Arrovengia
Welcome to the world of Arrovengia. A world of magic, fantasy, and adventure.
Arroveniga is the default setting for the Raven of the Scythe Fantasy Role-Playing Game.
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Welcome traveler, I am glad to see that you have arrived safe, the roads are not as safe as they once were.
This land is called Arrovengia. It is an old land to be sure. Long ago, the great Empire of the Alasti ruled all of Arrovengia and beyond. It is said that they were a powerful people who were masters of wonderous magics the likes of which haven't been seen since. No one knows what happened to them. Their great cities and flying castles must have crumbled to dust and their great libraries burned to ash, because not one trace of them reamins. The old ones said it was a great war that destroyed them. A brother and sisiter battling for the throne until all the land was blasted to oblivion and their empire was no more than a distant memory. At least that is what the old ones say.
Then came the Sydri. They were slaves once, you know? Captives to the priests of the god of death, Ebonrul. But Landis escaped and fled into the great forests. He must have made some powerful friends, because when he returned, his skin was like metal and his eyes all aglow while he crushed the dark priests and sent their followers running to the wind. Oh the Sydri was a great and powerful empire...great for some, not so great for others. It is the way of all things I suppose. The Sydri became corrupted by their own power. Eventually, those that they had conquered turned on them. Even the dead turned on them. Those were the days of the dragon.
He was a monstrous beast he was. Huge and covered in is spikes and scales black as the pit itself. And where he went, the dead crawled out of their deathbeds to attack the living.
But, the gods were merciful. They sent the Sacred Martyr to us. She healed the sick and comforted the hurting, and she spoke the wisdom of the True Gods as it had been reviled to her.
And in return, they cut out her eyes and bound her to a wagon so that the great dragon might be sated at last. I can't stand to think about that. The voice of the True Gods walked among us, and we murdered her. This was long before even I was born mind you, but the priests say that as soon as her sacred blood touched the ground, that even itself opened up and a flight of angels came down and they slew that great beast and then they killed those that had wronged the Sacred Martyr. Trevor the Great placed a white stone where she died so that we wouldn't forget that the gods had avenged their Prophet. There is a church there now I hear, a great Cathedral.
And so it was. The last emperor of Sydri drank poison and died on his throne, while his empire fell apart around him. Kingdoms were declared by anyone who had the neve to call himself king, most of those fell, befor anyone even bothered to know their names, but some of them are still around. Isandria, Ashire, Darravoor, Tarene across the sea. The kings grow old and die, young princes step up to take their place. Their kingdoms make war with one another, and so the cycle goes on and on forever.
But, I'll tell you this much. The old ones say that there are things in this world older than kings and older than their kingdoms. They sleep in forgoten crypts and dark forests. The nameless horrors still sleep. Great dragons and things darker still, slumber for now, but perhaps not much longer.
Take care traveler, the roads aren't as safe as they once were.
Welcome to Arroveniga
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