Aqualon World Updates

  • Additional Daily Fact Updates
    Mar 11, 2023

    Aqualon facts #8-#15 have been updated with more content and better prose as well. Preparations for regular video uploads with voiced facts and lore are well-underway.

  • Updating old Daily Aqualon Facts
    Mar 10, 2023

    Aqualonfacts #1 - #7 have been updated with improved prose and/or additional lore in preparation for audio recordings to come. (Find Aqualon Facts on the Aqualon Discord)

  • Article Categories Implemented
    Oct 21, 2022

    The World Anvil article category widget is now correctly rendered in articles on this site. This makes the Encyclopedia Aqualonia article much more useful.

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Featured Novel

The Storm Winds of Glazglubin

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"There's a monster in every man, boy. Within me, there is a host, and one day, it'll be yours to command." Too often these days, Kenji's mind turns to the words of his accursed father. When he fled the Old Country, he thought he had left the monsters behind, but now he sees them every day in the eyes of his friend and mentor. His world is about to crumble in a spasm of eldritch magic, and though he can see the face of his undoing so clearly in his nightmares, deep down, he knows that the first blow has already been struck.
As the tendrils of a soul plague lay claim on Aqualon's oldest and most powerful magocracy, the Lord of Wind, Kenji Sokolow, is cast down from his high tower, pressed to rally whatever forces he can find. But first, he has to survive...

Featured Short Story

The Black Priest of Rastrowel

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A gripping short story from the life of Lyn, a young girl in the care of two HJT Ferries, ships mages for hire, which operate from their office on the island of Rastrowel, the highly religious birth place of the Church of Pure Souls.

Faced with prejudice against mages every day, Lyn's winning personality and innocence keep her well within the good graces of her peers, until a Black Priest, an inquisitor of the Church takes notice of her...

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A Synopsis of the World

Seventeen centuries of peace have allowed the people of Aqualon to flourish. Since the Great War, now known as the Age of Heroes, when the Old Gods rose up once more in vain, the world has become prosperous: powerful magocracies in the Middle Lands are going through a magical industrial revolution and rich tapestries of cultures flourish in the Yamato Mountain Range and the Seventeen Yonder Islands. These lie in the Corsic Ocean of the Ocean Belt beyond the 150 kilometer band of iron, the Iron Belt, which rings the planet around its equator.

And isolated from the rest: two technocracies so far beyond them that they could be thought to live in a world of their own. They are divided by their opposing views on integrating magic and technology, yet united in their quest for knowledge.

But who would have thought that none of these would start the next great war?
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Browse Aqualon's countless lore articles below: Fantasy, Scifi, Horror, Mystery; there is enough to suit any palate and sate any appetite.

Tale #3: The Glade of Druith

North of the Brammenwoods lies the Glade of Druith, just past the great Lake of Glazglubin that is squeezed between the two forests. Druith is home to the Schamani of Druith, who stayed neutral during the Great War, much to the dismay of the other Nordmen and Old Gods. However, the whole Glade of Druith was declared a nature and culture preserve when the Null Concord was signed in the Age of Awakening, a point brought forth by the technocrats of the UOBT during the negotiations, and during the war efforts, the Nordmen were prevented from invading Druith by the Allied Forces.   This happened in 28 AH (the Age of Heroes when a massive host led by Jörg the Giant and Grand Druid Brynwain gathered by Ravensburg to storm Druith, the Keepers and technocrats of Altonar rallied for a mighty sideswipe against their forces and thwarted them from penetrating the Wall of Druith, a great row of winter willows, which encircles the glade. Jörg aimed to secure the magically fertile lands of Druith to supply the North and unite all Kaltani tribes under his crown, while Brynwain had struck an alliance with him to gain access to Vaenndrasil and the well of power contained within the wood of the great tree.  
"The fruit is smaller and harder now. Soon, no more will grow outside the season," Red Sky said, his face grim.   "Is it Great Schamani Open Plains? Is she dying?" I asked, my voice thick with worry. Without Great Schamani Open Plains, the Glade would wane. No longer would the trees glisten with the great fruit of life, no longer would the Great Beasts roam the plains.   "Hush, young one. There is no death in Druith. But her powers are fading, I can see it even now in the sky and the grass and the wind... We must travel far away: The many tribes will gather as one in the shade of Vaenndrasil. Search for the bright star, my boy, we turn our backs on it to find the way."   "Yes, Red Sky."   We found the bright star, and we turned our backs on it to travel far away. The glade was waning, grass turning yellow, fewer and fewer fish in the brooks, and wherever we went, the trees bore fruit that was smaller and harder than ever before.   It took a whole moon to travel across the plains, and in time, we reached the great lakes. Here many of our brethren lived. Other tribes, all worrying for Great Schamani Open Plains, all worrying for Druith.   Some joined our journey; some had already left on their own when we found the places they had inhabited.   A second moon came and passed, and as it waxed and waned, the canopy of Vaenndrasil grew out of the horizon, greater and mightier every day. The tree of life would soon stand tall above us, and below it: Great Schamani Open Plains.   When we arrived, all the tribes had gathered. Druith was united under the mighty tree. On a root like a mountain, far above the rest, there she sat: Great Schamani Open Plains. Her hair covered her back and shoulders, and it was dark and rich and fell many, many fathoms down to the ground, where it had taken roots. Her eyes shone like the stars in the black sky, and her skin was creased like the bark of a mighty tree. She sat there for a long time, silently, and none dared to break the silence. The children of Druith stood below her, with her, silently watching Great Schamani Open Plains.   The day faded, and as the final light of the sun was swallowed by the night and bright stars began gleaming in the sky, so did Great Schamani Open Plains. She opened her mouth to speak, and a great light shone out of it, just as it did out of her eyes and nose. All held their breath to hear her words.   "I am become stone. What life I have to give has long passed into the land. I know this: The fruit has become small and hard. I know this: the grass has become yellow. But the soul I had to offer this land has become thin with time, and now it is stretched out too far to hold together. I am become stone, my children of Druith. Weep not for the stone, my children of Druith, for a stone is not Druith. I am become Druith as well. My life force is still beating below the fertile soil. It just longs for company. When my skin cracks and my jaw freezes, when the lights in my eyes go out, let one who has learned the arts and who is willing step onto this root and take my place. And if none shall step up, that too will be alright. If the one will not bear the burden, the many will take their place. Even without the life force of a Great Schamani, Druith is Druith. With these words, I go to rest..."   And she did... The Great Schamani Open Plains lifted her hands high up, as if she wanted to pluck the stars out of the sky, and a great light shone down on her. As it did, all the tribes could see her turn to stone, forever a statue, a monument to her grand sacrifice, perched on that great root. Then, the people of Druith wept for her. We wept through the whole night, our tears flowing to the ground like the river. On the next day, we celebrated her: A great feast was held at the foot of the root. And we all ate the small and hard fruit, and we all laughed with a smile on our face and a tear in our eye. We danced through our sorrow, we sang through our sorrow, and when the next night arrived, all the schamani from all the tribes climbed up the root while we cheered them on. They all offered their life force to Vaenndrasil, to Druith. And one of them would be chosen. One of them, would be Great Schamani.

Poetry on Aqualon

Glint Stray in the Void

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