General Knowledge

This Page contains excerpts from various locations of the Eroc-Verse. Most claim these works to be pure fiction, a select few have noted that the depth of information contained here has matched many factual records from civil libraries, mercantile ledgers, and simple folklore or myth. The items found here can be considered things your character would know or could discover with minimal effort..



Banshee:
A female spirit usually seen as an omen of death and/or a messenger from the underworld. Although not
always seen, her mourning call is always heard, usually at night or dusk when someone is about to die. The Banshee can appear in a variety of guises. Most often she appears as an ugly, frightening hag, but can also appear as a stunningly beautiful woman of any age.

Banshees are frequently described as dressed in white or grey, often having long hair which they brush with a silver comb. Other stories portray banshees as dressed in green, red, or black with a grey cloak.







The Host

THE CELESTIALS:
The Celestials are a star-faring race of humanoid aliens who possess untold cosmic power. Standing two thousand feet tall, the Celestials are clad in full body armor. No living being has ever seen what they look like beneath their armor or knows their origin.


What is known is that they have visited the Eroc-verse at different periods in the past, each time altering the course of history. The first Celestial Host came approximately one million cycles ago to perform genetic tests and experimentation on various lifeforms throughout the galaxy.

The Second Celestial Host came approximately twenty-five thousand cycles later to inspect the results of their first visit. Finding the direction to be counter-productive, the Celestials re-phased the entire reality. Repercussions of that phasing caused dimensional shifting that eventually contributed to the destruction of various realities and the birth of new ones.

The Third Celestial Host arrived one thousand cycles ago to inspect the progress of their work. The Host was met by a contingent of Markrab Elders, who challenged the Celestials' right to alter the Eroc-verse. The outcome of that encounter was what became known as the Uttermost War.

It is unknown how many Celestials there are in existence, even the number of Celestials composing the Third Host is a mystery. Nine are chronicled by name and function, others were glimpsed but not identified. They were led by the Celestial known only as The One Above All, who remained aboard the orbiting mother ship during the entire incident. The head of the landing party was Arishem.

The Celestials have visited many other worlds in order to perform experimentation. The Celestials have returned to judge many of these worlds, and Eroc is one of the few that they judged favorably and hence did not destroy for posing a potential menace to the Eroc-verse.

There have only been indications of the full scope of the Celestials' power. Each member of the Third Host withstood a full frontal attack by the collective power of the Markrabs. Arishem has been shown to have sufficient power to permanently seal dimensional portals to the godly realms. The Celestials are not indestructible, however. During the Third Host, the Celestials used their combined might to slay one of their brethren.

Another indication of the Celestials' power is that when the Third Host left Eroc, they wiped all evidence of their recent and past presence from the minds and records of mortal men. Only some Patrons, the Unknown Gods, and a handful of mortal beings are now aware of their existence and remember the nature of those visits.



An excerpt from the Heroes of Eros, by Cire Elik.
 *A big thanks to Tareks' creator for writing up this cool backstory*   
    Tarek was the second of five children belonging to a proud family of rutabaga farmers in the small coastal village of Eros. Eros was known for producing numerous root based crops - rutabagas and radishes especially.
    On the spring morning of Tarek's birth a song bird flew in the open window, landed on the babes' head and began chirping in time with the child's cries. The baby began to then mimic the bird where upon it flew out the way it had come.
    In his sixth year a powerful storm pounded the village for a day and a night. Upon it blowing over Tarek discovered that his Fathers friend the Blacksmith had a new baby boy. From that day forward Tarek was always to be found at little Tyrrians side.
    As you may imagine, the life of a rutabaga farmer is neither easy or particularly exciting. Unlike his older brother or younger sisters, Tarek was never content in the fields much to his Father's dismay. The boy was constantly scolded for neglecting his chores and generally causing mischief which invariably included little Tyrrian in some manner.
    In his fourteenth year Tarek had all he could take. The drudgery of root farming and the confines of the little village were searing his soul. Even the chance his father may allow him to go along to market in Tegel once a month could not hem in the aspirations of the young nere' do well. Early one morning he set out on his own daring himself to trek beyond the fields to see what lay beyond the woods where the local hunters plied their trade. As the sun began to set Tarek realized his grand adventure was taking a turn for the worst as the boy was hopelessly lost. Frantic and frightened he wandered through the night, not realizing that every step took him farther away from home.
    Unknown to the boy was the fact that his worried family had employed the aid of a young village hunter named Dirk to track and search for their lost son. The hunter followed his trail which ended at the rocky coast over a days trek to the south. Believing their son had been taken by a Siren or simply washed out to sea by the rough surf, they mourned him and continued farming.
    What truly happened to the boy was in some ways better and worse than Tarek could have ever wished. Stumbling out onto the fog bound shore that gray morning, hungry and thirsty. The sounds of gruff men's voices sent the boy in search of them in the dense fog. Two dragon prowed ships loomed at him from the gloom and instead of a warm greeting and helpful comfort the boy was treated to several hard blows from fists and axe handles.
    Bruised and battered Tarek awoke bound aboard the dragon boat, the smell of brine and rotten fish along with the unfamiliar rocking made him terribly ill. Eventually he was yanked from the boat by a hulking Skandik warrior who tied a rope to an iron ring on a leather collar that had been placed on him while he had slept. Along with a handful of others, Tarek was led to a large Skandik village where he soon found himself forced to farm and do chores. Given just enough to eat to stay strong enough to work, he was at the mercy of not only the adults but the skandik children as well, who treated him very poorly.
    After a few weeks, Tarek began picking up the local language and discovered he was a thrall, or slave to the Warrior that had found him. Never letting on that he was beginning to understand his new masters Tarek learned much about the habits of those he now lived among.
    It was six months later that Tarek got his lucky break. The Skandiks had just returned from a raid and that night's celebration was raucous indeed. In the early hours of the morn Tarek was able to slip out past the  gate guards who snored in ale induced slumber. However just outside a young warrior was relieving himself and blocked the boys progress. Tarek lifted the skandik's dagger from his sheath  and paused wondering if he could kill someone to escape. That pause was his undoing as the young warrior turned around and grinned at the escaping thrall. His guttural laugh and glint in his eye told Tarek the Skandik didn't mean to let him escape much less live. He grabbed for Tarek's throat and the boy flailed wildly with the stolen dagger, as he knew nothing of truly fighting. It was all a blur and the warrior must have been still very hung over as Tarek realized he had somehow broken from his grasp and was running for the treeline. His breath coming in ragged gasps and a searing pain shooting up his right side, Tarek looked down to see hilt of the dagger he lifted protruding from his ribs. Back at the gate the warrior was shouting curses at him and attempting to drunkenly fire arrows at him. More afraid of what the Skandiks would do if they caught him than dying in the wild Tarek turned and fled, fighting back the pain and tears he ran - not knowing where he was going or how much longer he would live. Eventually the shouts of the skandiks became fainter until eventually darkness overcame him. The last thing he felt was the cold wet ground on his tear soaked cheek, then nothing.
    Tarek awoke to a tall female leaning over him, changing a dressing on the knife wound. She was very slim of build yet appeared strong. Noticing the boy had awakened she spoke in a tongue he had never heard. The chamber he was in was spartanly decorated, but well maintained. Touching the wall Tarek realized they were  made of iron! What a waste Tyrrian would think he thought, as the fact that he may never see his family or friends again overcame him. The woman placed a tray with a bowl of clean water some cheese and fresh bread beside him. She looked at Tarek knowingly then left him alone.
   A few day later Tarek was strong enough to leave the small chamber with the aid of the woman who had been caring for him. Looking about he noticed a a dearth of men. The village seemed overwhelmingly populated by women of all ages, and not just average women either, but well toned and athletic. Many of which bore nothing more than bronze torcs on their arms and legs as well as a shield and spear. The lack of clothing caused him to stare at the ground! Amazed- not because the women appeared to have a dominate role ( his Tharbrian heritage allowed that men and women were equal ), but because the women outnumbered the men and seemed unconcerned by their lack of clothing.
    After about a week Tarek realized he was picking up the local language even easier than he had learned Skandik, and by the time his wound was fully healed he was able to speak fluent Amazonian. He learned that he had been discovered by an Amazon scouting party that chased off his pursuers. Also the Shield Maid who had cared for him was named Mila and he was her responsibility. He was in the Amazon settlement called Sea Rune. The small coastal village sits next to a large three towered castle of metal. The Amazons of Sea Rune constantly war with the Skandik settlement of Ossary to the south from whence Tarek had escaped. Much to the young man's delight Tarek soon discovered that he would not be tilling fields or laboring on menial chores, for the Amazon's had slave women to do those things and Shield Maidens lived and trained only for battle. As the male property of Mila, Tarek was tasked with regaining his heatlh and learning a physical regimen from the other males in the village. He learned to handle dagger, short sword and the short bow as the men were pat of the defense of the village and it's hunters. Soon Tarek learned why he, as well as the other men were tasked with staying in good health. He was to lay with Mila and her battle sisters to provide them with strong Amazonian daughters.
    Six months came and went and Tarek spent many days and nights in vigorous physical activities. One morning after breaking his fast with Mila, he talked about his past and how he had come to miss his family and home. Generally men do not leave the Amazons except by old age or the blade of a spear. Mila then told Tarek that she understood his need to return home and that there was something she could do. A brand was burned into the young mans upper right bicep. "This symbol marks you as a free-man of the Amazons. Each of us is allowed only one in our life. May you return to me of your own free will."
     The next morning Tarek was blindfolded by Mila and led deep inside the Iron Castle. She kissed him once upon the lips, then Tarek felt as if he were struck by lightning!! His breath was knocked from his lungs and he fell to the soft grass at his feet!!! Removing the blind Tarek discovered he was standing on the cliffs overlooking the sea only a mile or so south of Eros!
     His family and friends were elated that the boy they thought dead had returned home after almost two years. Soon things were back to the old doldrum and Tarek knew that he could always return to the Amazons and to Mila and her battle sisters. Only Tyrrian ever got the true story of what happened during that time and even he had trouble believing all of it. Life in Eros was no different from when he left, perhaps even more boring than he remembered.
     Then the Man Beasts appeared and everything changed......



Translated from runes inscribed on a sheet of metal paper found in a melting iceberg drifting south from Valon.
We've crossed the burning wasteland
Sought out forgotten tombs
Within this shattered planet
Beneath a broken moon
We live amongst the ruins
Where cities once did rise
From graves of fallen nations
Watch hollow eyes

In our time we have seen
Untold pain and suffering

Our legends tell of weapons
Wielded by kings of old
Crafted by evil wizards
Unholy to behold
We seek the fire lances
That slew the ancient race
The world where they were masters
Now lays in waste

In your time you will see
Endless death and misery
Invoke myth and prophecy
All you know shall cease to be

     Lyrics to: Fire Lances of the Ancient Hyperzephyrians, by The Sword


This non-descript axe was used by a worshipper of Chaos most foul called Felan, and along with his
Felan's Axe
brother Molan they were known as Chaos Lords. Vicious and cunning beyond measure. As the 11th age drew to a close the brothers' success became their undoing. A force of Tharbrian tribes along with dwarf and elven allies laid siege to the vile ones fortress. The battle lasted 39 days and seemed to be a stalemate, until a young tharbrian warrior dealt Felan a mortal blow with a Wizard-blade. Realizing the end was near, Molan entombed his brother in a hidden crypt, defended by four curses. The curses were : Fire, Ice, Storm and Hate.

Game Stats:
Forged of meteoric iron the axe can only be used to full potential by a character with STR of 16 or higher.
STR 16+, Damage: 1d12     Critical Range: 18-20 Warriors only*
STR 15 or less, Damage: 1d8   Critical Range: 19-20
Alignment: Chaotic
Curse of Hate: Wielder must save vs. DC 15 WILL at the beginning of every combat encounter or succumb to violent rage, mindlessly attacking foes and pursuing them until they are dead.


**The Axe has been destroyed in a magical rite performed on the Isle of Croy.




These notes were found hand written on papyrus, carbon dated to the late 33rd millenium. Also referred to as the early 12th age. It is believed to be notes as written first hand by the ancient Chronicler; Cire Elik. It has been translated to Galactic Standard for ease of reading.

1st page:

After a series of [text missing] collected an assortment of materials and components that he felt would be good in fashioning a weapon. [Text unreadable] chunks of lava-lite, extremely rare rock from the depths of the (earth?). The lava-lite, in addition to having a dark gray, glass-like appearance, is also porous. The potential was recognized for its value in tool or weapon creation. [hole in papyrus] growing components collection, which included a ruby and pelt from a Fire-Tiger that had been held captive by [hole] and the leg bone and fangs of a mountain (lizard?).

[burned] ammer needed more than lava-lite. Though incredibly hard it is also lightweight and semi-porous.
A dense tough metal was needed to coat and fill the lava-lite. Silver was offered up and used for the construction. This choice was perfect for the blunt weapon and for its abilities to both conduct heat and harm creatures of evil bent.

The head of the was hewn to a rectangular shape, like that of a maul. This was then submerged in pure melted silver. This produced a silver hammer head with streaks of glassy, dark gray stone. Next the bone (femur, presumed) of the mountain (lizard?) was shortened for a one-handed war hammer. It was then hollowed and filled with silver and polished. Forged silver retaining rings were placed at the top and bottom as well as silver bands along the length. On top the retaining cap has been engraved with the symbol of [untranslatable] a sword supporting a scale.

The Fire-Tiger ruby was added to the bottom of the handle, as well as a garnet to each side. The addition of the gems were direct instructions from [untranslatable], ruby and garnets being symbols of fire among gemstones. Finally the polished bone handle was wrapped with tanned hide from the Fire-tiger pelt.


2nd page:

While the hammer was being forged, a storm the likes of which had not been seen since [text missing] the very night of his birth. It is known from those who lived at the time, that the night he was born a similar storm took place. Other claim the that every strike of the blacksmith hammer was followed by lightning and a loud clap of thunder.

The heat from the forge was also beyond normal ken. This is thought [text ends here as the papyrus was torn away]




The following are excerpts from unfinished tales by Cire Elik:

  A tale for children:
    Now, because you've begged and chided without relent. I'll tell this tale I'd rather forget.
A terrible story of Frother Spitoon and his horrible night in Black Mash lagoon!
    The moon was up high and the frizzles were spleeting, when along came Frother whose feet had been bleeding.
    "Oh me, oh my, my feet are just aching. All this running and good time I'm not making!"
The frizzles stopped spleeting, and the night became cool. Then came the howl of the hairy wet Mool! Frothers hair stood up high, eyes wide as a pie! 
   " I should run at the sign of the hairy wet Mool, if not I'd be labeled a jiggety fool!"
 Off he ran at quite a mad dash, smack into the lagoon called Black Mash!!


Unkown:
    In the morning the Moon babe broke its fast over plates of desire to fulfill his dreams from nights past.
It has been written as it has been said, you can find it if you search in this way. The most sought after thing lies just beyond the veil.

   Lo the goats did descend upon the village like a plague. No one was spared as flesh was gnawed from bone, and blood spilt freely upon the earth. Terrible, that and more so. Remember not to put your hands in others pockets, drink your tea when momma says, or the Soul eating Gypsy will visit in your dreams.



The following is an excerpt detailing the history of a small City-State called Modron.

  Five hundred years ago, Modron was a thriving port city whose inhabitants worshipped Modron, the demi-goddess. Legends tell of merchants from Karakan and the Isle of the Blest who brought incredible wealth to trade for pearls and dwarven forged iron. The mer-folk of the estuary harvested fabulous pearls and sea sponges that were highly prized. Then a migration of Swerting stopped the flow of dwarven trade and in a space of a few years Modron's popularity decreased. Civil strife erupted and the temple of Modron was submerged in a cataclysmic earthquake. The death blow came soon after when Skandik longships carried off the remaining population for slaves.
   The Tharbrian tribes then settled the area, and struck a relationship with the local mer-folk. The tribe moved into the ruins and began rebuilding the old city. In the last hundred years Modron and the Overlord have become allies and allowed a resurgence of the ancient glory to begin anew.Sailors, Traders and Merchants have again returned to this gateway to the western lands.
   Soggy bound chests, still nestled in the holds of scuttled ships litter the bottom of the estuary. A legendary fortune is said lie within the sunken temple's ruin.

Of Shadankin and the Mer-folk Queen.
    The ancient Thrabrian wizard Shadankin dedicated his life to plumbing the secrets of the watery depths. Through magical means, he made regular sojourns beneath the waves. Seeking to learn and befriend the ocean's denizens he was instrumental in regaining the trust of the mer-folk of Roglaroon.  It is rumored that Shadankin became the consort of the mer-folk queen Cealheewhalool. Many years later something happened under the waves that is lost to surface dwellers. Some say it was a lovers quarrel, some say the Wizard discovered treachery below the waves. What is known is that neither Shadankin nor the Mer-Queen were seen again and the relations between surface dweller and sea-folk have been strained ever since.
   To this day stories of the Sea-wizard are popular fare in Modron and his pinnacle sanctum still stands offshore a few miles north of the city-state.


12 comments:

  1. We will continue to give Cire Elik deeds wothy of chronicling.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Very useful knowledge for our stay in Modron...

    ReplyDelete
  3. Lars: It seems he has been likened to an ancient wizard called Shadankin, our Alexander.Who might that he have been?

    ReplyDelete
  4. Tarek: Whoever he was, he got to be with a Mer-Queen.

    ReplyDelete
  5. The axe of Felan is destroyed and only Molan's flail remains in the hands of mortal men.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Molan's flail was never mentioned as much as his power as a Demon Summoner!

      Delete
  6. Tomb defended by 4 curses? Umm, I only remember one bad thing happening. Even though the axe is destroyed, is there more to the story???

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Sally: I know it had several layers of freeze inside and we mostly avoided the dangers. The axe itself had curses for those who attempt to use it.

      Delete
    2. The story of the best smuggler in the universe started before he was even born. He was smuggled out of the city in the belly of a princess in an effort to save both his parents and his own lives. As a small child he was raised in a den of thieves and streets with urchins. His father discovered his talent for getting things past the most observant of sentries before he was 5. The boy had the skills and the talents given of the gods. After this he was running errands and training with the rest of the apprentice boys joining the guild.

      At the tender age of 11 Lars saved a full shipment of products that were caught by a random guard patrol. After the men were taken away, Lars slipped out of the large box he was smuggling into the city and delivered the haul to the clients. Then he swam out of the city with the payment and alerted his father of his men’s capture. The teamster’s presented themselves at the gate demanding to see the lord and what proof they had to hold his men on. All the lord had was crates full of standard merchandise and no contraband was to be had. Of course he had the lord pay him for the delay to his delivery and added that to the haul.

      Lars has always been able to slip into places and leave with little trace. He was in line to take over the family business when the princess’ family came looking for her and burned them out. Lars went into the river and came out on the far side down stream. Discreet inquiries led him to believe none survived.

      Lars was left with his trusty hidden dagger, a water proof sack full of coppers, and the clothes on his back. He found a client who needed some special ore delivered to a blacksmith in Eros and some pages delivered to the wizard and his apprentice Alexander in short order. He made the trip with few troubles and delivered the ore to the blacksmiths son Tyrrian. At the wizards humble 3 story tower Lars stood looking for the possible ways to sneak in and loot the place. He had just spied the best way to knock over the wizard and relieve them of all the burdens of their wealth when the door opened and a well dressed young man stepped out and pointed at him. “Are you just going to stand there all day and case the joint, or are you going to collect your pay and survive the night?” Lars smiled and took the pouch of coins and passed the pages to the young man. Then the Man-Beasts attack started. Seeing a young girl with red hair being chased between the buildings, both young men sprang into action. Crushing a Man-beasts head with a loose stone and dropping a bucket over the others head and then the farm girl sprang on the beast with a pitch fork and fury only a wildling could possess laid them low. After the moments of panting and panic passed polite introductions were made in the shadow of the alley. This moment would twist 3 worlds into one and forever bind the youth together. If only they would live till morning….

      Delete
  7. DM: Excellent, an award for you is coming, and now the DM has some great source material to work with.

    ReplyDelete
  8. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete