The World Kiln

  There is a tale passed down generationally among a certain tribe. It tells of a winged titan-beast that fought and a mad spirit which had frolicked in unison. A story from a time in which those who lasted the cataclysm could do little more to protect themselves than endure on.   The spirit is described as a newborn entity of joy and indulgence, considered a monarch among its incorporeal people, whose self-fulfillment led it to twist the lands and their denizens for sport and, for a time, lead hunts to terrorize and pillage the few settlements that remained as havens from the surrounding chaos.   The beast, on the other hand, is an ancient creation that had long held order over its own domain and was ruler by virtue of its war-forged might. The story tells that while it did not care for the smaller pockets of civilization within the territory at first, it was incensed at the interlopers who waltzed in without invitiation and brought harm upon those under its dominion. ...

 The territory of the Northern Kingdoms is near-bisected by a forest of metal ruin, which separates the Kingdom of Breta from its eastern neighbour and forces travellers to either head southwards, through the Kingdom of Gaunne, or northwards into the storm regions. Occasionally, there are those who attempt to venture through, ignoring the superstitious warnings of the villagefolk who live at the edge. However, such endeavours rarely end in better circumstances than loss or disaster, but with just few enough successes that another might hear the news and dare to try for themselves.  Yet on this night, two meet in a glade within: an unsuspecting figure and a voice that awaits them.  "It is rare to see an embodied soul in these parts. What has brought you here, outlander?"  "Everything... everything has been taken from me... I can't let it end this way, I can't let them take it all..."  "And your thirst for vengeance, for power, has led you to me. Very wel...