Sellers of Silver Souls and Secrets

Ice Flight Exalted Guard Uniforms and Rankings

The previous iteration of these was getting rather old, so here’s a revamped overview of the structure of the IEG. 

Big Lore / Worldbuilding Dump Under the Cut: 

Info on the six wardens and their holdings c/p’d from the lore discord: 

Kairan is in charge of The Eastern Points. She controls the most well used entrance to the territory and the main gate of FoE is in her Ward. Her ward also has the best weather. And her reputation is that of being super mean. Wardens of the First have a history of being so. Despite having ice primal, and no real directionality to her gaze, she does have a stare that can cut glass. While she does walk with a cane she also knows how to use it for other stuff. But also if she likes you she really likes you and being on her good side is very very good.

Paselxi rules The Western Points with the third busiest port in the icefields. His ward also contains Dripcave and technically The Fortress by some measures. His main duty is record keeper. The Library of the Fortress of Ends is in his Ward of the Fortress and he takes that job very seriously. Also in this canon, the Warden of the Second, one of his ancestors, was the one who ordered the attack that wiped out the Banescale. Mostly Xihe is a huge nerd. He and Kairan's relationship is something approaching sibling-esque.

Yacai (Baby (Derogatory)) rules the Ward of Fear's Reach, also known as East Cloudscrape Coastal or Varnekat... or at least he does on paper. His actual tower and whole base of operations is at Frostguard in the First Ward. His section of The Fortress contains the Temple of Icewarden and his title is High Priest though he is.... getting better at it. He is the youngest of the wardens having taken up the position at (in human years) age 17 after his predecessor, his father, got super murdered. Caihe needs a therapist.

Uskona is in charge of Aurora / South Snowsquall. The asscrack of the world where nobody goes or wants to go it's cold as all hell (and kinda pretty) but there's really really no reason to go there unless you want a kickass place to die. It's also where FoE keeps their Special Collections, which is to say the ABSOLUTELY DO NOT TOUCH THAT area. Oh is there some weird shit in there. Uskona herself is pretty chill though. She's the tallest warden and also the most difficult one to actually get a message to. Everybody expects her to be super distant and cold but in a hypothetical modern AU she would be the one snapchatting actually very good memes at her guardsmen.

Koreskoga rules Central Pass and Reclaimers. In the Fortress of Ends, the Fifth and Sixth Wards share the Market Grounds and the Ceremony Hall. Koga is the tax master and master of the treasury. He's the oldest warden and also the most approachable, at least outwardly. He likes people and getting to know people. Can often be found just chilling in Hailstrike he has a few favorite cafes he visits often. He will offer you something hot to drink and let you sit with him if you want, all the while speaking the most stiff, formal, almost archaic sounding Aurekal you've ever heard.

In the west of the continent lies a land which no god claims, too distant from powers, unsoiled by magic, craggy and unwelcoming, but neutral none the less.

In these mountains lay the largest swath of Sornieth untouched by the most recent age, left just the way it had been in the days before the shattering. In the days before the end as well, perhaps.

Though it is no good for many basic things, it is home to the most free of the beastclans. They flock here to escape the claws of dragon kind for here they may really and truly have control.

Sub Regions:

Northspine Frontier: the center of the allied beastclans power, humble compared to its Draconic peers but but a great thing none the less. Hilly along its coastline and canyons in its north, and mountains in its south.

Deadwood Highland: the largest of the territories, made of rolling hills and low, ancient mountains. Here the forests of bamboo and birch and deadwood trees of rotrock rim meet and mix.

Risenmount: the highest peaks of the ancient range thrust all the higher by the cataclysm at the end of the second age. Deep pocket valleys and caverns dot the landscape here. This is a place for those who do not wish to be found.

A Timeline of Kyde’s Existence on Sornieth Part 3

1280 - Kyde, now in doll form, is placed under the care of The Black Spear’s leaders who take the time to experiment with the possibility of safely destroying them. No solution is ever found, but they continue to try every so often. 

1804 - The Black Spear’s high magister is accused of secretly harboring a shade infection. The organization calls for them to be purged, but they refuse, sparking the first of many schisms to come. 

2049 - Kyde is juggled between the increasingly divided branches and chapters of The Order of the Black Spear. They find their new home in the hands of the Light Flight Exalted Mages. 

2056 - The main headquarters of The Order in Dawnbreak burns. Everything is believed to be destroyed in the flames. Remaining parts of The Black Spear across Sornieth die out over the following decades.

2131 - The Keeper system is put in place by the exalted mages organizations of Earth, Light, and Arcane flights with the intent of sharing the burden of keeping Kyde contained and in check. The rotation begins between five original keepers.

2940 - Archeologists uncover a portion of The Black Spear’s record room untouched by the fire centuries before. What information is still salvagable is recopied and reinstated as public record in the Beaconsgate Library. 

3175 - The first new keeper is welcomed to the cycle, relieving the eldest of the first five.

3651 - Yet another new keeper enters the cycle, the youngest by far. Kosa takes up a new sixth position meant to reduce the stress on the four elder keepers as they age. He is much more brazen in his watch, but diligent none the less. 

A Timeline of Kyde’s Existence on Sornieth Part 2

1098 - Black Spear hunters investigate shade activity in a remote village on the Tangled Wood’s north coast. There they find and battle a shade thrall which the two survivors of the encounter identify as Kydalga of Avosen.

1098-1171 - The Black Spear (and other shade hunting groups) encounter Kyde about once every few years. Each time, the hunters attempt to kill them, but are unsuccessful. Each time, Kyde grows both stronger and more violent.

1182 - After more than a decade of silence, Kyde makes their first purely offensive move. They attack and destroy an Exalted outpost on the River Dusk. There ultimately are no survivors.

1182-1256 - Kyde continues to attack shade hunters and exalted where ever they can be found all over northern Sornieth. It is presumed that their work with the shade enhancing their own power continues.

1256 - Kyde’s increasingly erratic movements begin to target random clans and travelers. This is the first time their actions defy any kind of strategy.

1275 - Kyde is flushed out of their hide out in eastern Sunbeam. Rather than just battle their attackers, they turn their wrath on everything and everyone around them. Moving north, they carve a path of destruction across the country side and to the coast where they raze the University at Cast to the ground.

1277-78 - The Order of the Black Spear sets Kyde as priority number one, and draws on all of its resources to attempt to predict where they will be and set up an ambush and spell to capture them. The plan takes two full years to put together and involves the participation of three flights and cooperation of thousands.

1278 - The capture does not go smoothly, but it is successful. They are forcibly purged of as much shade as magical knowledge of the time was capable. Many are surprised that they survive the process. With their power greatly reduced, they are captured and brought in for trial.

A Timeline of Kyde’s Existence on Sornieth Part 1

991 - Kydalga of Avosen rises to prominence as a steel mage of great talent. They work as a mercenary for hire doing jobs in the mountains of Northern Starfall and Southern Cairnstone Rest. Their price tag rises steadily as does their skill. Ultimately they decide that hired work is beneath them and set their sites on academia where their brilliance with magic will be appreciated.

1008 - They become a professor of magical arts at the Observatory College. Teaching is much more satisfying, seeing how the students look up to them. There is much for them to learn as well while they work toward tenure.

1071 - Kyde grows bored of teaching. Thankfully, their long term at the college gives them some liberties. Their normal research on magical theory takes a dive toward the fringes and they begin to research The Shade and its effects on magic casting. 

1079 - The research is going well, at least in their eyes, but the administration disapproves. The dispute between them and the college grows to the point of going public. Under pressure from the local clans, Kyde’s research is shut down. Angry, they storm out looking for greener pastures elsewhere. 

1081 - A new career begins at the University at South Sundial, across the continent where their shame does not exist. Kyde becomes a professor once again and discretely siphons funding into their old research, this time under the table. 

1085-92 - Kyde jumps ship at South Sundial before the paper trail becomes too obvious and they are caught in a scandal. They move through several more Light Flight institutions with the same trick. Ultimately they end up at the University at Cast. Without test subjects to work on, they begin experimenting on themselves, discovering that they can use the shade to amplify their own abilities. 

Fire Flight World Building Part 2

Guild structure dominates politics and daily life.

As an example, let's take the largest of them, the Blacksmiths' Guild. Any clan in the territory is likely to have its own blacksmith or blacksmiths, and they are likely guild members. There is a tremendous amount of social and economic pressure to join since membership comes with a level of prestige and a guarantee that one’s work is up to a certain standard which brings in customers.

Being a member of the guild also brings in contract work. When the Fortress of Ends needs steel chain, they approach the guild with an offer, 100g a length for however many thousand lengths of chain. The Guild then takes this offer to its members, assigning each of a number of them to make a more manageable number of them for a slightly marked down payout. Blacksmiths all over the territory get work and The Guild pockets a neat profit.

Of course, there is an expected level of quality. Any smith who submits contracts that aren’t up to snuff are forced to remake to standard, and often slapped with a fine as well. This means customers ordering from the guild are ensured that they’ll get good work every time.

When your clan’s warrior needs a new sword, you hire a trusted local blacksmith to get it done. When your whole militia needs arms, you go to the guild.

Such is the way of things for the vast majority of artisans in the land of fire. For some, guild work makes up the majority of their income, especially for those in more niche or luxury professions like glass blowing. The Guilds allow those in more remote areas to participate in the greater world with their trade, but this also allows them to exert a tremendous amount of power.

Fire Flight World Building Part 1

For those who don't know, my pet project for the past very long while has been making up convoluted political systems for Sornieth's dragon flights. So far I've done Ice and Lightning Flights, and now I'm taking a stab at Fire.

Like always, these are my headcanons. Anyone is free to use or reference them if they'd like. I'd like credit and notification if anyone's using my ideas but in the end you're your own person.

Now to start, we'll need to talk about Guilds:

A guild is a large organization centered around a craft or trade (in my own loose terms). The Ashfall guilds are large and powerful organizations which promote the business of creation and craftsmanship all across Sornieth. There is a guild for almost everything, and guild membership is a way of life. The 16 major guilds form four guild alliances which serve the majority of popular professions.

See the list of guilds and alliances under the cut

Now in timeline form. Like normal I’m starting off with the disclaimer these are my headcanons You’re free to use them or reference them if you want but don’t take them as gospel or anything. 

Under the cut is a full time line from the shattering of the pillar to right now. It diverges from canon quite a bit, but this is the atmosphere of my lore:

Plus a little bit...

I'm taking another pass at rewriting the canon lore. I don't like the original version so here's my telling of what really happened.

Once upon a time there was magic and space

And then there were the gods.

They rose as their elements crashed and merged and split, one by one in order of power and purity. First came Earth, then Fire, then Wind, then Water. From Earth and fire came Shadow and Ice and Light. From Wind and Water came Lightning. From Water and Lightning sprung Life. From life came Chaos. From them came Venom and Blood and Clan all down the line until the full pantheon had sprung to life. In total, the gods numbered Twenty One.

Currently in Progress: 10 Dec. 2019 - Present

Story: [ Parts 1 - 8 ] [ Parts 9 - 16 ] [ Parts 17 - 20 ]

[ Flight Rising Forums Thread ]

The Tale of a Lord Pt. 35

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The way was clear as ever, even with eyes blinded by tears and throat choked with the pure reviling emotion of it all. The path to the waterway lay in a wake of red from the high chamber down through the great hall and into the courtyard of Salecei Keep where the surging roar became too much

The Tale of a Lord Pt. 34

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It was… easy

It was so very easy. That night’s trip to Corant was short. The look of confused, but pleasant surprise on the guardsman’s face. That same look on the faces of many. A silent work. A silent goodbye. The numbness of it never truly faded, but it was part way into the tunnels of the water way that Kadrobal began to weep.

Exhilaration, sorrow, fear, illness, indifference, rage… all of them fought tooth and nail inside him and the blood of their battle flowed from him in ragged sobs that echoed down the stone sewers. The sound of heavy weight dragged across rough stone fell away. Rushing water and plodding footsteps disappeared as well. All drowned in the sound of his own being. He collapsed and he wept, waiting for the grip to loosen, for the tide to subside and to find himself waking up on the stone to truly grasp what he'd done, but it did not come. It did not fade until the morning bells clanged above and he stumbled his way to the surface.

Even then, there was the dullest buzz of magic and heart gripping energy that remained. It was no longer the white hot drive it had been, but he felt no remorse for what he had done.

The body was disposed of within the hour, burned along with everything but a small  journal which was spirited upstairs to where Drobal knew he would not be disturbed. His hands shook as he flipped through the scrawled pages. He poured over every word. How much had Dashe known? The suspects narrowed. Day 26: 30 suspected. In another month down to just 10.

Day 41: Kadrobal’s own name struck from the list.

It had taken some time, but in the end Lord Dashe had been too trusting. Too close to the case. The book struck the ground with a scream of anger and frustration.

Liren appeared a moment later, her face of concern melting into confusion at the sight of her mate drenched in rain water as though he’d weathered a great storm. His tired eyes stared into her own, their normal soft gold now turned empty. Her words were drowned to him by the thud of his own heartbeat in his ears as she bent down and lifted the damp notebook. “This… is from Corant… why do you have this?”

You stand on the shore watching the winter fishing boats bob on the icy water below. It's cold but that's better than the alternative. Out on the horizon, the storm looms, spinning over the sea, kept at bay by the chill, but not for long. Spring will start any day.

The water is getting warmer. The whole village is busy hard at work. Everyone buzzes about gathering food, boarding windows, stocking shelters. Everyone but you. You need your rest.

Up on the cliffs the kites come down one by one. The balloons and ribbons all disappear, taken below to fly again the next year. The winds are strong and fog rolls across the village each morning.

The difference is like night and day now, clear skies to the north, and the angry wall of clouds to the south. You stand on the cliffs edge and watch it slowly approach. The thought of it makes you shiver.

Today the weather is pleasant. Winter has truly broken and the spring festival is here. Still the cyclone looms closer on the water. The hatchlings follow you around the village asking questions and bringing you flowers or food. They tie little ribbons on your horns. You laugh with them.

Today the fog does not lift. The sun filters through mist that turns to rain. The wind howls. You go up to the cliffs. 36 knots. The next day the villagers go down into the shelter. You stay out a while longer before following them in.

This year's board goes up above the tavern bar. You take your knife to it that morning, taking your time. “42 knots”

The numbers go up one day at a time 50, 53, 58, you carve them in for the village to see along side board after board, year after year. The storm wails outside.

You open the door and the wind roars into the shelter, nearly blowing you back, but you resist, you push your way out, defying it's will. The shelter blows shut.

“100 knots” the storm is strong this year. Your whole body stings with fresh cuts even as you put your knife away. The tavern is quiet.

You think today is midsummer. No one is keeping track. The hatchlings ask you how fast the wind is now. You tell them you don't know to make them go away.

The shelter groans as the pressure shifts and you frown at the board, a fresh 112 carved onto its surface. It should have broken by now.

It should have broken two weeks ago. Your bones ache and your hide stings and your wings are nothing but tatters at your side. You bury your knife in the board half way through a “140” with a frustrated growl. The rest of the clan watches in a mix of nervousness and quiet sympathy.

145. You are tired of dried fish. You only check once a week now for fear you might go up to the cliffs and not return. This summer has lasted eternities.

Today is midsummer. Apparently someone was keeping a calendar. The medics set your bandages again. You do not go up today.

There's a slight drop today. 149 down from 152. The clan looks on with hope as you work the numbers into the wood. There have been false alarms before.

You are done missing days. The medics yell at you as you stomp toward the door. You have a job to do. The wind speed is 150 knots.

That was a bad idea. That was a horrible idea. You tell the nurses this as they patch you up and scold you for reopening old cuts. You don't care really. The pain will pass. It's not as though your wings had been usable anyway.

The bartender cracks open a new barrel as you dance (rather painfully) across the room. 124! You shout it another time before flipping your knife from your hip.

The receding side is always more forgiving… or rather by then you'd suffered the worst, so braving this barrage didn't feel so bad. Now you let yourself smile every now and then as you watch the numbers fall and enjoy the fact that your ears don't ring when you stumble back into the shelters.

At 80 knots you declare the inner cove open and Autumn fishing begins. The clan celebrates while the fishermen go back to work, putting together stockpiles for next year. The bartender slips you a bottle of something nice as a partial thank you. You down it and fall asleep.

The roar quiets to a howl and the howl to a rattling as the storm recedes back into it's winter cage. You document it's going on the board one day at a time until finally the fog breaks and day shines down into the shelters.

The air is cool and crisp as you walk down to the shore. You watch the wall of darkened clouds spin over the water. Your body is draped in equal parts ribbon and gauze. Another year passed and another season of suffering Windsinger's wrath.

The Tale of a Lord Pt. 33

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This was, Drobal believed, the longest he had ever held off the grip on his heart. It gave him hope in a strange distant sense, but that light was so easily drowned in the sea of dread that filled him to his very brim. His mind raced as he stared across the balcony of his chambers with exhausted eyes, head bloody from where he’d bashed it against the wall again and again. The bronze surface of his pearl, his secrets, brushed against his palm.

All the while the same words: He knows He knows He knows, each repetition bringing up a sting of ice cold and fire hot within him. There was a next step. A next thought. He refused it.

He will find you.

He will kill you.

It's what you deserve

It's what a coward deserves

But you are not a coward

“I will kill him first.” He said it aloud for the first time. So many days gone without hearing the dreadful words but now they seemed to take form inside him.