conversations.from: system
conversations.value: Chaos has fallen upon Tarras. The Five have fallen from their seats of power in the heavens, throwing magick across the world into disarray. In the North, the Elves have invaded across Icewind Isle for the second time, and the Reign of the Humans continues to muster forces across the continent for that war.
  
  The Battleborn, long united as a people, were fractured by rebirth and subsequent disappearance of the Old Gods. Some Companies have aligned with the Reign, some with the Army of the East, and more still have hired themselves out as impartial arbiters and mercenaries to third parties.
  
  The Vervlokt, long reviled and mocked by the mightier races, have seen their connections to the Old Gods catapult them to prominence across the known world. Reignic priests, Wildborn druids, and Battleborn all now come to them for guidance to rekindle long-forgotten relationships with the Old Ones and their Elder parentage.
  
  From below the surface of the world, in ancient tombs and hidden temples, forces emerge that have not been felt upon the surface of Tarras since the Godswar. Ascendants step on solid ground once more, and the world trembles.
  
  
  
  [[This is a parallel story to 'Frostfall', another story set in the same world: https://storium.com/game/the-arilden-saga-frostfall
  
  I'm adding this link for reference: 
  https://arilden.obsidianportal.com/wikis/main-page
  Please check it before making characters, and while I'm happy to answer questions, a lot of them can probably be covered in that wiki.]]
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: The primary military encampment for the mustering of Reignic forces to proceed North into the Wolfswood against the Elven "Army of the East".
conversations.prefix: Camp at Fort Titus:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: The third-largest city in the Reign, Dunmore is a recent arrival to the list of powerful cities, and it’s might derives almost entirely from proximity to the North Seas, where the lucrative whaling trade hunts down the massive Iceberg Whales for their oil.
conversations.prefix: Dunmore:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: This must be where Kirkwood lives.  Or spends his time when he's in Dunmore.  You're not sure if you should be grateful that he's letting you stay here.
conversations.prefix: Kirkwood's Hideout:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: The crater atop the Temple of Hood, left by the comet that brought the God Likos crashing down to the surface of Tarras.  Magical energies are chaotic and warped from the arrival of a Dying God.
conversations.prefix: The Fallpit of Likos:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: A great forest that sits in the northern half of the Northern Holds. Allegedly it was once much larger and covered most of the North. The closest major city is Vlorë to the South. To the East sits Markand, and south of Markand — Southeast of Vlorë — is Dunmore, a major port and industrial city.
conversations.prefix: The Wolfswood:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Wearing a soot-gray, hoodless cloak over a suit of what looks like partial plate-mail, it's clear that whoever this man is he is not to be trifled with.  More striking than the armor or twin long-swords on his hips though, is the look in his dark-blue eyes.  This man has lost something of great value, and that loss haunts him.
conversations.prefix: Fentar:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: A poor vagabond met on the streets outside of Fort Dunmore, telling stories for pennies.
conversations.prefix: Homeless Storyteller:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: This merchant has a quick eye and a thick coat, and the scar snaking up his neck points to a more... indelicate past.
conversations.prefix: Jeremiah Kirkwood:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Appointed to the Tetrarchy only six weeks past, Caepio has much to prove in Dunmore after his predecessor was slaughtered by mercenaries; he is starting by taking out the anger of the Church and the populace on the violent -- criminals, mercenaries, and law-abiding citizens alike.
conversations.prefix: Tetrarch Caepio:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: These three are at best very confusing. Who are they? Why does Kirkwood have them locked up? What the hell was that look the middle one gave you?
conversations.prefix: Three Brothers:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: The arachnid-aspected Lord of All Secrets.
conversations.prefix: Titus Arrakis:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Let's just take a breather for a second.  Consider what the hell is going on, perhaps? Breath slowly? Sit down and think about how in the name of the Gods you got into this mess?  Perhaps you actually enjoy being mentally prepared, in which case this can't hurt.
conversations.prefix: Hold up. What?:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: You don't know these others -- most of them are likely here for the same reason you are, but what if one rats you out?  Maybe it's time to cover your own ass and let these strangers worry about theirs.
conversations.prefix: Other "Mercenaries":
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Guardian of the Beast-Throne, Warhound of Din, and Destroyer of Worlds
conversations.prefix: The Tarras'ka:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: There's at least one face here that you haven't seen before.  Let's deal with that first, before whatever else is going on.
conversations.prefix: Who Are You?:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Whether you remain there now or not, your line comes from the Northern Battleborn Companies of old. The truest warriors and the proudest adventurers, your ancestors smile down on those who survive by the axe and the shield. Your people are a hardy lot, and remember fondly the days when the Companies were called upon by one and all to fight the great threats facing the world. Such days may be past now, but that does not mean they are forgotten.
conversations.prefix: Northern Battleborn:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: There is only one true civilization in this world, and from it derive all others. That civilization is yours, and as a man or woman of the Reign you represent the leading edge of progress and culture to the other races. The policies and decisions of the Church can be polarizing, however, and so being of the Reign does not mean you are for the Reign. Indeed, in such a tightly-run society, dissent is to be expected — all the more so for how hard it is reined in when discovered. Ultimately though, your blood is of a conquest-driven theocracy, and blood is hard to escape.
conversations.prefix: Reignic Human:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Between the World-Spine and the Black Sea sit the Reignic lowlands known as the Sionian Moors, so named for Sion, the largest and only major city in the region. Filled with a diversity unseen elsewhere on the continent, the Moors are home to Vervlokt, Vagabond Dwarves, and humans of all stripes.  Despite a long history of occupation by the Reign, the fens have many scattered Wildborn settlements, and all the locals are skilled at moving discretely through the swamps to avoid any unnecessary confrontation with one another. Non-locals prefer to avoid the area, resulting in a general impression of Sionians as off-color in any of a host of different ways.
conversations.prefix: Sionian Wanderer:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: The old ways are dead. Those who deny that are fools, and those who embrace it thrive. The Battleborn are no longer deserving of that name, and the Southern Dwarves would have their entire race realize this truth. More polite, politically savvy, and cunning than their northern brethren, even those Dwarves who no longer reside in the South are generally regarded by other races as too clever by half. They prefer to avoid a fight rather than win one, and a victory that goes quietly unrecognized is a victory nonetheless.
conversations.prefix: Southron Dwarves:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: A halfling's life - his true life - begins when he sails away from home for the first time on his (or her) Yarvalken (Year Walk). Something just didn't feel right about life before that day for you, and ever since you first hoisted a sail, you've been one with the sea and the wind and the open ocean.
conversations.prefix: Vervlokt Waverider:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: The forests of the north, the deep swamps of the east, and the coastal cliffs of the west: these are the lands of the Wildborn, and woe to any man who treads there unwelcome. The Druidic leaders of the Wildborn hold keep at ancient temples in the wilderness, worshipping the spirits in their glory, but the Wildborn are not all fanatics. The remnants of ancient humans who refused to fall in line with the First Empire, at heart all Wildborn are simply man and women who will follow their own rules and live their own lives, free of the tyranny of government or organized religion.
conversations.prefix: Wildborn Human:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: You are a descendant of Reignic conquerors and soldiers. Your family has spent generations on the very edge of the Hinterlands, pressing the Wildborn further back from Reignic territory. You protect your people above all else, and you will always be leading the eternal onward march of civilization. You believe strongly in your superior racial heritage over other races and the Wildborn, and there is no shame in making that apparent.
conversations.prefix: Crusader Heritage:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: You are the scion of a powerful noble family out of the south of Tarras, which, now or in the past, had great resources at its disposal. Perhaps your family ventured north, perhaps not. Perhaps they still hold power, perhaps it is lost. Regardless of the current situation, you have every confidence that your name will rise to even greater renown and glory than ever in the history of the Reign and Empire, and that you will be the one to make that happen.
conversations.prefix: Highborn:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: It seems foolish and absurd that, in this time of advancement and enlightenment, so many of the people in the world still believe in Gods and Spirirts and childish myths of that sort. Or at least, that is what you believe. Having grown up in one of the few rising hotspots of invention and scientific advancement such as Dunmore or Kingsport, you have seen firsthand both the glory and power of the new Age of Industry, and it will not be stopped by Gods or men.
conversations.prefix: Industrial:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Born and raised among one of the Northern Companies, you spent your early years being made to appreciate the only two sureties in life: death and discomfort. Your Company likely served during the Wildborn Wars, and the older men still remember and tell tales of the battles. Of late though your Company has begun to stagnate with a lack of true soldiering to do, and the fights of a more glorious antiquity are all that hold the families together against the sporadic fight with the Wildborn and the elements.
conversations.prefix: Northborn Soldier:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Until recent events it was not even a confirmed fact among the other races that the Grey Company even existed. In Markand in particular, children have been told stories for two centuries of ‘The Grey’; a mysterious and silent killer that stalks the streets at night, cutting the throats of naughty boys and girls with a sharpened steel cable. In the last half-century these assassins have become more prominent, and both the Grey and Lion Companies are frequently hired in the feuds between the wealthy of the Vervlokt and Humans, both as deadly killers and quiet and efficient spies. In either pursuit, these Battleborn represent the pinnacle of their trade.
conversations.prefix: Northborn Spy:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: While some Companies pride themselves on holding true to the ‘Old Ways’, and being pure fighting regiments, those that have flourished in the last century of little warfare have adapted their traditions to better suit peacetime. In your Company, this meant that many Battleborn became traders and merchants to fund the pursuits of the rest of the Company. Your parents were of this vein, and you grew up frequenting Vervlokt plots almost as often as you were in your own camp. You grew up to be a fine salesdwarf in your own right, and before leaving your Company to discover the world, you were an integral piece of the machine that kept it well-fed and running smoothly.
conversations.prefix: Southron Tailor:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Among the Southern Companies, a few of the smaller follow very peculiar methods of survival and styles of fighting. These Companies are often known as “Sappers” to outsiders, but within they are most often broadly painted as the Tinkers. Alchemists, physicians, and engineers, these Battleborn make a point of picking a subject area and knowing everything that it is conceivable to know about that material. In peacetime, they ward off disease, build new settlements for all the races, and keep the sciences alive within the Companies; and in times of war, they heal the wounded, operate the siege equipment, and have a special place in their hearts for all things fiery and explosive.
conversations.prefix: Southron Tinker:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Your years spent in temples or druidic groves reading every musty tome and holy book you could find about the traditions of the Spirits and the Five have given you insight into the natures of both mortals and Gods. Unfortunately, those years focused your attentions a bit too strongly, and you tend to lash out at those who doubt what you "know".
conversations.prefix: Fanatic:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Whether the Druids and Priests will admit it or not, many humans have no interest in dealing with divine powers, and simply want to live their lives, free from heavenly intervention. Whether this is from apathy or anger towards Ascendants matters little, as both Atheists and Agnostics laugh at the powers spoken of by holy men, and trust their fates to the sword in their hand or the tongue in their mouth before the powers of a divinity. This lack of divine concerns makes these men and women particularly vulnerable to branding as "different", as even in these times, power lies with the god-fearing.
conversations.prefix: Godless:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Many civilizations have arisen over the long history of Tarras, and few remain.  Your ancestors may have been a strong people once, but at best they exist now as but a scattered remnant of their former glory.
conversations.prefix: Shattered People:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: You bear the tattoos of the Wildborn Druids; a mark for all to see that you are a heretic in the eyes of the Church and the Five. These may be ancestral, or they may have been branded upon you by a vindictive Inquisition.
conversations.prefix: Tattooed Heretic:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Details
conversations.prefix: TBD:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: Kirkwood and his "nephews" have dropped just enough hints that you can tell something is going on that is bigger than just the Reign versus the Elves.  The Gods are involved here; you'll pry into this more when the opportunity presents itself.
conversations.prefix: Hokey Religions:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Throughout time there have been certain men and women who are respected for their age, their wisdom, and their enduring longevity. These individuals are thought to be the last remnants of a grander age of Men. They are the mystics in the wilderness, the village elder, and the soldier who has been fighting longer than anyone can recall. They persist, they survive, and they live on to tell the tales of the Ages.
conversations.prefix: Yáradan Ilyavatar:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: A small village at the Western edge of the Great Desert, Redspring is named for the rust-hued water that emerges from the foothills of The Island and supports it.
conversations.prefix: Redspring:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: A farmer and a father living in the Holy Desert district of Räkar.  He and his daughter Emilia own four camels and travel to the Capital twice a year to buy water and other supplies for Redspring.
conversations.prefix: Leo Erumen:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: The corpses here present a difficult dilemma.  How best to explain their deaths and the disappearance of the Beleaguered without raising the suspicions of the villagers?
conversations.prefix: Murderer!:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: The villagers are debating how to proceed.  Should they hunker down? Send someone out into the village itself?  Run the hell away?
conversations.prefix: Explore the Village:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: The village has been annihilated by the flood unleashed by your actions in the caverns.  How you handle this responsibility will determine the course of this settlement for years to come.
conversations.prefix: Redspring Reborn:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: There are many dangers in this world, and by your reckoning, the majority of them are beyond the comprehension of simple mortal men. You hold up wards against the darkness and disease as readily as you do an enemy on the battlefield, and complex rituals, charms, and potions seem sufficient protection from most dangers, mortal or otherwise. At the same time, you laugh at the Godless and Industrials, who would put their faith in man-made machines and contraptions, when it is clear that there are greater forces at work in the world. 
conversations.prefix: Superstitious:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Many ages ago, mankind strolled upon the face of Verden alone. Created by a confluence of Adaephon and Din, the Ancients were the masters and the partners of their domain. These forebears of all modern humans were hulking and powerful, but also wise and had an accord with the natural world before the Old Gods came into being. As a direct and pure descendant of humans of antiquity, you are gifted with unnatural long life and a wise soul, but the burden of your long years and the impatience of your descendants and their cousins the Battleborn and Vervlokt weighs heavily on you.
conversations.prefix: Ancient:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.prefix: Wild:
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Once worshiped by the masses, he is now all but forgotten. Stripped of followers though he may be, his will and resolve never faltered.  
conversations.prefix: Stripped of followers:
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: As an ascendant of the void, you are intimately familiar with its secrets and deftly navigate its treacherous ways. You know the power of truth and are adept at choosing the true path out of the void.
conversations.prefix: Out of the Void: