The Church of the Brilliant Light

This and the following posts made in the coming weeks will be focused on giving a brief overview of each faction in Zoflar, I will then expand on each one going through their structures and whatnot. For now lets just see where the ideas take me after I lay down everything. 

 

 

 

The Church of the Brilliant Light has long stood as one of the largest, and most influential, religious institutions in all of Zoflar. Its numbers continue to grow, since more, and more, Zoflari are formally recognized as Alnur Brillante. The Church welcomes all who wish to devote themselves to the service of the Brilliant Light.

On paper, the Church does not accept anyone unwilling to embrace the Light, and it presents itself as charitable in its recruitment. If a Zoflari from the Bog willingly chooses to risk their life to become an Alnur, and afterwards accepts the thankless duties of a priest of the Brilliant Light, the Church is willing to receive them. These duties include the maintenance of the sacred scents, including the Saphrune, the cleaning of the Church’s quarters, the preaching of the truth of the Light, and the seeking out of new prospects within the Bog.

Joining the Church is officially described as a voluntary act undertaken by Zoflari who wish to rid themselves of the Beggar’s Scent. The scent, of course, never truly fades, although many still hope it might. Priests who demonstrate unwavering devotion to the Light, who labour endlessly, who spread its teachings, and who perform the many tasks assigned to them, are said to ascend beyond their former state. According to Church doctrine, they may purge themselves of the Beggar’s Scent entirely, and become Altur Brillante, meaning “The exalted by Light.” These figures serve as head priests, and are recognized as members of the upper strata of Zoflari society, with their former lives, and the disgrace of their scent, officially expunged.

The story of Saint Renafram is often repeated. He is said to be the only Zoflari to have achieved this ascension, centuries ago, so long ago that no record can verify the truth. Nevertheless, the head Altur continue to teach the same prayers, and psalms, and the same tale of ascension, to their lesser brethren, urging them to strive, to obey, and to serve.

 

Further Reading: 

The Zoflari 

The Beggar's Scent  

 

The Beggar's Scent

 

The Zoflari pride themselves in how they smell, so much so that scents in Zoflari culture determine one's status. Every clan, temple, and member of the nobility have their scents in Zoflar. 

The Zoflari make it no secret and rarely hide their disgust from others with a different or inferior scent. Naturally, during the reign of King Haekma, the scents became more than a thing you prided yourself on. Now, scents determine your actual status within Zoflar. " The scents convey truth and intention", King Haekma would often say. (It has even become a staple in the Zoflari lexicon).

Whenever the Zoflari are mentioned, elegance, beauty and extravagance are often brought up. Most people do not know that the Zoflari image implanted in every nation's mind is a facade instead of talking about the high and noble scents. Let us examine rock bottom. All the way down. 

The Beggar's Scent

The Beggar's scent is the natural scent of the Zoflari; all self-respecting Zoflari get their newborns doused in whatever scent they can access before it sets in. Anything is better than the Beggar's scent. 

Let us say, for some reason or another, a Zoflari is to be stuck with this particular accursed scent. And let us say they do not decide to end their miserable lives right then and there. What would life in Zoflar look like for such low-born scum?

The Scum of Zoflar

A Zoflari who cannot acquire a scent is disallowed from the city centre and is only permitted to travel escorted by the city guard and only through the outskirts of the city. Not that moving about the city is easy for such people. Most, if not all, are petty criminals, disgusting filth. The ever-righteous king Haekma has designated them their own district in which to live. The Bog. The Bog is more like an entire city than a district. It's the complete opposite of Zoflar's city centre. The people of Zoflar need not know what goes on in the Bog. 

The Bog

Rarely does anyone leave the Bog; some enjoy being lesser. As they should...

Zoflari who somehow get ahold of a scent, be it they were drafted into the city guard or scouted to join a temple of the various religions across Zoflar. Some even manage to get ahold of scents smuggled by one of the Bog's gangs. Everyone is trying to make a name for themselves in the Bog. The guards are quickly silenced with a few coins chucked their way. It is not their problem to deal with. It is not as simple as it sounds, though. As people who "escape", the Bog still have to fight an uphill battle to be treated normally. The Beggar's scent lingers. People can tell if a person isn't from the centre. The Bog's stench lingers. Nevertheless, they get recognized officially as Alnur Brillante -- "The guided by light".

The scent used by the Alnurs is known as the Saphrune. A mix of blue powder and local Zoflari flowers. The supply of it is controlled by the Church of the Brilliant Light. 

The Borekin

/ˈbɔːr.kɪn/

 

 

Origins and Culture

Tales of the Borekin, a forgotten breed of monsters that once used to be a prominent part of our world, have been woven for millennia. The Borekin originated from the earth itself, where it is said that various rocks and stone gave birth to the first Borekin.The Conquest of Calardion was marked by The Great King's decree to eradicate these foul creatures. They were not mere beasts, but savage entities with faces resembling a disfigured human. Only a bore would think to wed something so hideous. Hence, the name. The Borekin were not just strong, but possessed a raw power that was beyond imagination. Legend whispers of their ability to effortlessly tear a grown man in two with nothing but their bare hands. The very thought of such power is enough to send shivers down one's spine, leaving them in awe and questioning what other incredible feats these creatures could accomplish.

The Borekin lead simple lives. They would hunt, breed, and defend their territory. They are very dangerous based on what the texts tell us. But they don't seem to go out and attack randomly. As long as you respect their territory, they will not approach you. It is believed that some Zolflari kings had pacts with Borekin. These pacts were not just for mutual protection, but also for maintaining a delicate balance of power in the region. Pacts that would ensure Zolflari wouldn't be invaded from the south. King Béll-divora, son of Hém-divora, decided to give up farmlands to the south. They were giving all of it to the Borekin. With the Borekin's territorial nature, this was a surefire way to guarantee safety from the south.

Magic 

Only a little is known about their use of magic, but if the texts are to be believed. They had shamans who would use their energies from their unbridled rage and anger. So, magic for the Borekins is a means of war. The Elfearan of the Northern Crystal Deserts uses a similar way of magic, where they channel their feelings of pride into their land, bending it to their castes' will.

Appearance

We do not have sufficient descriptions of what the Borekin look like, aside from them being described as vile and hideous. Whatever they may have looked like, they were loyal to a fault. For hundreds of years, they have stayed south, dealt with their own problems, and troubled no one as long as they didn't step into their territory uninvited. With a select few picking up their odd tongue, they were able to strike deals with their neighbours. They'd also send tributes in the form of pelts and precious stones to the great king as gratitude for his grandfather, for the Borekin remembered a kind deed.

Language

Yet, the true challenge lay not in their strength or territoriality but in their unique Mode of communication. The Borekin conversed through a series of guttural sounds, each one carrying a specific meaning. These sounds would shift into short chants, a form of communication unique to their culture. These chants, when combined, culminated in a language that was often unbearable to the uninitiated. This Mode of communication was not just a way to exchange information but an essential aspect of their identity and culture. Dealing with the Borekin was a task that many found daunting, especially considering that each tribe had its own unique guttural dialect. Legend has it that the great king, in a bid to prevent the spread of this 'filth ', ordered the hanging of all who spoke their language, making what little trade and diplomacy they had with them impossible.

The Great Cleansing

So, naturally, no one expected the Great Cleansing to happen. The Great King saw that the Borekin were not pure. How dare these creatures be so close to the Zolflari with nothing to show for it except for pelts and shiny rocks. And above all their stench, they stunk more than a filthy lowborn. (As status was based on smell). The Borekin had made a fatal mistake that would see them wiped out.

Are there any Borekin left? It's a question that has recordkeepers stumped. For I, we are still determining if they still exist. Rumours and tall tales about brown humanoids with fangs as big as a carrot have been circulating lately. But they are nothing more than that... tales.

Further Reading

The Zoflari

Stonebacks

 

/ˈstoʊnˌbæks/

 
The Stonebacks of Laylakar tower over most beings in this world, with their imposing stature reaching heights of up to 30 feet. They embody gluttony and greed, with their appetites being ever so initiable; their goal is to endlessly consume while simultaneously showcasing their superiority over lesser beings. It is said that they can live on for millennia, with their longevity directly tied to their gluttony and the greater need for sustenance as they age. Their everlasting hunger drives them to devour not only food but also minerals, magic and sometimes, the essence of life itself. An ancient Stoneback is nothing to scoff at; they are beings of immense power, sustained by the countless lives and resources they have absorbed. The Stoneback’s innate ability to become one with its environment depends on the Stoneback itself; you might find some melding into the rocky crags of mountains and others disappearing into dense verdant forests. Stonebacks are solitary creatures by nature; they only come together to mate or clash over territory and food.

Batten, John Dickson (UK, 1860-1932)

How does one deal with a Stoneback? For one, encountering a Stoneback is a rare (often fatal) experience. Every Stoneback stinks (literally); a foul stench precedes the Stonebacks, a rancid odour that emanates from their eyes. This peculiar trait is a telltale sign of a Stoneback’s presence, even if they conceal themselves. They are crafty, though; while blending in with their environment, the Stonebacks close their eyes, which causes the malodorous scent to dissipate, making it easier to hide and hunt unsuspecting adventureers. You’d do yourself a favour if you brought a bard proficient with big bells or chimes or a magic user with a spell that can generate a cacophony of noise. This will disorient the Stonebacks and disrupt their camouflage; you might even incapacitate them for a short while if the sound is annoying. If you take a Stoneback down, look at its “tattoos” carved into its flesh. They are no mere decoration; they tell us the age of the Stoneback, and each scar is a year. Some are bigger than others; scholars theorize that the bigger the scar, the bigger the event that caused it. Some say it represents an entire century, but no one truly knows. But you’d have to take it down first, which is not so likely. Stonebacks have disproportionately large hands, resembling those of great apes. Logically, one would think they’d be lumbering slowly towards their target; in reality, they have a terrifying quadrupedal sprint, something that can’t be believed until seen.

Euphoric Necratosis

Euphoric Necratosis, known as Rapture Rot by the common folk, is a rare and deadly affliction. Its victims experience constant escalations in their emotions, ranging from intense joy to uncontrollable anger or sadness; each "emotional episode" destabilises the physical form of the patient. The disease targets random limbs from the victims' bodies, causing the limbs to start liquifying. Some cases saw the heads of victims start liquifying first, leading to instant death.
Each emotional tumult caused by Rapture Rot only accelerates this woeful process.

There is no known cure for it, as a victim's body and mind succumbs to its vile tendrils and gets pulled into utter chaos; the only way out is by ending one's miserable existence. The disease is rare, that is true, but whenever it ensnares a poor sap, a "Wry Goodbye" is done, a ritual of sorts to help the person pass into the other world peacefully; they get administered a lethal dose of rat poison (or something more expensive if they've got the money for that). And are surrounded by their loved ones or any of the cheap whores that they promised payment after they pass. The victim can enjoy their heightened emotions until having their last laugh, if you will.

The disease is contracted by random deep bites on a victim's back. No one knows where they come from, but everyone knows you're as good as dead once you get them. However, many wives' tales and rumours speak of the Gloomfang Noctilisk, long and slender creatures that stalk the woods. Still, no civilised person would believe tales spun to scare kids, would they...?

This gruesome progression of Euphoric Necratosis can be tracked by a D-10 table I graciously provided below in case you want to add this into one of your sessions (look at you being an evil GM). The rate of the disease's acceleration is up to you, the Gamemaster; make it as rapid or slow, reduce its lethality, whatever; it is yours to mess about with.

The Horrifying and Gruesome Progression of Euphoric Necratosis:

Roll	Effect
1	Right Hand/Arm: Fingers to shoulder, the right arm begins its unsettling transformation, turning to a liquid state.
2	Left Hand/Arm: The left arm suffers a similar fate, with each segment dissolving in an agonizing sequence.
3	Right Foot/Leg: Starting from the toes, the disease mercilessly claims the right leg, rendering it a useless, liquid mass.
4	Left Foot/Leg: The left leg's turn to succumb to the disease, from the toes upward, leaving victims crippled and in despair.
5	Torso: The core of the body is not spared; the torso's liquefaction leads to catastrophic organ failure.
6	Head: A dire roll leading to the most feared outcome - head liquefaction, often resulting in instant or rapid death.
7	Eyes: Vision is stolen as the eyes melt away, plunging victims into darkness before further spread.
8	Ears: The ears begin to dissolve, taking away hearing and potentially leading to total disorientation.
9	Nose and Mouth: The essential functions of breathing and eating are compromised as the face begins its decay.
10	Roll Twice: The disease's ferocity shows no bounds; roll twice more to see multiple areas afflicted at once.

The Narcoleafer

/ˈnɑr.koʊ.liː.fər/

A predator natural to the Twilight Grove, the Narcoleafer resembles a vibrant parrot in form. It's made out of a smattering of plants and tree bark, allowing it to blend in seamlessly with the surrounding flora.

Nacroleafers are dangerous predators because of their solitary nature; they use their colourful appearance to lure their prey. The Nacroleafer emits a hypnotizing and fragrant toxin mimicking a prey's favourite smell. Their docile nature makes it seem like they are vulnerable when caught by surprise, but in reality, they are very resilient creatures; regenerating damaged parts rapidly allows them to fly away from adversaries quick enough.

Nacroleafers reproduce asexually; they split into pieces over a while (usually in a place where pieces can be stored together), and over time, when a Narcoleafer has gathered enough resources -- mostly comprised of other plants, dead animals, and insects -- the resources join together with the Narcoleafer pieces to produce an offspring.

Many an adventureer has fallen prey to a Narcoleafer. Pompous adventureers often underestimate its ability to make creatures vulnerable via its toxin, leading to many deaths that could have been avoided via careful planning.

The C'raab

 

/ˈkrɑːb/

The origins of the C’raab are a mystery, leaving scholars questioning their sanity. Ancient texts mention a master race of chitinous beings; their size is debated; some records state that they are the size of men, and some state that they are the size of a horse, but the discrepancies don’t only end with size. Their physical features tend to change from record to record; some texts depict these beings as human-like in appearance, allowing them to blend in with the average man. Some mention that their appearance is of a bat-like creature with mandibles, frightening to the sight. These discrepancies continue to the number of limbs, eyes, heads... One thing is for sure, though: records never fail to mention their exoskeleton (or skin?), smooth and metallic and chitinous in nature; the colours, though, vary. The colour descriptions range from dark, void-like hues to bright colours that mimic an odd-looking map. Records of the C’raab are still being found; with more and more details being uncovered, we can only assume that we have so much yet to learn.

The Zoflari

 

Few cities can claim as rich and as mysterious a legacy as Zoflar. Its ivy-clad walls, where the Zoflari thrived, carry a lot of history and knowledge hidden from the ordinary person. The Zoflari are defined by their unshaken values; personal sacrifice for one’s cause is the pinnacle of their virtues.

Zoflar can be likened to Renaissance Italy in splendour; it is a complex network of religious factions. It is not the individual that matters, but rather the collective – a family, a cult, a congregation—each playing a role in the fabric of Zoflari society.

One’s scent is vital in determining one’s social status in Zoflar. A blend of distinct scents and perfumes often marks one’s social status; every Zoflari carries a particular scent based on one’s status in Zoflar. The natural scent of a Zoflari (also known as the beggar’s scent) is of soil. Only the poor or people cast down from high society are barred from using the scents.

The Zoflari skin tone, also known as “The True Tone”, shimmers in gold, sallow and ivory hues. Hair as vibrant as the city’s blooming marigolds crowns their heads in every shade of red imaginable. And their eyes, oh their eyes – glistening with unusual and luminous colours, like stained glass reminiscent of the various Zoflari temples.

Adventureer

    /ədˈven.tʃə.rɪə(ɹ)/

    noun

    A brave, thrill-seeking individual, known for gallivanting into the wild yonder with a hat askew and a twinkling in their eye. They live for the quest of glory and fame, often found hopping over dragons (and dying in the process) or bargaining with mischievous sprites (and again, dying in the process). Notorious for turning left when the map clearly says right, an adventureer’s best-laid plans are often drawn in the sand at low tide (that is, if they don’t die in the process).