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Thread: The Eight Realms - How do they look like?

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    Re: The Eight Realms - How do they look like?

    Thanks, as usual your insight is very articulate and appreciated.

    I've been working on general notes, a mixture of information I've been gathering and my own imagination, in order to give the Realms a bit of substance and life. Especially the Realms of Death, Shadow and Light, which seem to me the most difficult to represent in a "here people live their own lives" aspect.


    INTO the REALM of ULGU

    Picture an old northern harbor, deep within the mists, bathed in dim dusklight, immersed in a sea of fog, clogged, oppressed. Here, there is always light, for it scatters everywhere, coming from the diffuse boundaries with Hysh, the Luminary; but it is a... fickle light. More akin to moonlight or to a stormy sunrise. Here, the sounds, the feelings, the thoughts are all diminished by the atmosphere. In Hysh, shadow is the absence of light. In here, though, shade is the presence of Ulgu, and a very tangible thing. The mists are alive and have their own goals, plan their own plots and keep their own secrets. Things are never what they seem, always shrouded in a mystery older than the world itself.

    The land stretches unseen for miles, and the landscape changes, riles and shivers with the breeze. It is a world of slow change, sluggish ebb and flow, where the only possible direction is to stay put, or to run in circles. Here, shadows are the embodiement of Entropy, in opposition to the order that the Light of Hysh brings to the Lands of the Luminary. Entropy, though, is not Chaos. Chaos is fervor, excess, violent transmutation, impatience, sturm and drang. Entropy is calm, quiet, numb, still.

    Here, men know that reality is shifting, that time is a-wasting, that all things come to an end, but they also live in a grey world of mystery and illusion. They are master riddlers, they understand that everything has an underlying intention, that the world is hiding secrets under its sheets. They speak in tongues that mimic the sounds of their dark nature; the wind, the rain, thunder and storm, and because Ulgu numbs sound as much as vision, they have become experts in sign language and light codes. They are wanderers, nomads, tricksters, never trusting the land to hold a building for long, never knowing if they will see anyone tomorrow, never being able to comprehend a world where the sky is blue and the horizon is vast. For a while, the Shrouded Kings led a coallition of nomad clans and were the most powerful men in Ulgu, the Firstborn of Mother Myst, until the Shadow King Malerion contested their rule. Now the Shrouded Kings worship Malerion as the Shadow King and Mother Myst as the generatrix goddess.

    There are also other inhabitants in Ulgu, those that came from beyond the Great Gates; Azyrites, Aqshians, Chamonites, and other peoples brough forth by Sigmar's Tempest. They have tried to tame Ulgu and make it their own, with varying degrees of success. The Shademen look at them passing by and shrug. They will never last, they think. Their buildings will crumble, their towers will collapse, their light will vanish, eaten by the Eternal Mists. They labor to build lighthouses, barriers and to clear the mist as if it was a forest to be cut down and tamed. But this is the Land of Shadow, and darkness will always win. The Shademen bring their trades, do their business and continue their way, knowing that the Myst has a prupose for them, and shall devour them once thir purpose is complete. There's the Aegis, the famed Ivory Dome of the Knights-Serene, Sigmar's bridgehead in Ulgu, built around a priceless relic, the Hand of Khaine; there's Ulambra, the Silent Hall of the Ordo Occultam, an alliance of Light and Grey wizards; there's Rh'yz, the Mysteric Labirinth, a plain filled with the shadows of the dead that the Myst reclaimed for Herself, and which is guarded by the ever-stern Sisterhood of the Owl, always weary of Nagash's attempts to take the souls back; there's Rho-Dai, the White Pyramid established by Tellurio Critizo, still trying to tame the Ulgulands and establish a "haven of respite within the fog". The Shademen look at them and move on. The only respite is in the Myst. The only true sleep, is life in Ulgu. Soothing, inviting, like a siren calling a sailor, like an old man attempting to live forever. Hopeful but pointless.

    They know what lurks beneath the Shade, beyond the Curtain. Dark gods lurk within the corners of Ulgulands, in portentous slumber, godbeasts born with the end of the World That Was, maybe even before that, drinking the essence of the Mist from time immemorial. Gods with a thousand names and recipients of a thousand sacrifices, beings of unfathomable power that no one remembers, beasts that even the Chaos champions avoid, incarnations of the Ulgumen's beliefs and creeds about the Myst, the Secret and the Occult.

    It is said, after all, that when the Shroud falls upon all lands, secrets shall be kept for all eternity, death shall be defeated, life shall freeze in its place, fire shall fickle and dim, metal shall cool, beasts shall turn meek, the sky shall close to the eyes of men and light shall die, consumed by the Shadow. That, they know.


    What do you think? I tried to keep the tone of the old WH lore pieces, a bit more in-world and characterful.
    Last edited by Cèsar de Quart; 22-10-2017 at 14:29.

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