TheFirstBlade
(ID: FAM0OFwC)
10/30/2025, 12:47:59 AM
No.6325462
>>6325461
The first hint of change, of that place's tint was the warping of land and nature. Drawing close you witnessed the unnatural daily. Moment to moment, in the small and large things of life. How a spider spun its web, leaning towards the city. How the clouds race by, seemingly fleeing that place.
The Shadow lands come without warning or clue. A gallery of oddity. Where warped creatures and alien life never yet recorded lay. Further and further it grows, until the ground and air itself become weapons. Anomalies left behind by unseen forces and wills. An expanse of invisible and unwarning death. Only those few to brave such a hell can turn their eyes upon the great walls of the First City.
Basking in the shade of the Palisade is the ancient Fortress named in the eldest of arched curves and dotted lines of literary existence. Long dead Crylein, the foot hold of the insane. Outright stepping in the Shadow of such a hallowed place was enough to enact death upon the feeble and broken that had survived, plainly dying in its shadow a bastion of some unseen nirvana to their minds.
The numerous battered and haggard Hosts, Guilds, Clans and Sects clutter around the bloodystone tower, in defiance of that ageless hold. Swiftly law and order came, suggested by all and heard and followed as the site would need to be a haven to simply survive. And so fort crylein returned to life.
Crylein Alive
The makeshift city of wobbly cabins, vast camps and cramped fire pits stretches out for miles. Bustling with energy and a second life found in the First City. A stalwart coalition of Royal Regiments, Beastmen Battalions and Elven agents keep peace and protect the walls from interior and exterior threats. As schemers scheme and misers mise, men, women, beast and worse ready themselves. Propagating on to the Palisade, clamoring to be first to step into the unknown.
The first hint of change, of that place's tint was the warping of land and nature. Drawing close you witnessed the unnatural daily. Moment to moment, in the small and large things of life. How a spider spun its web, leaning towards the city. How the clouds race by, seemingly fleeing that place.
The Shadow lands come without warning or clue. A gallery of oddity. Where warped creatures and alien life never yet recorded lay. Further and further it grows, until the ground and air itself become weapons. Anomalies left behind by unseen forces and wills. An expanse of invisible and unwarning death. Only those few to brave such a hell can turn their eyes upon the great walls of the First City.
Basking in the shade of the Palisade is the ancient Fortress named in the eldest of arched curves and dotted lines of literary existence. Long dead Crylein, the foot hold of the insane. Outright stepping in the Shadow of such a hallowed place was enough to enact death upon the feeble and broken that had survived, plainly dying in its shadow a bastion of some unseen nirvana to their minds.
The numerous battered and haggard Hosts, Guilds, Clans and Sects clutter around the bloodystone tower, in defiance of that ageless hold. Swiftly law and order came, suggested by all and heard and followed as the site would need to be a haven to simply survive. And so fort crylein returned to life.
Crylein Alive
The makeshift city of wobbly cabins, vast camps and cramped fire pits stretches out for miles. Bustling with energy and a second life found in the First City. A stalwart coalition of Royal Regiments, Beastmen Battalions and Elven agents keep peace and protect the walls from interior and exterior threats. As schemers scheme and misers mise, men, women, beast and worse ready themselves. Propagating on to the Palisade, clamoring to be first to step into the unknown.