Medieval Yore

It is fabled that over the majestic mountains, one may find mystics, dragons, and wealth. A land of mystery, beauty, and magic. Some have travelled over the mountains in search of these ellusive lands or the Gods themselves. And even fewer succeeded to make their way here... To a land of Medieval Yore. Here, they find no Gods but danger. It is where monsters sleep and trees huddle close contemplating weary travellers. Travelling over one mountain range, one will find another dangerous mountain range looming high on the horizon. The oceans rests to the north. Beauty was found from the mountains themselves, the rivers, pools, and waterfalls. But for each beautiful sight, and perhaps more, lies a danger in wait from lava pools, a pit of unknown depths, chasms, and caves. Over the great expanse of land between these mountain ranges lies uncharted and mostly uninhabited lands. Traces of magic lay thick upon some places. Other places have the stench of blood and battle. What had fallen upon the prior inhabitants of these lands? Were they taken away? Ancient indestructable obelisks standing tall in the surrounding mountains depict an agreement between the planes that this little piece of land is the battleground in the dispute of the powers that be. The planes watch and bet we will destroy ourselves without the help of demons, devils, nor angels. And to keep their experiment true, the obelisks render dragons from having magic in any form other than their true form should they even find a reason to bother with a painful shapeshift. Demons, devils and angels find they cannot interfere for the Deities will not lend their power. Still, mortals turn to prayers rarely getting answered with anything more than inspiration, monsters and heroes. Are they heroes because of their heart? Or are they the hope sent by the delusion or deity? These are the lands, and we are the hope.

Medieval Yore