Prelude
“You do not understand. I must leave in order to learn what it is these visions of mine entail. If I am right, then, the Destroyer is trying to return,” the young, petite woman spoke urgently, her auburn hair pulled into a tight bun behind her head. Her voice echoed off from the walls of the marble chamber in which she stood.
“Talia, I have already told you, it is simply too dangerous for you to leave while the Forsaken are about.” The blonde haired woman spoke through the hooded veil of her long black robes, her mysteriously blue eyes illuminating beneath the shadow.
“High priestess Angelica, I am telling you, I have not another choice. I need to learn what mine visions mean. If there is any chance that the Destroyer is returning, we must make any sacrifice to ensure that he cannot.” Talia spoke firmly while feverishly whirling her fingers, trying to fasten her light grey cloak around her shoulders.
“Talia, I am not about to repeat myself again! You are simply too valuable for us to risk. The last priestess to be blessed with Aneira’s sight died centuries ago. We must use your abilities for their true purpose, the return of Aneira.” A large man with a thick black beard, armor gleaming gold, red and silver stepped forward and stood next to Talia.
“Mistress Angelica, I will travel to the shrines with Mistress Talia and ensure that no harm befalls her. I swear it on my very life.” Angelica and Talia both grew quite stiff and uncomfortable.
“Sir Marec, will you make the blood oath? Will you swear upon your life and your very soul that you will protect Talia from any dangers that she may face?” Marec cleared his throat and straightened before responding. Talia shook her head interrupting Marec.
“Please Sir Marec, you do not have to do this. If anything were to happen to me then you would die.”
“I am aware of the penalty for breaking a blood oath, though I am willing to go through with it none the less.” Marec nodded his head, his stern expression unchanged. The black robed woman looked at Marec and nodded her head.
“Do this and I shalt not impede your path. However, I demand your return well before the eclipse. It is imperative that you be here in order to fulfill your true mission.”
“I Marec Kaldur, paladin of Aneira, swear on my life to protect the priestess Talia Degracia from danger.” Marec continued with a sacred ritual that required him to make a small incision on the palm of his hand. They could hear a crack of thunder off in the distance as Marec’s blood began to glow brightly. After he was finished, Angelica contemplated in silence for a moment.
“Very well, Sir Marec, you are to escort Talia to the other shrines and help her decipher her visions.”
“It shall be done, mistress.” Marec clapped his hand to his chest while dropping to a knee.
“Thank you High Priestess Angelica.” Talia graciously thanked the elder, black-robed woman. Talia and Marec left the grand temple of Aneira without further notice in order to begin their voyage to journey to the other shrines.
The Aneiran shrines, centers of religious salvation which are scattered throughout the continent, pay homage to the goddess Aneira, matron goddess of Valascaana and Highmooria. The Grand Aneiran Cathedral protects their principles, beliefs and traditions. This focal point of Aneira’s power lies in Valascaana. It was once believed that the true shrine of Aneira, the original goddess spire, lie somewhere far to the west. The true spire was said to be surrounded by high mountains on all sides, only being accessible to the most worthy and capable of Aneira’s children and was even rumored to house her throne. Despite the rumors, none have ever found the true spire of the goddess. Pilgrims from all across the continent flood to the gates of the goddess spire that rests within the Grand Aneiran Cathedral in Valascaana.
This imitation spire of the goddess, though not the original, still serves as a wonder of the world. The structure of the spire, rivals all other constructs on the Exodon, with its sky piercing height. From a distance, it is nearly impossible for travelers to see the highest floors of the tower, without peering through the veil of clouds.
It is not only the sheer size of the spire, which marvels the people but the interior as well. Carved from ancient stone, with a lost technique from ancient age, the entire interior of the spire appears to be made of marble stone. Endless, spiraling stairways, wrap the interior of the spire, which is connected to the Grand Cathedral. It is once you have reached the top of the spire that you come upon the true wonder of the spire, the oculus. Though none understand its purpose, or when it was created, the oculus when opened, allows the clearest view into the heavens, making it a well sought after destination.
Valascaana, as a whole, is a rich and relatively level country, filled with woodlands and plains. Traditional roads and caravan trails, allow for transportation of goods between the heavily populated cities of the nation. The capitol city, Valascaa, is a densely populated city. It is filled with rich heritage and residing upon the westernmost peninsula, is the largest port in the country.
Due to this, large assemblies of caravans often line the streets, transporting goods from the port to the other towns, cities and villages in the area. Most prominently; Roak and Kroas, in the north, Ternia to the east and the Grand Shrine to the south. Traveling diplomats, from across the ocean, also call upon Valascaa to serve as their home, when abroad.
Towards its southern borders, lie vast lengths of rolling hilltops, which eventually lead to the Grand Shrine, housing the Grand Cathedral, and to the ocean. The Grand Shrine, essentially a city of its own, houses much of the Aneiran order. Though most of its activities, happen upon the cathedral grounds, a small village does stretch out from it. Tall, stonewalls defend the shrine, and in the heart of the cathedral, lies the goddess spire.
To the far north, past the cities of Roak and Kroas, hidden from the world, lies the Vestigian Circle, a mountain range to the north, where proud cities were once carved into the mountain faces. Though the cities have been cut off from the rest of the world, it is here that Valascaana’s main territorial enemy, the beastmen, hail from.
Looking upon the map of the Exodon, you will find Valascaana, resting on the western edge, while its sister, Highmooria, resides between it and the lands of the Forsaken, the Scar. Highmooria was once a rich, fertile land of endless forests, filled with natural wonders. It truly was a place of magic and miracles, most fairy tales in the land having been inspired by ventures into the Highmoorian forests.
Beyond the forests, other phenomena existed, one being Ariadne’s Wood, a place where the great Nymph, Ariadne, created a safe haven for all creatures loved by Aneira. At the heart of her sanctuary, another shrine to Aneira, was built beneath the earth. Scholars believed that the shrine had been built by an unknown race of peoples but no record existed to prove such a claim.
Beyond Ariadne’s wood, lies the heart of Highmooria, the capitol city of Highmoore. The capitol city, crowned, the jewel of the Exodon, was surrounded by a number of high stonewalls, each housing massive fields for farming and even an entire city within. In the centermost wall, the magnificent Castle Highmoore rested proudly, the former seat of power in the Exodon. Beyond the walls of Highmoore, several cities, had chained together, to be close to the jewel. Now, no one, since its fall, has ventured through the mountain passes connecting Valascaana and Highmooria and returned to report upon its state.
The three lands of the Exodon, Valascaana, Highmooria and the Scar, were once one, in the time of Aneira but were soon separated amidst the chaos of a great war by an ancient evil, the god Daemon.
With Aneira’s guidance, the lands of Valascaana and Highmooria defeated the forces of the evil god and struck a terrible blow to the land now known as the Scar. The Scar, once a rich country surrounded by beautiful mountain tops, grew tainted and barren Now, it holds nothing but deserts and wastelands populated by the descendants of the once mighty army, now the Forsaken, those banished and untouched by Aneira’s love.
Over the millennia, the Forsaken have risen up time and time again but with each generation of Forsaken, legions of united Valascaans and Highmoorians have risen up to strike them down. The mightiest of the paladins, the fabled Sidonis was the last great paladin to face the Forsaken on the battlefield. His name became the legend that young men aspire to become. It was he, who founded both the Valorian knights of the capital city of Valascaa and the Aneiran paladins of the Highmoorian capital, Highmoore.
Two centuries later, the Imperial council, having long since lost the royal line that once governed them, rules Valascaana. Highmooria, which continued their sacred duty of defending the border to the Scar was lost eleven years ago to the last great tide of Forsaken who have all but disappeared. Now, the refugees of Highmooria reside within Valascaana, led by the Imperial council, have nearly lost their former heritage.
Deamon’s forces quelled, the light of Aneira has spread to touch all corners of the Exodon. The children of Aneira sleep soundly in their beds for the darkness of their nightmares ceases to exist in the waking world, or so it is told.
