#arkera

[theblackbookofarkera]

The Radiant Darkness

Artist unknown

[theblackbookofarkera]

Gynlin Taylor

unnamed Tanogeni warrior

Woodcut

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Damoron

In the blackest depths of the distant southern seas lie the accursed islands of Damoron, grim tombstones marking where an unnamed continent was devoured by hungry waters during the Judgement of the Old World. What now bears the name Damoron is naught but a chain of mutilated volcanic islands, scarred by ancient catastrophe, their ashen shores repelling all who gaze upon them. So remote and treacherous are these islands that only the avaricious trade galleys of the Sharoo Magyar Alligium, under the protection of Vandrel dragonships with their blood-red sails, dare traverse the deadly waters that surround this forsaken place.

No nations claim dominion over Damoron, yet the islands are not uninhabited. A race of unnaturally tall, gray-skinned beings dwell there, making their homes amidst poisonous jungles where the very air burns the lungs of outsiders, and along fertile coasts where strange fruits ripen under an alien sun. These beings remain shrouded in mystery, for they deal only with the merchants of the Alligium, never venturing beyond their blighted shores. Whispers spread through taverns of distant ports that these gray giants possess forbidden knowledge of lost technologies from before the Judgement, trading their unholy craftsmanship for living flesh—slaves to be thrown screaming into the hungry maws of smoldering volcanoes as offerings to whatever dark gods slumber beneath.

Centuries past, the ambitious Lym-shara Empire, in its boundless hubris, attempted to establish colonies upon Damoron's hostile shores. Their armies, once thought invincible, were butchered and consumed by the "savages" who called the islands home. Now, the haunted ruins of once-brightly painted Lym-shara cities crumble along the coastline, their walls stained with the memory of massacre, their streets empty save for the chittering of things that should not exist. These ruins await plunder by any soul reckless enough to brave both the perilous journey and the wrath of gray guardians whose ritual drums echo across the islands with increasing frequency whenever outsiders approach their domain.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

[theblackbookofarkera]

From the travelog Dreams of Distant Places Vol 12

[theblackbookofarkera]

I’ve been posting daily entries on the Black Book of Arkera Tumblr for nearly five years—one post for every day of the year. As I move forward, I’ll be scaling back to focus on refining older posts, unifying their tone and style. I’ve also been working on other projects and am proud of what I’ve built here. To those of you who have been reading, liking, and supporting this journey—you’re awesome. I hope you continue to read (or revisit) the work. I won’t be posting as frequently… or maybe I will. We’ll see.

- Your author

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Cormesh

"Beware those who claim divine ancestry, for their ambitions oft exceed their bloodlines."

—Unknown Tyr-Briegul Elder

Among the ancient bloodlines that thread through the tapestry of Arkera's history, few inspire as much reverence and suspicion as House Cormesh. Their claim to divine heritage through Airdgal, consort to blessed Dinoria of Enach, has granted them both profound influence and dangerous enemies within the Vestriga Empire.

The Cormesh lineage manifests in ways that set them apart from common folk. Their scions are known to live well beyond natural spans, some reaching two centuries while maintaining the vigor of youth. More unsettling are their prophetic visions – glimpses of possible futures that have guided their machinations across generations. Their innate affinity for magick further marks them as something more than merely human, though whether this gift stems from divine blessing or darker pacts remains a matter of whispered debate.

In recent decades, the family has become an increasing source of tension within the Vestriga Empire. Their aggressive campaign to spread the Dinorian faith beyond traditional borders has put them at odds with imperial authorities who fear such zealotry could destabilize carefully maintained political balances. The Cormesh claim their actions serve a sacred oath sworn millennia ago – to guide humanity from darkness into light. Yet one must question: what manner of light do they truly serve?

The Burden of Vision

Those who have witnessed a Cormesh in the throes of prophecy speak of a terrible transformation. Their eyes crack like porcelain, seeping golden light as they speak in voices that echo with ancient power. These visions are said to be both blessing and curse, for they show not just what may come to pass, but the countless tragic paths that must be avoided.

Magickal Heritage

The Cormesh facility with magick manifests in peculiar ways. Unlike the methodical spellcraft of traditional sorcerers, their powers seem to flow from their very blood. They can perform feats that defy conventional understanding of magickal theory, leading some scholars to suggest their abilities may predate modern sorcery itself.

Political Influence

Within the Vestriga Empire, the Cormesh maintain a complex network of allies and dependents among both nobility and clergy. Their connection to the Tyr-Briegul grants them significant ecclesiastical authority, which they have wielded with increasing boldness in recent years. Their push to spread the Dinorian faith has created rifts within the imperial court, with some nobles viewing them as dangerous radicals while others see them as holy warriors.

Dark Whispers

There are those who claim the Cormesh's divine lineage is a carefully crafted lie, that their true heritage is something far more sinister. Some point to their unnatural longevity and strange powers as evidence of dealings with forces beyond mortal comprehension. The family's obsession with leading humanity "from darkness" may well be an attempt at redemption for ancient sins.

A Scholar's Warning

In my centuries of study, I have encountered few families that inspire such unease in my immortal soul. The Cormesh move with purpose that spans generations, guided by visions whose source remains unclear. Their claim of divine heritage through Airdgal may be true, but one must wonder – what other blood flows in their veins? What ancient oaths truly bind them?

Their recent conflicts with Vestriga's imperial authority may be but the first ripples of a tide that will reshape the future of Arkera. Whether they are saviors or harbingers of doom, only time will tell. But mark well my warning: the Cormesh family serves a purpose beyond mortal understanding, and their path to enlightenment may well be paved with tragedy.

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Yan Ki-Min

In the final decadent years of Rovos, when corruption and depravity had thoroughly infected its ruling class, there lived an emperor whose name has been mercifully lost to time. This nameless tyrant, consumed by a perverse desire for exotic pets, commanded his scuramancers to create a being of unprecedented horror. Through forbidden fleshcraft and dark magick, they birthed Yan Ki-Min - a writhing mass of scales, tentacles, and gnashing maws that defied natural law.

Beneath the Cloud Lion Citadel, the emperor's architects carved out a vast artificial lake to house his new pet. Each day, a hundred slaves were driven into the dark waters as tribute, their screams echoing through the citadel's halls as Yan Ki-Min fed. The beast grew ever larger, its bloated form eventually filling nearly the entire subterranean lake. As its girth expanded, so too did its lethargy, until finally the monster fell into what appeared to be a deathlike slumber from which it could not be roused.

Today, the Cloud Lion Citadel lies in ruins, its once-mighty walls reduced to rubble by the Judgement. While treasure hunters have thoroughly plundered its upper levels, none have dared venture into the lightless depths where the waters still lap at ancient stones. Some say that on particularly quiet nights, one can hear the sound of deep, rhythmic breathing emanating from the flooded chambers below - a reminder that perhaps Yan Ki-Min's slumber is not so eternal after all.

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Molybdomancy

Among the more widespread forms of divination practiced across Arkera is molybdomancy, the art of reading fortunes in cooling metal. The practice is deceptively simple - lead, chosen for its low melting point and malleability, is heated until molten in a ceremonial crucible. The diviner then pours the liquid metal into a basin of cold water, where it rapidly solidifies into shapes that are then interpreted as omens and portents.

Most practitioners of molybdomancy are little more than charlatans, finding whatever meanings suit their purposes in the random forms produced by the cooling metal. However, there are accounts from respected sorcerers that give one pause. The sage Iriax of Salfarias is said to have foreseen the Plague of Burning Dreams three days before it struck her city, the cooling lead having taken the shape of a weeping eye. In the forbidden archives of the Bank of Shadowpool, there exists a detailed account of a molybdomancer who, through forty consecutive castings, predicted the exact dates of death for an entire noble family.

Whether these accounts represent true divination or merely coincidence, I cannot say. What I find most intriguing is that the practice seems more reliable in the hands of those versed in metallurgical magick, suggesting perhaps that molybdomancy's effectiveness lies not in the shapes themselves, but in how they conduct and focus the sorcerer's own prescient abilities.

"Even the basest of metals may speak truth to those who know how to listen."

-Common blacksmith proverb