Lore

Old Kalèver shuffled through his library with a giant tome clutched protectively against his chest. “This,” he croaked “is the only edition that remains.” As he said this, his eyes grew wide with exclamation, pushing his eyebrows against the folds of his forehead. He nodded as he turned, and with a heroic heft, dropped the book onto the lectern. With a quick motion of his gnarled hand he slapped the heavy cover open. A cloud of dust exploded around him. Tracing his thumb along its edge, he flipped the tome open to page 83, exactly. He smiled as he adjusted his glasses. He then read aloud, “Bazèrtyd lifted his hand to his foe and invoked the Eight Words of Lasting Woe, such was his power and his ken, that his enemy never returned there again.” At that, the old man looked up at his audience of one and his eyebrows pushed toward his scalp. “You see,” he explained, “the Words do exist.”

From a wine and smoke stained armchair, a woman lounged. The tips of her porcelain fingers like an albino spider’s legs clutched the delicate stem of a wine glass, its contents sloped precariously to the glass’s rim. Her eyes rolled. “My dear old man,” she smiled. “Just because an old book says it’s true, does not make it so.” She took a moment to sip from the glass as the old man slapped his book shut. His eyebrows were moving up and down like wounded caterpillars but he could find no retort. After a moment, the woman continued. “The Eight Words do not exist. They are fantasy, a self-indulgence with which magicians occupy themselves on lonely nights.” Kalèver fumed! Gently setting the glass on an end-table the woman leaned forward. “Dear old man.” She gestured toward the book-stacks that encompassed them, all rising toward the frescoed ceiling. “These are not the tomes of Harùin,” she said with an expansive gesture. “Anyone can collect the words of men that agree with them. Printing words, does not make them truth.”

Included here is the accumulated knowledge of the World of Teréth End. While most of what follows centers upon Yrūn discoveries, it is our hope that you will also find herein tidbits of a more foreign and alien nature. While the libraries of the Old Empire once brimmed with lore, so have the ancient archives of Lyrast, the subterranean halls of Vulmùra, and the stones of forbidden Emer. As always, if there is an area that you would like to explore further, please contact us and we’ll dispatch a familiar to retrieve something on the topic.