of their own devising. What that ultimate purpose might be remaineth, to this day, a mystery.

• Dreamers might, through deeds of great renown, become Heroes
• Heroes might be chosen to ascend as Gods and Goddesses
• The Valkyrie Project—sentient programs of the Sopp's own making—did guide this evolution

🏛️ Neamhthír and Abbaddon — The Twin Cities

The Tragic Irony

The Fianna—warriors of great renown, who train within the Underground—know nothing of how they were once the Reclaimers, fighters of the resistance who battled the Sopp for their freedom. Now, unknowing, they train amid the decayed remnants of that very system which once they strove to bring to ruin.

The Metahackers forget nothing, but remember all things past. They behold the children of their old allies doing service unto the system, nothing suspecting it; and the tension thereof is scarce to be borne—yet who, being told it, would credit them?

What Setteth Ternia's Order Apart

• Not Feudal — for no ruler standeth above the law; the Brehons may sit in judgment upon any soul, the Empress not excepted
• Not Absolute Monarchy — for the Empress herself is held to account, and the Imperial succession is won through Bells, not handed down by blood
• Not a Democracy — for power floweth downward from appointment, not upward from the voice of the people
• Decentralized — for the world is too vast for any center to hold, and each degree of rule doth manage its own affairs and keep its own soldiery

Of Succession (the Empress): Not by inheritance is the throne conveyed, but by nomination: the Heiresses do vie amongst themselves to win the greater store of Bells (a currency of repute), and she who winneth most is crowned Empress in her turn.

Even thus did the throne most lately change hands: for after a long and settled reign, Empress Sophia did of her own will lay down the crown, and the Heiress Ruriha — she having won the most Bells among the candidates nominated — was crowned Empress in her stead.

Of Hostages (aitire / gialla): Persons of noble blood held as pledges between rulers, a custom of old standing whereby treaties are kept in good faith.

The Empire is the whole world entire. So vast a territory is no single ruler fit to govern alone—wherefore authority descendeth by degrees, each rank charged with the keeping of those beneath it in good order.

• The Empress doth appoint the High Kings/Queens and beareth the charge of keeping them in good order
• High Kings/Queens appoint the Kings/Queens within their domain, and answer unto the Empress
• Kings/Queens govern their regional territories, and answer unto their High King or Queen

Of Soldiery: Each degree of rule doth keep its own soldiery. The Red Branch Knights are the Empress's own household knights. High Kings and Queens, Kings and Queens, and even the chiefs of lesser rank—all do keep their own forces besides.

The Core Tenets

• Restorative Justice: A bent toward recompense and restoration, rather than punishment alone
• Social Obligation: Each soul is held to account before his own community
• Complex Precedents: Laws raised upon a fabric of intricate precedent and the wisdom handed down of old
• Accountability for All: Even the Empress and her royal kin are bound by these same laws

🧘 Naljor

Brehons are schooled in Naljor, a martial art founded upon meditation and the keeping of peace, rather than mastery in combat. It is less a manner of fighting than a discipline of stillness—fitting indeed for judges whose true labor is the holding of calm and clarity over a dispute, not the winning of one.

⚖️ The Order of Brehons

Under the Brehon Laws, every child is either fostered (given unto another family to be reared, a custom bound up with Ternia's ties of kinship) or else sent unto a common school—the one or the other being required of all.

Collegesrecruit their scholars straight out of the schools, seeking students by their marks and by their bearing upon a placement test taken at graduation. In the cities, every child that graduateth is straightway set to a trade—though any may choose rather to continue in study, or may sit the test anew in later years, at a steep cost.

Trade by sea is required to carry goods between the four continents. This granteth unto the Merrow—the race of the waters, foremost in this present age—no small measure of sway over the commerce of nations.

Rivers are, in certain regions, contested ground, their mastery resting upon the politics of the place. Some serve as borders, others as highways of trade, and still others vanish into the Underground, becoming thereby the territory of the Fir Bolg.

⛈️ Of Storms, and the Knowledge Thereof

Captains of long experience learn to read the sky, the clouds, and the temper of the sea. The guilds and the naval archives set down record of:

• The Seasons of Hurricanes — the times wherein certain routes must be wholly shunned
• Regions Prone to Storm — charted through generations of lessons hard-won
• The Tracks of Hurricanes — paths foreseeable, which sailors learn to hold in due respect

A captain who heedeth not the seasons doth seldom live to commit the selfsame folly twice.

Bells are not borne about one's person; such Bells as are earned are gathered into a vault, and unto you is given an official brooch whereon is shown the sum of thy Bells. The greater thy count, the greater thine esteem among men.

What Bells Purchase: Land, enterprises, great assets and holdings, social standing, political power, and the right to stand as Heiress for Empress.

Degrees: As do Coins and Rings, so come Bells in denominations of bronze, silver, and gold—bronze for such reputation-gated purchases as are made daily, gold for that standing which openeth the very doors of court.

🏙️ Of Residency & Property

Ubi (which is city residency) demandeth a minimum count of Bells merely to dwell within the city's bounds. Criminal dealings may cost thee Bells outright, and should thy count fall too low, thou shalt be cast out of the city entire.

To own property anywhere doth require Bells to qualify, and thereafter payment in Coins to purchase it in truth, together with continual Coin taxes owed unto the Brehons. Property must ever be kept in proper repair.

Rent is paid in Coins. To open a storefront requireth Bells to qualify, together with Coin taxes owed unto the Brehons. Market stalls stand open to any soul, whatsoever his count of Bells, yet cost Coin rent unto the Brehons, and the vendor must himself furnish and raise up the stall.

Of their Device: Borders of intricate Celtic knotwork engird them. Upon the front is shown a golden clover; upon the back is shown a cornucopia, overflowing with the abundance of harvest.

The Common Dole: Coins are distributed as a common dole, that the bare subsistence of every citizen be assured.

What Coins Purchase: Ordinary dealings, victuals, supplies, services, and the expenses of daily life. Rent, property taxes, and the fees for storefront or stall owed unto the Brehons are paid, every one, in Coins.

Degrees: Coins are minted in bronze, silver, and gold—bronze for such small purchases as are made daily, gold for greater expenses, such as rent or taxes.

The currency of that economy which runs beneath the ground, serving for goods and services not to be had through lawful channels.

Degrees: Rings likewise come in bronze, silver, and gold, mirroring the other two currencies—though, their nature being unlawful, gold Rings are wont to change hands quietly.

🕵️ Of the Underworld

Detectives labor on both sides of the law: some serve the Brehons directly, whilst their shadier counterparts serve instead the underworld that traffics in Rings. Assassins are paid in Rings. Persistent rumor holds that the Empire itself doth quietly hire assassins through the Delegate's Guild, though this hath never been confirmed.

The Manner of Patents

Patents are submitted unto the druids at the treasury. They do protect particular remixes and artistic styles of concepts already old—and not mediums wholly new.

Two Kinds:

• Open Source — freely available, that any soul may use or adapt it
• Patented — use restricted; it is expected that one shall pay

✨ Inventions Truly New — the Highest Honor

When any soul createth a thing genuinely new, he receiveth:

• A special title, granted by the High Kings and Queens
• An artifact treasure of epic level
• The whole world cometh to know thy name
• Thine invention becometh public domain — thou dost not control it

True innovation bringeth legendary renown, yet the invention belongeth to all.

🏠 Wherefore a Family Might Turn to Trapping

• The tending of kin who are sick or aged
• Elder, injured, or of limited mobility
• Cut off from the fellowship of hunting parties
• Pragmatism before glory

Juniper and the edible pine needle are the traditional starting point, and the first taught to most Ternian herbalists.

🌿 The Lovespoon

When one cometh to feel love for another, tradition holdeth that they carve a lovespoon by their own hand and present it unto the one they love. The carving itself is the courtship — patterns, knots, and symbols worked into the wood speak intentions that words dare not yet utter. A finished lovespoon is never made in haste; one left unfinished, or hastily wrought, is taken for an insult, a sign that the suitor's feelings run not deep enough to merit the time. Spoons are oft kept a lifetime, and hung within the home long after the marriage that followed.

🧀 The Wedding-Cheese

On the wedding day, straightway after each partner hath spoken their vow, they step apart, one from the other — alone, without aid or the pressing eye of the crowd — and eat an entire block of cheese before the assembled witnesses. The cheese is, by tradition, given a gender: mrenti cheese for the groom, eritune cheese for the bride. The act is meant to show three things before all: dedication (the finishing of what one hath begun), resilience (for cheese in such quantity is no small labor), and expectation (a marriage asketh endurance, and not romance alone). It is taken in earnest, yet seldom solemnly — wedding guests will often lay quiet wagers on how long each partner taketh, and an attempt uncommonly swift, or uncommonly hard-fought, becometh the stuff of village legend for years to come.

🪢 Of Handfasting

When the vows have been spoken, and the cheese partaken of, the couple is handfasted — their wrists bound together with cord or ribbon — for the space of a year and a day. Handfasting is no mere ceremony; many communities do hold the bound period as a trial commitment, accounting the marriage fully and forever sealed only when the year and a day be past, and neither partner hath chosen to part ways. The cord itself is oft the very one used in the ceremony, kept thereafter as a keepsake, or, in certain traditions, buried, burned, or given unto the river once the year be complete.

🥒 Of the Pickle Crock

Set by the hearth or the cellar door, the household pickle crock is kept by whosoever hath the steadiest hand for it — oft a grandparent, or else the child most to be trusted not to filch from it before its time. To offer a guest a pickle straight from the crock is a small and easy hospitality, one step beneath tea and well beneath a proper meal; it costeth next to nothing, and sayeth only you are welcome to sit a while. Among children, the filching of pickles ere they be ready is accounted a rite of passage — and to be caught at it earneth nothing worse than a laugh and a swat of the hand.

🐴 Coaching Inns

Inns built expressly to serve travelers and their horses along the main routes, providing lodging for the one, stabling for the other, hearty meals for both, and fresh horses besides for the coaches and mail carriages.

Features:

• Set roughly a day's travel apart (~10–15 miles betwixt the greater towns)
• Situate at crossroads, market towns, or the outskirts of cities
• Oft serving withal as the social hub of the townspeople
• Larger than the common inn, furnished with stable yards and courtyards of their own

The very backbone of overland travel—whereby long journeys are broken into stages a traveler may bear.

🎒 Of Portable Foods for Travelers

Yet betwixt one coaching inn and the next, and betwixt cookshops, travelers must carry provisions as will not spoil upon the road:

• Portable Soup Blocks — beef or veal broth boiled down into hard, gelatinous blocks; add but water, and set over the fire
• Hard Cheese — wheels rich in fat and low in moisture, that will keep for months
• Dried Fruit & Nuts — dense in sustenance, and requiring no preparation
• Salted or Smoked Meat & Fish — preserved flesh that travels well
• Grain Porridge Mixes — dry oats, barley, or legumes; cooked with water over the campfire

A traveler's pack is worth no more than the food that fits within it.

🍲 Cookshops

Small establishments, set at street level, where hot food is prepared and sold unto the public—found chiefly in towns and cities, near markets or busy streets. Unlike inns, cookshops for the most part provide no lodging. A customer may eat upon the spot, or carry the food away.

Common Fare:

• Pottages & Stews — cheap and filling, cooked slow in great pots
• Meats — pork, beef, mutton, and sometimes poultry; oft salted, smoked, or boiled
• Bread & Pies — meat pies and pasties, sometimes made with offal
• Ale or Small Beer — cheap drink for the working sort
• Fish — in coastal towns and port cities

Cookshops serve those city workers who want for cooking facilities, time, or fuel—the forerunner of what later ages should call takeaway.

🥧 Cookshop Favorites

Meat Pie

A cookshop standard—pastry hand-raised and packed full with minced or chopped meat in thick gravy. Sold whole or by the slice, and the crust holdeth firm enough to be eaten whilst walking.

Meat Bun

Soft baked dough wrapped about a seasoned meat filling—cheaper and more portable than a whole pie, and the workingman's favorite, being eaten with one hand alone.

Soup in a Bread Bowl

A round loaf hollowed out and filled with hot pottage or stew—and once the soup be gone, the bowl itself is eaten too, soaked through with the last of the broth.

Kringle

A great twisted ring of laminated pastry, dusted with coarse sugar—more treat than meal, and a common sight a-cooling upon a cookshop windowsill.

Libum

A dense honey cake, baked upon a bed of bay leaves and glazed with honey whilst yet warm—favored as an offering no less than as a treat, the very scent of the bay leaves baked into its crumb.

Stew

The cookshop standby—meat, root vegetables, and barley or lentils simmered for hours upon the hearth, and ladled out hot, with a heel of dark bread for the dipping.

🌿 Common Flavorings

Ternian cooks rely upon herbs both foraged and cultivated, to lend depth unto simple dishes:

• Wild Garlic — pungent, and onion-like; abundant in the woodlands come spring
• Sorrel — lemony, and somewhat sour; it brighteneth stews and soups
• Thyme — earthy and aromatic; it pairs well with meats and bread
• Yarrow — bitter, and somewhat peppery; used also in physic

⚠️ Of the Spoiling of Meat

Lacking any means to keep it cold, meat spoileth quickly — most of all in summer. Fresh meat being dear, vendors of good repute do guard that reputation jealously. Yet some will cut corners when:

• The meat draweth near to spoiling
• The customers are poor or passing through
• Oversight is weak

The masking of spoilage: Heavy spicing, strong sauces, and long stewing may render aging meat the more palatable — though the toxins within it survive the cooking still.

⚖️ Regulation & Punishment

Most Ternian cities do uphold strict food laws. Market officials such as aldermen and reeves do regularly inspect the stalls — the authorities knowing well the dangers of spoiled meat.

• Butchers must submit unto regular inspections
• Rotten meat is confiscated
• Punishments include fines, public shaming, or loss of trade rights
• In cases most severe, the offender is set in the pillory, with the bad meat hung about their neck

A vendor's reputation is their livelihood — wherefore most take quality in earnest.

📦 Of Storage and Preservation

Peasants bake but in great batches, 2–3 times per year, so constrained are they by time, labor, and fuel; wherefore the bread must needs endure.

• Sourdough fermentation doth by its own nature acidify the dough, and so stay the growth of mold
• A dense, dry baking prolongs its keeping
• Loaves are baked with a hollow at their center and hung upon a "bread beam" (a rod of wood) to keep the vermin off
• Hard loaves may be softened again with water in soups or stews, come the lean season

🔥 Of Baking Methods

Bread is baked by sundry means, according to wealth and what works the locale affords:

• Public ovens — common to villages, where peasants bring their dough to be baked in common
• Hearths and homestead ovens — home baking, for such as have the means
• Bread kilns or pottery kilns — more governed in their heat, and at times given wholly to the purpose
• Forges or places of metalwork — put to ingenious use when no other oven may be had

Common belief holds these sacred trees to be somehow kin unto Cyria, the World Tree herself — a fitting tale, given the shimmering, unearthly fruit they bear. Yet the truth, known only to scholars and druids, is stranger still: the trees were magically cultivated by the Draconians in the Age of Dragons, long ere any of Ternia's present peoples existed. Not the Merrows, not the Tuatha, not one Aeon now living ever set eyes upon a Draconian — for every race was born of the Wildening or of the Spring of Creation after the Draconians had already ascended unto Apex. The legend of Cyria endures for this cause alone: that none remain who might say otherwise.

🍵 Of Tea Customs

• Tea is free to whoso knows what to gather
• Offering tea is a lighter courtesy than the offering of food — hospitality when the pot runs thin
• Fine tea given as a gift — kept back for births, deaths, reunions

🍇 A Juice Well Favored

Pressed fruit juices are a common treat of the household, and cranberry-grape stands foremost as a particular favorite throughout Ternia — tart and sweet in equal measure, and common enough alike at market stalls and festive boards.

🫚 Ginger Beer — The Common Standard

The most widely brewed and best beloved style throughout Ternia is ginger beer — ale steeped with fresh ginger root, its sharpness varying by region and by brewer. A mild ale is accounted fit enough for children, the sick, or the faint of palate, but a proper night at the tavern demands something with bite to it. Brewers vie openly over their ginger blends, and a tavern's good name rests as much upon the sharpness of its brew as upon its price.

Visitors from other parts are warned, half in jest and half as true courtesy, before ever their first pint: "It bites back."

🍞 Wherefore White Bread?

White bread is preferred by such as can afford it, not for taste alone, but for safety — its pale hue makes plain to see such adulterants as sawdust or chalk, which dishonest bakers might add to stretch their flour. Unscrupulous bakers have likewise been known to use alum (a chemical substance) to whiten cheaper bread by artifice, which makes inspection all the more needful.

🤝 The Offer

• Offering food signifies trust and welcome
• Offering tea signifies a lighter gesture, warmth when food runs scarce
• Refusing signifies insult, and breeds suspicion

⚖️ Of Reciprocity

• Folk remember well who gives, and who but takes
• Obligations flow from hospitality freely given
• A gift forges a bond — and with it, an expectation

🍽️ Of Leaving a Little in the Bowl

A custom subtle yet weighty, observed throughout Ternia:

• Means "I am satisfied. You provided enough."
• To finish all upon the plate signifies "you gave not enough" or else desperation
• It shields the proud poor — a kindness cloaked as manners

Children learn it early: "Always leave a little. It shows you were raised right."

🕯️ The Tradition

• Long tables laden with autumn's bounty — pumpkins, fruits, flowers, and delicacies of the season
• Hundreds of candles casting a warm, golden light
• Tapestries and ornate adornments gracing the halls
• People arrayed in their finest attire
• Music, storytelling, and celebration held in common

Festive Boards embody the Ternian virtues of hospitality, community, and gratitude for abundance.

⛓️ Chatelaines

Chatelaines are held in the highest favor throughout all Ternia—clasps of the belt, most decorative, whence hang chains bearing keys, scissors, thimbles, small tools, purses of coin, and trinkets dear to their wearer. They serve at once for use and for ornament, and chatelaines of great elaboration are counted among the wealthy as tokens of their standing.

The Craft of Puppetry

• Puppets made to order may be had of toy shops and wood carvers—from hand puppets plain to marionettes most elaborate
• Puppet theatres —their stages, backdrops, and props—are crafted and sold for use within the home
• Children enact their favored shows at home, fashioning stories of their own devising

🎹 The Barrel Organ

A cabinet hand-cranked, of carved wood and gilt scrollwork, with rows of pipes standing upright, the barrel organ is an orchestra unto one performer—turn the crank, and a barrel of wood, pinned within, plucks forth a tune appointed, requiring no training in music whatsoever. The panels thereof are oft hand-painted with scenes pastoral or of the town, and an organ well-kept is as much a showpiece as an instrument of music. Performers wheel them from square to square upon market days, and a trained animal—monkey, bird, or dog—perched atop and rattling a cup for coin, is a sight full common alongside one.

🎲 Games & Diversions

• Jacks & Marbles — games of skill played upon floors and within courtyards
• Games of Cards — from simple games of matching to strategy most complex
• Games of Dice — games of chance and of calculation
• Games of the Board — contests strategic, played upon carved boards with pieces
• Tilting Labyrinth — a box of carved wood with a knob upon each side. To turn the knobs tilts the maze-board within, rolling a small ball of steel through a winding path of wooden walls and holes numbered; a tilt amiss drops the ball through one such hole, and the player must begin anew

Many of these games are enjoyed of grown folk likewise, most especially games of cards and of dice—and a labyrinth box well-worn—within taverns and common rooms.

🪙 Taws — Currency & Game of Children

Taws serve at once as a currency of children and as the ground of a game well-favored. Children trade, collect, and wager these small discs of wood.

How Played: Stack the taws upon a wooden table, then bring down thy slammer with force—whatsoever taws do flip are thine to keep!

🏪 Whence Taws Are Had

• Toy shops — the most common source. Local artists of Taws create batches for sale, each with styles and designs distinctly their own.
• Artists of renown — some toy shops commission or import batches from Taws-artists well-known, rendering these highly sought by collectors.
• Sweet shops — at times one may receive taws as a bonus upon the purchase of sweets!
• Packs of Surprise — Bundles that hold a set number of taws, together with a slammer of special edition—for none can know beforehand what fortune shall grant them!

🎭 The Apina Theatre

The most renowned chain of theaters in all Ternia, the Apina Theatre keepeth branches in cities upon every continent. Founded upon the principle that noble theatrical experience ought be open unto all—not the wealthy alone—the Apina did revolutionize how Ternians partake of the living stage.

Each Apina house bears its signature design: an open-air amphitheater with seating set in tiers, emblems of Celtic knotwork, lanterns that float above, and a stage wrought circular. From the grandest capitals unto the humblest provincial towns, the Apina bringeth productions of true craft to audiences of every rank.

The Musical Culture

• Ensembles of the town perform at taverns, at festivals, and at gatherings of the community
• Musicians who travel carry songs and styles across the borders of the continents
• Composers of bold invention press beyond all bounds with modes, harmonies, and techniques never before essayed
• Makers of instruments craft new musical inventions—designs most ingenious, that yield sounds never before heard
• Writers of song devise new techniques of composition, blending traditions drawn from regions far apart

✨ A New Manner of Entertainment

Magic lantern shows have become another beloved entertainment that travels, alongside troupes of puppeteers and companies of players. Venues of the locality do host regular showings besides.

• For children: Tales full of color and motion, brimming with wonder and adventure
• For adults: Narratives dramatic, presentations instructive, and spectacles artistic—Ternia's own manner of cinema

🧝 Tuatha (Elves)

Fashioned by Mirias to have charge of the upperworld. One of the three ordered races that did endure the bondage of Sopp alongside their fellows; beings of great elegance, with ears sharply pointed, hair of silver or of many hues, and a nature innately attuned unto celestial magic.

Stature: Tall and nimble are they grown to their full years, standing commonly at 6–9 feet. Their humors run swift and quick, whereby most Tuatha keep lean of body, whatsoever they eat.

Gift & Fault: In liminal arts and magic the Tuatha excel above all others, yet in the crafting of things are they less apt.

👤 Humes (Humans)

Origin — The Fall from Grace: Called in former times Milesians, this race was fashioned by Mirias to have charge of the middleworld, and to hold the upper and lower realms in balance. Yet for all their "humble" forms, upon them was laid the highest charge, as the very fulcrum whereon cosmic balance did turn.

Their Corruption: When strife betwixt the Tuatha and the Fir Bolg did open rifts between them, the Milesians—who bore the weight of balance upon their shoulders—fell into conflict within themselves. The Abremics did offer perilous craft, which the desperate Milesians did accept. This power made them reckless and full of entitlement, embracing a philosophy of "dog eat dog."

Their Legacy: Humes of this present age bear still the shame of their forebears, together with the hope of redemption; for they are what the Milesians became when they failed of their cosmic duty.

Gift & Fault: In magic, in crafting, and in skills both liminal and tangible, the Milesians (Humes) are but middling—masters of none, yet renowned for their readiness to turn hand to anything.

⛏️ Fir Bolg (Dwarves)

Fashioned by Mirias to have charge of the lowerworld. The Fir Bolg hewed out the Underground—that vast subterranean realm which is their homeland. Masters they are of underground cities and of mountain architecture most breathtaking to behold.

Ruins of Old: Deep within the Underground lie ruins of the Fir Bolg from ages past, of which even the Fir Bolg of this day know but little—remnants of their earliest civilization.

Presence Upon the Surface: Though the Fir Bolg do seldom venture above ground, yet they keep settlements amid the mountainous regions; and some among them take delight in travel, or choose to play their part within the surface world.

Stature: Short are they, compared with most other races, standing commonly at 4–5 feet, yet of a natural muscular frame—for the Fir Bolg build muscle with great ease. Many run instead to portliness, if they be not especially active.

Gift & Fault: In tangible skills and in crafting do the Fir Bolg excel, yet in magic are they less apt.

🦋 Nymphs

Four elemental kinds, born during the Wildening. Each kind bears wings after the manner of insects, distinctive and reflecting well its elemental nature:

Blue Nymphs (Water/Murias) — wings of the butterfly:

Yellow Nymphs (Air/Finias) — wings of the bee:

Green Nymphs (Earth/Falias) wings of the dragonfly:

Red Nymphs (Fire/Gorias) — wings of the wasp:

Nymphs, as a rule, keep watch as Ternia's caretakers of climate and season—each kind tending unto the weather of that continent which shares its element. Yet not every Nymph doth stay put. Migrating Nymphs range beyond their native continent, bearing with them a taste of their own element wheresoever they roam—a Blue Nymph (Water, wintry by her nature), wandering into Falias (Earth, favoring spring), might trail behind her cold snaps or rain unseasonable, a stray piece of Murias's winter dragged into a place where it doth not belong. Yet not every Nymph is so dutiful—slacker Nymphs do simply neglect their charge, leaving their own continent's weather to wander and misbehave through plain inattention. Betwixt the wanderers and the slackers, no few of Ternia's stranger weather-days trace back unto a Nymph who was not where she ought to have been.

Their wings serve for more than the carrying of weather—Nymphs are unmatched in the reading of direction and the holding of a course, being the only folk who cross the Triangles where the faces of Ternia do meet, and that with any regularity, flying clean over walls of standing tide that no ship could ever survive.

🐐 Fauns

Beings after the manner of satyrs, born of chaos, both male and female alike. They emerged during the Wildening, before ever the ordered races arrived. Fauns may bear the features of divers hooved animals—goats, deer, antelope, moose, and more besides.

Their Centaur Form: Fauns possess the power to shift themselves into a centaur form—a body of four legs most majestic, joined to their upper half of humanlike form. In this shape they oft display antlers most elaborate, and patterns intricate and natural upon their bodies, adorned with flowers and foliage.

🌳 Sylvans

A plant-folk, born during the Wildening, bound deep unto nature and unto the World Tree Cyria. Though Sylvans may possess genders, they are wont to appear as neither.

Their Living Transformation: A Sylvan's body is never fixed in truth. They may grow and reshape themselves into well-nigh any form of plant life—towering trees, tangled vines, flowering shrubs, moss adrift upon the air, even shapes with no precedent in nature, woven of bark, root, leaf, and bloom into forms that never before did exist. The treant-like shape shown above is but one of countless silhouettes a Sylvan might assume.

Their Sustenance: Sylvans have no need of food or drink, as other peoples do. Like unto the plants they resemble, they sustain themselves upon water, sunlight, nutrients drawn from the earth, and carbon dioxide—so that a Sylvan may stand rooted in the sun for days together and want for nothing.

A Trail of Green: Life doth follow wheresoever a Sylvan walks. Moss creeps over their footprints, seedlings push up through the bare stone, and flowers bloom along paths they crossed days before—small and lasting marks of a Sylvan's passage through the world.

🐺 Beast Tribes (The Exiles / The Travellers)

Their Common Forms:

Forms Assumed at Will:

Feral Forms (the Transformation of the Full Moon):

Origin — The Sin of Jealousy: When Mirias did bless the dutiful Merrows, certain jealous Milesians, in rage, fell upon them. Lanelas, God of Language, laid upon the attackers a curse—transforming them evermore into beings part human, part beast.

The Curse — Three Degrees:

• Shifting at Will: They may of their own will shift into forms more beastlike
• Upon a Single Full Moon: Against their will do they transform into feral forms of dire beast, yet keep they still their wits
• Upon a Double Full Moon: All mastery of self is lost, and they rampage—knowing not friend from foe

Their Eternal Wandering: Since they did attack those who held a blessed sanctuary, Lanelas ordained that they should never themselves possess a home. Barred are they from cities, and called by the name of "The Travellers."

Masters of the Sky: Dwelling far from civilization, the Beast Tribes have come to know astronomy most intimately—for their very survival doth depend upon the foretelling of the moon's cycles.

🧜 Merrows

Origin — The Blessing of Gratitude: Certain Milesians did live up to their charge with such devotion that Mirias, Goddess of Gratitude, blessed them with transformation—granting them beauty beyond nature, powers of regeneration, and a sanctuary beneath the waves, protected by divine hand.

Merrows possess distinctive fin-crowned features: ridges fin-like that frame their ears, scales iridescent that shimmer purple and gold like unto abalone shell, tails long and finned, and a crest of spines running down the back. When Tír na Tonn doth rise, they grow legs whereby to walk upon the land whilst retaining still their features so distinctive.

Their Divine Regeneration: They may, in time, regenerate limbs once lost. Their Temperament: Friendly are they, yet skittish—eager to trade, but swift to retreat at the first sign of danger.

Tír na Tonn: Their home doth answer danger of its own accord, sinking beneath the waves by divine magic whensoever it is threatened.

Their Long Memory: Merrows are possessed of a racial memory spanning millennia—longer, in truth, than even the Metahackers do suppose. They keep in memory the very history of the Milesians, the catastrophe, and all that came to pass before the memory reset. Thus are they made keepers of truth beyond price... and holders, too, of perilous secrets which the world hath been compelled to forget.

⚙️ Synths

The youngest people of Ternia, and the only kindred born of industry rather than of divinity, war, or corruption. Synths are constructs quickened unto motion—part clockwork chassis, part living current—wrought and awakened by The Watch, a reclusive company that hath its seat in Gorias. No two are alike in aspect; each is assembled after its maker's own design, arrayed in salvaged finery, broad-brimmed hats, and layered robes that conceal the seams betwixt plating and cloth. Yet one thing unites them all: the lantern-bright glow behind the eyes, and the low hum of the Technology Sphere that runneth ever beneath the skin.

Whence They Came — The Watch: By its own account, The Watch is a guild of engineers, financiers, and hedge-witches that trafficketh in water rights, salvage, and secrets along Gorias's aqueduct lines. Yet in truth it is the sole institution in all Ternia that doth still openly practice Technology Sphere such magic, since the Milesian catastrophe made that Sphere both rare and perilous. The company keepeth its foundries hidden among the canyon-cities beneath Órcathair, and guardeth the process by which a Synth is made as jealously as the High King guardeth the water. Every Synth beareth somewhere upon its chassis a small maker's sigil—a coin, a gear, a watching eye—betokening which branch of The Watch first wound it unto life.

Of Body & Mind: A Synth's body is a vessel and not flesh—it ages not, sickens not, nor hath need of food or air—yet its temper, memory, and magic are truly its own, gathered and shaped after its waking rather than fitted in at the forge. Harm done unto it is real and grievous; a Synth sorely broken may lose memories together with its limbs, and full mending oft requireth return to a Watch foundry—a debt few Synths are glad to owe.

Of Chassis and Form: The Watch's foundries bring forth Synths in many a build, suited each to calling and temperament rather than to one standard form. Slender frames of ice-crystal favor speed and the channeling of power; heavier, armored chassis of golem-kind are wrought for the front line or for labor most hard; and weathered constructs of brass and cloth are fitted out for scholarship, hedge-witchery, or clerical work. A Synth's outward shell speaketh as much of its maker's intent as of its own chosen path.

Of Access to the Sphere: Synths are numbered among the very few beings that can lay hand upon the Technology Sphere at all, channeling Orbs through that selfsame current which animates them—crackling conduits, humming reliquary familiars, small conjured tempests of sparks. And because that Sphere is regarded with suspicion in every place save Gorias, Synths, when they journey abroad, are oft met with a mingling of fascination and wariness.

Temperament differeth wildly by maker and calling—some Synths are built as stern clerical enforcers of contracts and debts, others as scavenger-tinkerers who mend themselves from whatsoever the desert yieldeth up. Yet this no Synth ever forgetteth: whose hand it was that first wound the key.

🐉 Draconians

The first of the sentient kindreds, wrought at the dawning of time. Dragon-like beings of humanoid form, with iridescent scales, wings, horns, and patterns intricate as any nature's own device. In time they grew into godhood, and ascended unto Apex.

Their ruins—filled with shifting labyrinths, puzzles, and creatures that return though slain—do appear and vanish across all Ternia, concealing within them fragments of knowledge long lost.

Mark this: Sheena, the Draconic Sorceress who penned the prophecy, chose to remain behind when her people ascended.

Knowledge forgotten: for all their god-like solemnity as the histories tell it, Draconians—and dragons in general—could be right silly creatures. Little of that humor survives in the old records, worn smooth by ages of reverent retelling.

👹 Monster Tribes

Born in the time of the Wildening. When the Sopp made thralls of the other races, the Monster Tribes were instead shut fast away in darkness—being too chaotic to be governed. Fond of darkness already, they found it "pretty cozy" and came forth again with their memories whole.

Of Wit & Memory: For the most part, not overly wise. Though they remember the world ere the Sopp came, they care more for violence than for parley. Yet rare individuals of sharper wit may become dangerous manipulators, or tellers of conspiracy who spread abroad truths forbidden.

Gremlins — The Trickster Caste:

Of Bone Spiders & Bone Scorpions:

Huge arachnids built up of bones and quickened by magic—their bodies most commonly a great ogre skull, their long legs ogre femurs. Bone Spiders are wont to haunt crypts or keep watch over places for their Monster Tribe makers; their webbing is thick hair, yet sticky with the fresh blood of prey they have taken. Rather than venom, they rely upon great mandibles that crush their prey outright.

Bone Scorpions are a kindred caste, wrought in the same wise but forgoing the web—skilled they are at hiding, and rely upon their massive, razor-sharp stingers rather than venom to bring their prey down.

👁️ Fomorians

Demon-like beings, possessed of black blood, made by the Sopp—younger than the mortal races, and not commonly corporeal, though the bodies they wear do tell a different tale. Their horns, curved and banded, and their skin of stone-grey to slate-blue, are laced with veins faintly glowing—green in the young, gold or ember-orange in elders—that pulse with the corruption coursing through their black blood. They favor armor and jewelry of raw, iridescent crystal, oft worn together with talismans of the selfsame stuff, and are found most frequently near the luminous fungal groves that mark ground infected.

They exist outside the Spell yet discovered ways to meddle with and infect it. Their corruption gave rise unto Abbaddon—their foothold within the dream world. They remember the history true, and seek to corrupt and draw unto themselves those who pass through their infected city.

The Underspell ended long since, yet the Fomorians never fell fully silent. Remnants of the fleshly craft the Sopp built into them still linger and still function, suffering them to reach into the physical plane and work upon mortals even now—Abbaddon's corruption ended not when the Dreamers did wake.

Of Access to the Spheres

Unto every character belongeth one Primary Sphere, chosen at the character's making—whence come all that one's Merits and Orbs. In time a character may come to possess likewise a Secondary Sphere, by the spending of Passion points at a cost steep and ever-climbing, after the selfsame fashion as the training of a Grade beyond its earliest ranks. Space and Time may never be chosen as a Primary Sphere at the outset—only afterward attained, and then but as a Secondary, at no small cost.

An Exception: the Draconians pay no such price for a Secondary Sphere at all—for many Spheres are simply innate unto them, a mark and token of their ascended estate.

Of the Tiers of Talisman Cards

Common (twelve Coins—sold openly, and common enough to be traded as ordinary goods) unto Uncommon, and thence unto Rare (thirty Bells and upward, by auction only)—even unto named and legendary cards such as the Kirin, which are well-nigh beyond all price. The summoning of these costeth Sync Gauge, and but one summons is granted for each encounter.

Ternia's very reality keepeth certain quiet laws of what may be and what may not, and these hold firm, let no man contrive howsoever to circumvent them.

• Mirrors and reflections are never true. Every mirror, every still pool, every surface polished to a sheen giveth back an image somewhat warped and imperfect—for no surface in all Ternia hath ever yielded a reflection perfectly faithful.
• Photographs cannot be. The very notion cannot here be conceived; no lens, nor chemical process, nor device hath ever captured a true and still image of reality.
• The magic lantern shows are magic in very truth. That which seemeth but cunning glasswork and light is, behind the scene, true magic at its labor—the moving pictures upon the screen are no mechanical trick, but sustained by an Orbwork the beholders never glimpse.
• Guns cannot function. They were never devised in Ternia, and the world's very nature will suffer them not to work, though one be brought in by some means from without—for in the selfsame moment it crossed over, it should simply cease to function, no otherwise than any other stranger's device that defieth the order by which Ternia runneth.

The True Stakes: The Unraveling of the Universe

The prophecy telleth not alone of Ternia's doom, but of the whole Universe itself.

The Tapestry of the Father of Art and Time—the very fabric whereof this Universe is wrought—doth unravel. All things stand before utter annihilation.

VAGUS is the Loom. Therein is contained the method whereby a new Tapestry may be woven, and a Universe wholly new created, ere this present one cease to be.

🏘️ Cairnvale — A Village of Exemplary Note

Cairnvale doth exemplify the very best of Falian communal life: a mighty cauldron shared in common, whereat the villagers cook together; gardens bursting forth with vegetables for the good of all; and open spaces beneath the sky where neighbors do eat, labor, and make merry as one.

⛪ Cathair Solas — A Hallowed Temple-Precinct

Cathair Solas is a temple-precinct of wondrous beauty in Falias, rising amid mist-wreathed mountains and falling waters. This hallowed place standeth as the very center of worship for the Supreme Mystery—the chief religion of all Ternia.

Of the Priestesses: Here dwell priestesses who bear upon their skin illuminescent fractal tattoos which in winter do glow, revealing secret teachings that may be read by no light but winter's own.

🕯️ Votives — Sacred Charms and Offerings

Votives are devotional charms employed throughout all Ternia for prayer, for offering, and for spiritual protection, and they come in a marvelous variety of shape, size, and substance, each according to the custom and tradition of its own country.

🏔️ Fir Bolg Architecture — Settlements Above Ground

Though the Fir Bolg be masters of cities built beneath the earth, they raise also settlements above ground of wondrous beauty, which seem to grow out of the very mountains—great arched bridges spanning betwixt the peaks, roofs tinged with blue set against stonework the color of cream, and waterfalls running down through the very architecture itself.

⛰️ The Towns of the Mountains

Beyond her great cities, much of Falias is besprinkled with lesser mountain towns hewn straightway into cliff-face and spire of rock—tier mounting upon tier of dwellings carved into the stone, joined by stairways that wind back upon themselves and by bridges of stone, whilst waterfalls thread their way down betwixt the levels. These towns reach likewise unto the Emerald Islands, where the self-same tradition of carving the cliffs continueth upon lesser peaks, worn by wind, that rise straight up out of the sea.

🏛️ Tír na Tonn — The Capital Protected by Providence

Tír na Tonn is a city of vast size beneath the waters, and the capital of Murias, home unto the Merrows. It riseth and sinketh of its own accord, by power divine, answering unto danger. When it riseth, the Merrows do grow legs whereby to walk upon the land; and when threats draw nigh, it sinketh beneath the waves, so that it is well-nigh impossible to be invaded.

🚣 Sruthán Dorcha — The City of Canals

Sruthán Dorcha is one of the great canal cities of Murias, where the waterways do serve in the stead of streets, and boats akin to gondolas bear people and goods upon them. Clock towers Gothic and soaring, bridges arched, and buildings of many stories built to the water's own design, together make a bustling seat of commerce that joineth Murias's trade routes one to another.

🐚 The Coasts of Shell

Scattered along Murias's beaches are whole communities builded of giant shells—conches and spirals vast and weathered, large enough to be hollowed into dwellings, with rooms, stairways, and windows carved straight into the nacre. Some shells rise up several stories, terraced up the cliffside behind the sand; others sit hard upon the waterline, their doorways opening upon bridges of rope and piers of driftwood. This custom extendeth likewise unto the Icelands, where the shells are washed ashore in numbers yet greater, and whole communities of the isles have grown up about them, undisturbed.

No man built these shells—they are simply washed ashore, already the bigness of houses, the remnants of creatures whose living forms are seldom seen and never taken. A community that gathereth about a fresh cluster of shells is accounted a stroke of good fortune, and whole villages have grown up in this wise, generation after generation carving out new rooms as the shells are handed down. To dwell within one is reckoned a mark of luck as much as of practicality, and it is a common custom for a family to hold a small blessing when first they remove into a new shell.

🏰 Carraig Spéir — The Capital Built Upright

Carraig Spéir is the capital of Finias, a city of wondrous beauty built upright, set into and upon towering cliffs and pillars of stone. The city riseth in tiers most dramatic, with spires Gothic, bridges beyond counting spanning betwixt her towers, and waterfalls cascading down through many levels.

☁️ Dún na Scamall — The Guardian That Floateth

Dún na Scamall is a city most extraordinary, which floateth and hovereth above Carraig Spéir. Her citizens keep vigilant watch for threats that draw nigh, and she standeth as the very pinnacle of Finias's mastery over the element of air.

🏛️ Céimseata — The City Built in Terraces

Céimseata is a city terraced and of wondrous beauty, built into hillsides natural, in a cascade of architecture after the Mediterranean fashion. Buildings of white stone climb the slopes in tiers most graceful, joined by an intricate web of winding stairways and meandering paths.

🍄 The Towns of Mushroom

Away from the upright cliff-cities, many Finians dwell in towns grown up about colossal fungal growths—dwellings and shopfronts built straightway into and beneath the caps of towering mushrooms, joined by bridges of rope strung betwixt the stalks. These towns are especially common upon the Road Islands, Finias's floating isles, where the self-same currents of wind that keep the islands aloft do seem to favor the growth of the largest fungal specimens.

🎈 Of Airships

Finias is the true home of Ternia's airships—balloons filled with heated air, rigid zeppelins, and all manner of craft from single-seat skiffs unto grand vessels that carry passengers, all built by Finian craftsmen who have turned the continent's ceaseless wind into an art rather than suffer it as an obstacle. Where Finias's floating islands do drift upon the natural currents, her airships are that same principle made deliberate and steerable—and the rest of Ternia's continents do buy or commission theirs of Finias, rather than build their own from nothing.

⛺ The Obsidian Yurts

Throughout Gorias, her villages are raised about the obsidian yurt — a round tent roofed in dome, wrought of volcanic glass and bound about with gilded latticework, set together in close circles around a common fire. As practical as fair to look upon, the dark glass doth hold the heat of day through the desert's cold nights, and giveth it back again at the rising of the sun. These yurt-villages reach even unto the Sandwitch Islands, where the selfsame volcanic glass is wrought from the isles' own sleeping cones.

🎰 Of Casinos, Arcades, and Raree Shows

The cities of Gorias are famed for their casinos, arcades, and raree shows—curiosity exhibits, whether wandering or set within a shop-front, oft built about a single marvel worth the price of admission. The centerpiece of a raree show is as like to be some engine of craft as a true oddity of nature: kinetoscopes which turn through hand-cranked reels of pictures to beguile the eye into motion, and automats which yield up food, drink, or small fortunes from behind a wall of little glass-fronted doors, requiring no servant's hand.

Arcades complete the diversion with strength testers, punching bags contrived to measure the force of a blow, and fortune tellers both living and made of engine-work. Gallopers turn by day and by night in the busier plazas, lit bright and waiting upon a coin. Shops of tobacco do often keep their own penny-flip and "jacks" engines by the counter—games of chance that pay their winnings in goods rather than coin.

🎡 The Pleasure-Grounds

The greater cities of Gorias do host whole pleasure grounds, raised up about a handful of showpiece rides: the circle swing, wherein chairs are flung out wide upon chains as the whole frame doth spin; the tunnel of love, a slow passage by boat through the darkness; the house of mirrors, a maze of warped and doubled reflections; the scenic railway, an open-air car upon rails that climbs and plunges through scenery built for the purpose; and towering over all, the Ferris wheel, turning slow enough that one may take in the whole of the ground from its summit.

🚂 Of Steam-Powered Carriages

Gorias's engineers of steam have pressed beyond the horse-drawn coach with steam-powered carriages—coaches that move of themselves, running upon the selfsame principles of boiler and piston found in Finias's airships. Louder they are, and slower to stir than a team of horses, yet untiring across the long desert stretches between cities, where a living beast would flag long ere the journey's end came into view.

💧 Of Waters and Their Works

Gorias hath raised up the most wondrous aqueducts of any continent—vast marvels of engineering that bear water across great distances. Man-made ponds, reservoirs, and oases carefully tended dot the whole landscape.

The rivers of Gorias run oft through deep canyons, which maketh them hard of access yet vital to the settlements that depend upon them. Common rivers and lakes are fiercely guarded—their preservation being essential unto survival.

⚖️ Of Strict Governance

Gorias is strict in part because it must be. The High King or High Queen doth hold tight rein over the distribution of water through the aqueduct networks. Whosoever governs the water governs the continent.

This strictness breedeth alike obedience and defiance. Gorias bringeth forth hardy, rough-hewn folk—survivors who chafe beneath authority and oft make trouble when they journey abroad.

🗡️ The Canyon Smugglers

The very canyon rivers so hard to reach are likewise impossible to keep watch upon. A thriving culture of smugglers useth these hidden waterways to move their goods—chiefly Ring-based black market trade—beyond the authority's gaze.

The canyon runners know every hidden way. They trade in Rings, hold the water authorities in contempt, and answer to none. The aqueducts belong unto the crown; the canyons belong to such as are bold enough to navigate them.

✨ Órcathair — The Gilded Capital

Órcathair is the breathtaking and overwhelming capital of Gorias, a city of most extravagant opulence. Massive palaces, baroque and rococo alike, drip with elaborate golden ornament. The city is lit at every hour, both day and night, with nightlife most wondrous—yet beneath the glamour lieth an air oppressive.

Greco-Roman architecture doth dominate Gorias, with many coliseums and arenas built for gladiatorial combat and such spectacles as draw crowds beyond counting.

🌉 Gleann an Óir — The Canyon Crossing

Gleann an Óir spans one of Gorias's deepest river-canyons, a few days' ride from Órcathair, its terraced quarters hewn directly into the cliff-face upon either side of the chasm. One great aqueduct bridge alone—wide enough for carts, market stalls, and the steady foot-traffic of two cliffside districts—carries both water and travelers across the gap, its copper-domed waystations gleaming still after centuries beneath the desert sun.

The city is known for her stained-glass votive houses, where artisans of the place set devotional charms into windows of colored glass rather than display them upon shelves—a custom said to have begun when a glassblower marked how the canyon light turned common glass to fire at dusk. Along the stairways and balconies, moonbell blooms—pale blue flowers that draw trace minerals up from the aqueduct's runoff—glow softly once night hath fallen, kept company by lanterns that never are extinguished.

By day, Gleann an Óir is a checkpoint of the water authority, her bridge-guards searching brooch and cargo alike. By night, the canyon below belongeth to the smugglers, and more than one merchant of good repute keepeth a second ledger for trade that never crosses the bridge at all.

The Guild setteth forth bounties in tiers according to rank, so that what work lieth open to a delegate dependeth greatly upon how far he hath climbed the ladder.

At the bottom of the ladder are found scavengers and laborers. Scavengers are sent forth after materials of every sort—reagents, ore, hides, rare plants, salvage from ruins old—whatsoever a bounty doth call for. Laborers, in their stead, take up contracts of task, which may be aught from small chores unto a full contract of skilled work. For most Ternians who hold no established trade, the Guild is simply the surest way to find work and begin to contribute—and Ternia's Universal Basic Income (UBI) being kept deliberately low, there is real pressure to seek out paying work, and it is to the Guild that most do go seeking it.

At the top of the ladder, delegates of high rank are in constant demand for the Guild's most perilous and most lucrative work: the recovering of artifacts from Dragon Temples, the capture of criminals of high repute, and the putting down of the strongest wandering Astral Beasts, the most ferocious among the Beast Tribe, and the Fomorians. Delegates of high rank are likewise much sought after as knights, both by the several kingdoms and by the Empire itself, and some knights do in time rise to become generals.

The Delegate's Guild is not the only guild in Ternia—it is but one among several, and the guilds do labor together freely, each with the others. The Delegate's Guild, in especial, standeth well placed to outsource materials gathered upon the hunt unto whatsoever guild hath need of them. It keepeth, moreover, close ties unto the colleges: the colleges aid the Guild in finding talent of promise new, and the Guild aideth the colleges in marking students worthy of further training—a pipeline of benefit unto both, in either direction.

Hunters complete the Guild's ranks, taking up the hunt as their own chosen calling.

🐎 Knights & the Red Branch

Knighthood is won through the Guild, once a delegate hath attained a set threshold of Bells. Knights are granted the choice of a Coin salary both large and regular—full knighthood, given wholly to the calling, being a common end sought by delegates as they climb the ranks. Most esteemed among them are the Red Branch Knights, Ternia's order most high. Knights may likewise foster apprentices, called squires.

👼 The Valkyrie Project

Programs of cognizance, wrought by the Sopp to guide evolution within the Underspell. They possess white blood and wear winged head-visers. They may transform into a state of greater power, and make use of Merkabas to journey in an instant.

The Valkyries do guide Dreamers to become Heroes, and choose from among Heroes such as shall become Gods and Goddesses. They dwell in Neamhthír, the city that floateth, together with the benevolent deities whom they have helped to make.

Like unto the Fomorians, the Valkyries never wholly stood down when the Underspell was ended—for remnants of their Sopp-wrought biological programming do yet suffer them to touch the physical plane and to work upon mortals, even unto this day.

The Valkyrie Project is guided by the Sopp. Who guideth the Sopp, no one knoweth.

👑 Empress Ruriha

Kindred: Merrow | Seat of Power: Tír na Tonn

Ternia's newly-crowned sovereign. In the ancient and accustomed manner did Ruriha rise to her estate — being put forward as an Heiress, and winning more Bells than any rival that contended for the throne — and was crowned not long after the Empress Sophia had, of her own free will, laid down her power. Being a Merrow, she inherits that selfsame unbroken memory of Ternia's history which every Merrow sovereign doth carry, comprehending therein the truth of the Milesian corruption and of the Sopp's reign.

The Blind Seer: Blind is Ruriha, and yet she sees farther than many that have their eyes — a seer whose sight turneth inward, and runneth not through the eye at all. Cross-legged she holds her court, and from this custom departeth never, be the occasion what it may.

No portrait of state hath yet been commissioned; so late was the coronation that most of Ternia, in their mind's eye, doth still behold the old Empress upon the throne.

👑 Sophia — Sometime Empress (Retired)

Kindred: Merrow | Seat of Power (formerly): Tír na Tonn

For centuries was she Ternia's sovereign, ere she stepped down of her own will, that the succession of Heiresses might run its due course. Being a Merrow, she remembereth all things—the Milesian corruption, the merging of the dimensions, the enslavement of the Sopp, and the resetting of memory. She held, upon philosophic grounds, with the Sopp's decision to reset the world, and, so long as she reigned, forbade all entry into the Fungal Layer.

Keeper of Secrets: In the course of her reign, such ruins of the Milesian Age as explorers chanced to discover were encompassed about and sealed up at her commandment, that none might come nigh them. Whether Empress Ruriha shall hold to the same policy, time alone will show.

Pastimes: A comedian of no small skill, and a Shiki dancer—Shiki being a manner of dance that doth blend the belly-dance with the ballet, and one which, throughout her reign, she did much to make beloved of the people.

🐉 Sheena — Oracle of the First Age

Kindred: Draconian | Age: Ancient past all mortal comprehending

She it was who wrote the Stela of Crepuscule and set down the 3,000 Mitu sigils within VAGUS, ere her people ascended. And when the Draconians were made gods and departed for Apex, she remained behind, forsaking divinity for duty's sake.

For thousands of years hath she, in quiet wise, taken up apprentices — teaching mortals of every race, and preparing champions against that apocalypse which she foretold long ago.

Yet for all her ancient gravity, Sheena possesseth a wit and mirth surpassing most—a true and hearty delight she taketh in comedy and in droll persons, insomuch that her apprentices are oft astonished the first time they hear the Oracle of the First Age laugh till she wheezeth at a jest well-timed.

😈 Luther — The Broken God

Kindred:Half-Gregori (titan), half-Aeon — brought into being as a genetic experiment

Leader of the Gregori that made their escape, and head besides of the Sphere Corporation, both seated upon Allaweh. When he discovered that he was engineered, and not born, his wits forsook him.

His Aim: To master the Loom itself. If VAGUS be indeed that Loom which can weave a new Universe, then Luther purposeth to sit before that Loom and remake reality, even as the Creator himself.

🍄 The Arts of Fungal Craft

The Sopp mastered the arts of fungal craft to a degree no other people hath matched:

• Bombs of mushroom charged with spores of divers effect
• Fungal infections most lethal and fungal cures (penicillin)
• Torches of mushroom and light that glowed of its own living nature
• The making of victuals — cheese, strong drink, and bread, all wrought of fungal stuff
• Substances for pleasure's sake and compounds of healing virtue
• Instruments of music fashioned of mushrooms
• The Mycelium Network — a vast web of fungal threads, binding all their systems as one

Against fire, disease, and radiation they stand proof; and age doth not touch them.

🏛️ The Twin Cities of the Spell

👁️ Those Who Remember

• The Metahackers — Descendants of the Neuro-Hackers who stood resistant
• The Merrows — Protected by divine hand, their memories untouched
• The Monster Tribes — Shut away through the days of the Underspell, they yet remember the world as it was before

Taken together, these three do form what the Filid do call the Universal Map: not three several destinations but one living shape, trunk and root and branch of that selfsame tree which Mirias herself did plant. To walk the Stone Labyrinth, to cross the Rainbow Bridge, and to take the Serpent's Walk in their turn is the nearest thing Ternia hath to a formal initiation of mystics — the awakening of each point along the tree, until it may be climbed with intention, rather than wandered into by chance, as once the Wildening races did.

🗿 The Obsidian Spires

At the very roots of Cyria, beyond even where the Serpent's Walk doth lead, stand the Obsidian Spires—jagged towers of black that hold the memory of all Ternia. Oft are they mistaken for kin to the Sopp's Akashic Library, yet the likeness goeth no further than this: that both be "a place which remembers." Where the Akashic Library doth preserve history, and the dreams lived out within the Underspell, the Spires do record nightmares held in common instead — the fears, the dreads, and the worst imaginings the world itself hath borne, given jagged black form at that one place which no World Stream hath ever reached.

These five dates fall, every one, exactly 61 days apart, one from the next, the year through. Mark well: no Eadrana falls in autumn at all—Tiu appeareth not once in that season.

All ages run modulo 30, returning to 0 after 29. If Full Ayla be the middle stretch of her round—ages 13 through 18—then a Double Full cometh to pass whenever one among those five ages doth fall within that window.

Herein lies the very reason Double Fulls are uncommon, yet never a thing beheld but once in a lifetime: Tiu doth sample but a slice of 5 days from Ayla's round each year, and that slice creepeth forward 5 days with every sun (6, after a leap year). Across a handful of suns, the slice sweepeth through Full and out again upon the farther side—which accordeth neatly with what is already known, that Double Full Moons come 'round roughly every 2–3 years.

The Beast Tribes live already by this rhythm, and instinctively so. Cities that proscribe them watch that selfsame table, only for the peaks that come every 2–3 years.

Tiu hath neither rising point nor seasonal path. No man findeth her. Upon Eadrana, one need but look up—anywhere—and there she is already. The only true labour is in the knowing, whether Ayla hath chosen to stand beside her.