[CLOSED] Community Event June 2021 - 2nd Sponsor Card Contest

Hello everyone, today we are announcing which three stories won the contest. It is great to see your passion for our world. Thanks for the great stories.

There are a few characters that did not win, but because those were great characters/ideas with interesting stories - you might see some of those ideas / similar ideas implemented in future characters. The 3 winners are:

- @Pugnobon with "Mahno Lumin Chas’ala"

- @123leistner with "Chrarzr Drarnok" - @Serious Ludd with "Drakan the Scorched"

Thank you all for your participation. You guys wrote some pretty cool stories! It will be very difficult for us to choose 3 winners. The winners will be announced in the end of the next week. Have a nice weekend! 🙂

A fellow artist directed me to this game... and this page. So let's see if I can contribute. Race: Naphas - Nish

Name: Varunish "the Krogar" Juz

Appearance: Sandy-coloured scales, crimson eyes. Larger and more muscular than the typical Nish. Has scars on his chest and arms.

Clothing/Armor/Gear/Weapons: Dual-wielded scimitars. Leather-vest and arm-guards. Bands of protective leather spaced evenly on the tail portion. Trophies of his enemies dangling from his belt.

Characteristic:

Story background: While it was not unknown for Nish to be soldiers like the Krogars, their unique physiology meant that most chose to be skirmishers, or trappers where they could employ their mastery of nature and poison to good use, and minimise their vulnerability from their long profile.

Varunish did not intend to abide by that rule. From a young age, he was fascinated by the art of swordfighting, influenced by the young Krogars whom he had shared the village with. Where the other Nish studied their letters, or apprenticed under a master, Varunish would be found practicing his blade with his fellow Krogar friends. (Or perhaps indulging in one of their many quarrels). When his friends met the age of exile, he'd take the unusual step of joining them in this tradition.

Suffice to say, his fellow Nish village did not approve of this. Krogar-licker, he was mocked. His parents were appalled, though they did not bar him. Varunish did not care; his mind was set, and there was no turning back. The Krogar elders were bemused by the addition of a Nish participating in their tradition. It was unprecedented, and for some Krogar, a mockery of their traditions. Three days and three nights they deliberated. Three days and three night, Varunish was grilled and tested. He endured. Finally, the elders gave their grudging assent.

There was no regrets in young Varunish, when he slithered to join his new band of Krogar friends, the very next day.

Scene / Environment: Fungal Savannah

Card Level: Pioneer

Card Value: 5/4/2/1

Ability: Fearsome Rush, once per three turns Varunish can advance one move more into , taking advantage of his Nish heritage to barrel sword-first into the enemy, dealing damage on contact to the enemy.

tl;dr Nish who got a bit too fascinated by the warrior culture of Krogars

Race: Naphas - Krogar Name: Drakan the Scorched - Appearance - A Krogar with brown scales which also happens to be slimmer than usual. Wears leather shorts under a black skirt with a rope serving as a belt. The upper body, arms and head are covered with dark red bandages, while hands and the base of the tail show distinct signs of burns. His face is hidden beneath the head bandages, which only shows his left eye. Also wears a shredded short shoulder cape. His belt supports vials, pouches and a pack of additional wicks. His ankles are wrapped with dark red puttees. - Gear and equipment - Unlike his brethren and because of his shorter stature, Drakan doesn’t rely on brute strength but instead agility and knowledge. Equipped with alchemicals bombs, pouches of elemental salts and vials, Drakan wields a long handgonne powered by fire salts as his main weapon, combining the close capabilities of the quarterstaff alongside the range ability capable of firing a fiery barrage of burning pellets. - Characteristic - During his various experimentations with fire salts and alchemicals products, Drakan accumulated many wounds over the years. Burns and scars that cannot be healed, only appeased by wearing bandages soaked in enchanted water. Smaller, slimmer and weaker than other Krogars, Drakan suffers from a major inferiority complex and insecurity, to the point of sickness. - Story background - Not everybody is born with a silver spoon in one’s mouth. Drakan was one of these unlucky souls, as one of the weaker individuals among his siblings, poorly fed and struggling in the harsh and highly competitive environment of Krogars newborns. Hampered by his mediocre constitution by comparison to his brothers, Drakan never quite managed to win the heart or the respect of his people, despite surviving long enough to pass the exile rite. This caused him to become very jealous and quite resentful of his more successful peers. Because despite being overall somewhat weaker and less physically impressive, Drakan was ambitious. Probably too much for his own good.

Rumors of an hermit that settled in an isolated area nearby came to his ears. It was said by some that this man was a rejected lunatic sorcerer chasing stars, whereas others would say it was a madman pursuing felonious deeds, even looking to elaborate an immortality elixir. Convinced by the gossip, the Krogar went after the strange hermit. But instead of a mighty wizard harvesting knowledge to break the bounds of reality, all he found was a crumbling old man in a tiny shack in the woods, living from grass and roots, picking flowers and collecting stones. When Drakan greedily asked about the immortality filter, the old man laughed loudly at his face and told him the harsh reality. The desired potion was a chimera, a fantasy of the mind, and ultimately something that did not exist, yet it wasn’t a fatality .

Frustrated by this information, Drakan was nonetheless impressed by the directness of the old man, and asked him about his business in the area. The man was an old alchemist who retired from civilization in an attempt to focus on his studies and enjoy a quiet life, far away from the populated towns. He was an oddity, but Drakan quickly became fascinated by this strange old man, weak by nature but ultimately protected by his vast knowledge of the elements and his ability to create. What was first a simple travel in an attempt to get a taste of an eventual mighty potion quickly turned into frequent visits, the Krogar showing curiosity and attention for this strange art that was alchemy, leading him to slowly but surely become an apprentice of the old man.

After all, why couldn’t he too accumulate enough knowledge and power to be on par with his stronger brothers ?

Bitter about his own place and condition in the world and the Krogar society, Drakan always had a greedy nature. More recognition, more strength, more attention… But he did soften up under the leadership of the old alchemist, whose personality was more patient, keen, peaceful and more interested in the act of discovery than the fame that could come with it. But one day, the old alchemist didn’t come back from his usual gathering in the woods. Investigating the area, the Krogar discovered the sinister fate of his old master, ripped to shreds by direwolves while he was picking herbs.

The death of the old man marked a drastic change in the way Drakan would approach alchemy. Without the diligent and benevolent nature of the ancient alchemist to contain him, what was first ambition and jealousy quickly turned into a maniacal obsession, poisoning his mind with a lust of power that could not be stopped. He didn’t only wanted to wipe out the wolves out of these woods, he also wanted to show his people how great he had become. He didn’t had the physical capabilities of the regular Krogar, it didn't matter, he would create his own strength. Motivated by the sheer will to become more, Drakan took over his master laboratory and quickly worked to shift the old recipes to fit a more offensive approach. No more curative mixtures, he was looking to create poisons. Most importantly, he was very invested in the usage of fire salts, which could be used to create fiery fires and explosions.

Years of experimentation took their toll on both his mental and physical health. In an attempt to develop an explosive powder using fire salts, Drakan suffered major burns, forcing him to wrap himself in bandages soaked in curative mixtures, in an attempt to appease wounds that could not be healed. While he did ultimately managed to balance his recipe of fire powder, and wiped out the woods of the wolves using alchemical poisoning and setting ablaze the forest, it wasn’t still enough for the now dark alchemist to be satisfied with.

Now on the run, Drakan “the Scorched” is looking for more ways to expand his power and improve his alchemical skills… Stuck in a never-ending quest for more.

Card Level: Master Card Type: Hermeticist Card Value: ATT - 10 DEF - 4 MOV - 1 RAN - 2 Ability: Deterioration -Load the handgonne with firesalts and sets the target ablaze, dealing damages over time.

Okay, sorry if my english was kind of poor, I'm not an native english speaker, so I probably made mistakes. It was fun writing all of this, and I hope I did respect the established lore. I didn't wanted to go for a too long story, so sorry if it sound a bit cliche.

I brainstormed it a bit on Hero Forge for the fun.

As for the handgonne, which i feel might be quite a stretch and possibly not a thing in this universe, it was pretty much a primitive hand cannon and the first appearance of firearms in history.

I felt the concept of having this weapon infused by an alchemical fantasy element in fire salts would be quite fun. Especially since it's one of the lesser known weapons on the late medieval era and it's very rarely depicted in medias.

Some interesting ideas already here. Let's see if I can add something to it. Race: Naphas, Krogar Name (follow the naming guidelines of the different races): Chrarzr Drarnok, the storyteller Appearance: A male Krogar with white scales on the belly and black on the rest of his body, intertwined with silver lines. His right arm bears strange scars, as if on fire, that have a sinister blue glow to them, as if his flesh under the scales was burning. His silver eyes have also a faint blue glow to them. On the card he is standing in the middle of a crowd, arms wide open, having a toothy smile, the magic in his arm and eyes visible as well as in the eyes of the crowd, that he seemingly has charmed. Clothing/Armor/Gear/Weapons: A Warrior with a defined strong body, that wears light clothing. His weapon of choice is a heavily ornamented sword, that looks more like for show than for actual fighting. Characteristic: A very arrogant Krogar, that is mostly known for boasting and loudly talking, than actual fighting. But despites being more than often a nuisance to others, he somehow can avoid fights just by speaking to people, seemingly choosing the perfect words to calm the storm. But only very few have seen what strange powers this man can unleash, making people serving his wishes. Story background: Jinjiaz tavern was full of customers. Ale was flowing and people chatting about. A reason to celebrate. But he had a bad feeling, a sensation like an itch at the tip of his tail. The well-lit room was filled with his kind, other Jazi, chatting and singing and gambling. They weren't the problem. In one corner were three Krogars. Their raspy unintenionally loud voices carried through the room. Jinjiaz had nothing against Krogar. They were good customers of his little tavern. They usually kept their problems to themselves and they paid without much hustle. Nish were a bit more problematic because of their bodies, but nothing special. Jinjiaz had only seen a Shelx once but his sheer weight had made getting him a good place quite difficult. No, the problem was that loud Krogar taking a bath in the crowd. A black-white-scaled Krogar with strange marks on his right arm. He was wearing only light robes, that showed much of his trained body, and Jinjiaz suspected (and slightly feared) that he was showing off to the other Krogars, who thankfully so far did not take the bait. He paid well, for that much Jinjiaz was thankful, but he also just seemed use all his energy to be in the middle of the attention. He initiated songs, told stories about his adventures. Even without wanting to listen Jinjiaz already had the feeling that he had heard the story of his life. Apparently his name was Chrarzr Drarnok and he claimed to have been a soldier, but recently he turned his attention towards the 'unknown lands' as he called them. The lands far beyong any map in the west, claiming there would be treasures far beyong any imagination and wonders, more beautiful than anything anyone ever has seen. He claimed that he got the beautiful sword hanging from his hip from a ruin there, filled with deadly traps and nightmarish monsters. He also claimed that this was, where he got his wound, referring to the strange blue scars on his arm. But he also was talking to the people, guessing why they were here, asking about them, their lives, their loved ones. More than often he got no answer, but there was no end to his worrying curiousity. And if things seemed to die down, he called Jinjiaz and ordered drinks for everyone, earning himself some cheers and while the young Jazi was busy, he started again talking about adventures, long journeys and the call of the horizon, while asking people about their life. Jinjiaz did not know what to think about this man but he saw, that more and more people were hanging on his very word. Whyever he was doing this, he was good at talking. But it might just be his eyes, tired from working so long, but he had the feeling that the strange blue scars on Chrarzrs arm were glowing. Could that be? One of the Krogars waved Jinjiaz over and he walked timidly but quickly to them, already the next big jug ale in hands. "Little guy, is that one annoying you?", one of the soldiers asked. "He is loud.", another one of them added in. "Oh no. Please. He is not a problem. He is just ... he ... likes to tell stories. ... and ... he pays well.", Jinjiaz tried to deescalate the situation. Unsuccessfully as it seemed, as the Krogars' eyes followed that other loud one and Jinjiaz did not like the look on their faces. He had seen young Krogar, always ready to battle and always short-tempered. He poured more ale into their jugs, telling them pleasantries and pleading to mother Naphas that his tavern would be still standing at the end of the evening. His pleas were heard, though differently than he thought. Just when one of the Krogars put his jug down and stood up to finally silence Chrarzr, who was in the middle of telling everyone and no one about an expedition far into the land of the tagari, something strange happened. The people talking and discussing became suddenly silent. The laughter died. And some strange power seem to force everyone to look to the Krogar in the middle of the tavern. Jinjiaz forgot the customer, who wanted to pay. Some gamblers forgot their game. Nobody moved, apart from Chrarzr, his arms held wide open, a sinister blue glow radiating from his eyes and his arm. A light, that, faintly, almost invisible, also ignited itself in the eyes of everyone in the tavern. It was total silence, broken only by the silky voice, that dropped like honey into the ears and minds of everyone. "So listen to me now. Listen for I am telling the truth. I have asked and you have answered. I have heard your stories and you have heard mine. Now listen. Go home, go to those you love, those that are your friends and sleep. Go now and take the seed with you in your mind. Let it grow. Let it spread. Let it root itself deep and deeper. For when the moment comes and the idea blooms you will hear my words again. You will listen and you will obey. Now obey!" And everyone stood up in unison, walking out of the tavern mindlessly, following his order. At the next morning nobody remembered this man, nor his words. Their memories of the evening were pleasant, but vague, like a story, almost forgotton, told long ago. Scene / Environment (i.g. Baso Jungle): Filled Tavern, in the middle of a crowd, his arms wide open, the strange power running through his arm and eyes, charming the people around him. Card Level: Pioneer Card Value: 2 Ability: 5 / 5 / 2 / 1 Willbreaker: If he is next to any enemy card with the Level Master or lower, once per game, he can take control of the enemy unit for this turn. The card can move, attack and use abilities, as if it has not moved, attacked or used an ability this turn.

( Art I'll use in this post is mine unless I specify it. In this case, it's mostly a visual representation of what I think they'd look like. ) Race: Naphas ( Nish )

If Nordur and the character should look like you - No, but i'll gladly send pictures of myself as a pose for the character if requested.

Name : Shyrus

Appearance: The scales her body are ivory, just like the scales on her jaw, throat, solar plexus, and lower tail. The external side of her body is covered in gray scales, hiding a yellow skin tone behind said scales. The observing eye will notice that her eyes are colored just like amber.

On this image, she has some horns. Please ignore this.

Clothing/Armor/Gear/Weapons: As her natural abilities let her spit an anesthesia-inducing venom over five meters, she does not wear armor that would be considered heavy for her kind, and is more often than not wearing light yet resistant clothing on her chest. As for gear, she'd be carrying a lute and a machete. She'd also be carrying an utility knife.

Characteristic: A gentle, slow to anger, and compassionnate bard, who, once angered, will rip and tear through those who angered her.

Story background: ( Quick idea : ) Maybe the member of a troop that got lost in the jungle / got ambushed and was the sole survivor despite her attempt at healing them, and when realized they were beyond saving, used her own venom on them to try and grant them a painless death ? Sorry, I'm bad at writing backstories.

Scene / Environment (i.g. Baso Jungle): Baso jungle

Card Level : Pioneer

Card Value: 2

Ability: None

Race: Nordur

Name: Mulk the Farmhand

Appearance: Simple stereotypical average farmer with my face on it.

Clothing/Armor/Gear/Weapons: Typical farmer gear with pitchfork

Characteristic: Family guy. Laughs a lot. Lazy

Story background:

There was a Mulk

He was a hulk.

After a while

Mulks were in bulk

With joy and pleasure

They need no treasure

Mulks on a tile

Too numerous to measure

Mulks are waiting

No use of baiting

Give them some time

To reach gold rating

Behold this scene

Totally clean

What a crime

The mulks are fifteen

Scene / Environment (i.g. Baso Jungle): farmland with more mulk on background arriving or as shadows. Art could reflect the gameplay favor of being able to play several mulks.

Card Level: Warrior

Card Value: 1/1/1/1 stacks up to 15 times.

Ability: None.

Race: naphas

Sex: female 

Design: a long, sleek, ridable wind serpent.

Stars: 2 or 3 depending on balance

Stats: 1 attack, 1 defense, 3 movement, 1 range

Ability: can form a troop with any unit, the troop will have 3 movement as long as this card is within it.

Race: Naphas

Look: something close to this if possible

weapon: magic, and a dagger (if represented is battle)

scene: either defending a drakir nest from some intruder, or watching over a drakir egg as it hatch/drakir wyrmlings.

Name:Jupo Ithael or guard of the wyrmlings.

Class: hermeticist

level: either pioneer or warior

class stats: life 4, attack 1, move 2 range 2 skill: Meat Shield (Drakir): when a Drakir card from the naphas is adjacent to me on the battlefield, i protect it from damage, taking it at it's place. protective effect that would target me are ignored for this skill's purpose.

story (quick idea): Not everyone is born with the strenght of the drakir. It is natural for us to protect them, for they will protect us in return, once Yasash has teached them to behave for the safety of everyone. But when there is too much work for the drakir priest, some of us accept to take the task to keep an eye on the younger ones. From the egg to the age of flight, we are to keep them safe from vermines and intruders alike. This often mean taking the hits while they hide, but it is a sacrifice we are ready to make, for we are the wyrmling's guards.

Name: Last Defender of Hochbrett

Looks: It should look like me.

Appearance: Old rusted chainmail with a spear and shield in hand, bow on the back. Large hood only gives hints of his face. The hooded figure is standing watch, an old weary helmet is laying near him on the old crumbling wall.

Characteristic: A myth. Noone truly knows, but storis tell that back in the day these common soldiers sent to an outpost saw some of the harshest fights, but their legends were never sung.

Card level: Warrior

Card values: 7(atk)/7(def)/0(movement)/1(range) stacks up to 3 times.

Effect: None.

----------

Northwest from Firnend somewhere in the mountains once stood an outpost to the jarldom of Firnend. Many soldiers swore oaths and spent their whole life there protecting the jarldom for centuries. The fortress was once a glorius monument to men and great demonstration of Nordur war architecture. The third era ended and peace settled in the age of Unionia. The great fort of Hochbrett began to crumble. Cycles passed and the outpost became an old wives tale in both Nordur and Tagari cultures.

’Grandma, please tell us the tale of the lost fortess’ ’Alright you little rascals, but then promise me you will sleep after this one… Once upon a time when mankind arrived on the continent raging war broke out amongst the races. There stood the strong city of Firnend amidst the cloud of war. You might all have heard tales of battles around Firmend, but this story takes places high in the mountains, in the secret fortress of Hochbrett. It was our ancestors defender from the northwest and has seen many fierce battles. Once an entire regiment guarded the high walls of the fortress that could repell hundreds of even the most savage Tagari warriors. The defenders all swore an oath to keep the realm of men protected at any cost and never leave their watch’

’Wow nanny… And can I go to the fort too when I grow up?’

’Foolish child, shut your mouth and let me finish the tale. Peace settled amongst the people and once the great fortess began to lose it’s glory. Cycles passed and it faded away from the memory of the people...’

’But grandma! What happened to all the soldiers who swore oaths never to leave?’

’I don’t know child. But legends tell about caravans that got lost in the mountains, hunting parties disappeared, and the Tagari still dread that cursed place to this day. And all the little children that wander off into the mountains to seek adventure and search for the fort never return to their home. So sleep tight child, and never go near those mountains.’

Nowadays Hochbrett stays forgotten or in shady tales, but the legend itself is more common amongst the Tagari living near Kimala. But for those unfortunate souls who enter the crumbling walls of Hochbrett certain doom awaits. For the last defenders of Hochbrett still patrol the old walls and will not tolerate any intruders. How are they still alive? How old are they? Noone knows. But looking a Hochbrett defender in the eye is the same as giving death a kiss.

--------------

Picture I imagine how Hochbrett looks like in the current era:

Picture similar to the appearance what I imagined, altough in my mind they have chainmail and the armor and weapons are much more wartorn

Race: Tagari

Genera: Tokala

Name: Mahno Lumin Chas’ala

Appearance, Clothing/Armor/Gear/Weapons:

A white, fairly small Tagari with grey at the ends of his tails and limbs. Wears a dark blue and light grey hooded cloak. Wears snowshoes. Has a staff in his hand, with a tip/stone at the top that is partially warm orange and partially bright blue. Looks somewhat stern and wiry.

Characteristic:

Cryomancer. Leader of the Waykeepers of Akah. Although he seems a very stern person at first sight, he also has a soft side, which comes to the surface when he’s not traversing the mountains and working as an artist during summer.

Story background:

Among the Tokala in Thaa Tokala, ice sculpting is a well-known pastime activity. The best ice sculpturs are well respected, and compete against each other in yearly contests. This contest however, things didn’t go as planned…

It was at the yearly sculpting contest that it happened. The crowd was watching in amazement as the sculpture were taking shape. This year’s contest was to be one of the biggest yet, and a huge room, close to the surface of Akah, was chosen to be the place of the contest. However, there was a problem with this room that nobody had thought off, which quickly became apparent when dawn broke after a long night of sculpting. The room was too close to the surface, and temperature was rising.

Everyone watched in horror as the sculptures slowly started melting. People started hastily taking up the sculptures and bringing them to colder rooms on the lower levels, but it seemed too late already and the first sculptures started losing shape. However, when all was thought to be lost, Mahno came to the rescue. He was present at the contest, a young Tagari still, and his mind was looking for a solution. Then his dormant powers awakened.

Suddenly, the sculptures were growing again, the lost ice freezing onto the sculptures again and their shapes being regained. Confusion spread through the crowd, until it noticed Mahno. He was standing there. He was standing very still, and very focused. His hands were glowing with a cold, bluish glow. And everyone knew he was the one causing this spectacle. After what felt like hours, he woke up. He was confused. He didn’t know what had just happened, but saw the crowd was looking at him. There was a silence, and then the crowd broke out in acclaim. Mahno looked around, not knowing what to do, but then a Waykeeper moved up through the crowd and approached him. ‘A Waykeeper’, the crowd whispered. ‘One of Those Who Free the Path.’ ‘Young lad,’ he said to Mahno, ‘It looks like you have a talent. It looks like this talent just broke free. It looks like you are one of us.’ ‘Sir,’ Mahno’s pack leader said, ‘I don’t think Mahno is fully awared of what he just did. Maybe we can give him some rest?’ ‘That is good,’ the Waykeeper said. ‘But you and me, we need to talk about this young Tagari.’ Then Mahno was taken home, exhausted, and slept for a day and a night.

‘What happened? Who was that man?’ were the first things he asked when he woke up again. ‘That man is a Waykeeper,’ Mahno’s pack leader said. ‘During the winter, when there is ice and snow, the ways to Akah and Thaa Tokala are just barely traversable. If it were not for the Waykeepers, we would be close to isolated from the rest of the Tagari for most of the cycle. However, they keep the ways free. They are hermeticists, capable of controlling ice and snow, and they use that power to keep the paths free during winter. They are not with a lot, but they are important and respected by all Tokala. They have sensed this talent in you as well.’

Mahno spent the next cycles training with the Waykeepers and quickly became a full-fledged member of the guild. Before long he was recognised as one of their most talented members, and when the current leader died, he was appointed as the new leader of the Waykeepers. He was an adult now, in his 30th cycle, and could draw from many cycles of experience. By now, the long months spent in blizzards and biting cold have made him a hardened veteran; and because he knows the importance of his task, he pursues it with determination. Never-ending is this task, for the paths always snow under again. But while this reality has made some Waykeepers joyless and cynical, Mahno is a joyful being under his stern surface; and when he comes back into Akah during summer, he joins the ice sculptors in their workplaces, using his powers to make the most beautiful sculptures, and thinking back to that day he learned who he was.

Scene / Environment:

Mahno is plowing through a snowstorm. He’s leaning forward and on his staff. He is clearly focused and concentrated on getting all of the snow out of the way and the way free, which is a hard task. In front of him the snow is giving way and going around him (can be done with a visible force field, but also without), while behind him the path stays free of ice and snow.

Card Level:

Master

Class:

Hermeticist

Card Value:

Attack: 6

Defense: 8

Movement: 2

Range: 1

Ability:

Area Damage Ability idea:

Impairment ability that reduces the attack of enemies in an AoE by x for one turn

**Race:**

Naphas

**Name:**

Wax Dra, the Scrollkeeper

**Appearance:**

A young hatchling with sickly white-ish yellow-ish skin, his shell covered with unfolded

scrolls, parchments, and melted wax. Wears a dark black robe with a hood on to shield from light

and peeping eyes. Sheets of papers are tucked into this robe, and seem to be falling out, peeking

underneath would reveal even more scrolls held together by wax. He holds a long staff with writings

on the hilt and a large lamp on the top.

**Characteristic:**

The clumsy, albeit curious assistant of the former Grand Librarian, Borx Eph.

**Scene / Environment:**

Sitting in a dark library that seems to be part of a dungeon of some sort, hunching over a

damaged book with a blue cover, reading it underneath the light of his staff. His master can

be seen holding a lamp over his head while taking off a book from one of the shelves.

**Story:**

The old wagon slowly reached the hilltop above the valley. The two horses let out a tired sigh

as the wooden stairs at the end of the cart started creaking under the heavy steps of Borx.

The giant Shelx stopped for a second to savor the first lights of the morning, then took a deep

breath. Looking around he could see the mountains they came from and the village in the valley

they were heading towards. He watched as the windows and doors opened and women, men, and children

started their daily routine.

Borx's peaceful observation was broken by the wagon's door getting smashed open as his little

assistant stumbled over half asleep.

- The car stopped, did we arrive? - yawned Wax. His unkempt robes got quickly gathered and organized

as the sun's piercing rays started shimmering on his pale white skin. He had to cower himself

quickly. Borx watched as the hatchling nervously put his clothing right before he answered.

- Yes, it's just ahead, down there. - pointed the giant at the village.

- Do you think it's still there? - looked up the young one.

- Maybe, the mémoire of their late "Jarl" said the book was transported to the village of Yne.

That place doesn't exist anymore. There is only Ynelpe, built on top of its remains.

As you can see about 40 souls, living mostly from hunting game.

- I see no library of any sorts. - said Wax with a pinch of fear in his voice.

- Neither do I, but we still have to investigate.- Borx gave a bowl of water to the horses.

- Good thing we bought these creatures, master. Truly splendid idea!

- They are not as powerful as our beasts, but more reliable. Get in the cart, we are heading down.

The villagers started gathering around the square. They have seen nothing alike to the large cart

in front of them. It was like a little house, the walls carved out of dark wood with small yellow windows.

From inside came no light. Standing in front of it a large hunchback figure stood, lifting crates

out of the wagon. His body covered in a large robe with a piece of cloth hanging from the hood somehow covering

his entire face.

The bystanders cautiously, albeit curiously, watched as all manner of strange things appeared from the vehicle.

They whispered among themselves, trying to figure out what is what they see. Some thought just another merchant,

some suggested he might be a victim of the new disease they heard roared down south. The first one to step up

was Old Corvin, once a bodyguard of the jarl. He had seen many winters, but his hands still firmly grappled his

large axe.

- Who are you? - he shouted.

The figure took a slow turn, then bowed before the man.

- Just a traveling merchant, good sir.

He had something in his voice, the way he spoke that made the villagers shrivel but relax at the same time.

The hunchback had a strong accent they couldn't recognize.

Corvin let down his axe.

- So it seems, what are you selling?

- This and that. Mostly medicine.

Hearing that the women stepped closer, inspecting the cargo.

- My assistant can tell you what the vials contain. - the figure said. - In the meantime, I would like to take

a look at your library.

The door to the wagon opened and a small person stepped out, covered up like his master. The only difference was

the oozing wax coming from under the sheets. He spoke the language with struggle but could maintain a conversation

regardless.

- Library? - Corvin raised an eyebrow, his grip strengthened once again. - We have no library.

- Well, not anymore it seems. - looked around the merchant.

The night came, darkness loomed over the valley. Wax stood silently as his master weaved the strings of magic

in the air. They were behind the largest house in the village, also the only one with stone bricks as a foundation.

- We'll get in trouble master! We need to leave. - the hatchling whispered.

- Don't worry, I almost got it.

Just as he said that a portion of the wall started to fade into non-existence, revealing an endless row of stairs

leading down to the dark. The two Naphas walked down step-by-step, reaching a large door at the end of the tunnel.

Borx took out a key from his bag, opening the large lock with it. On the other side, a large gloomy room appeared,

the walls stuffed with shelves, the shelves stuffed with an endless tide of books.

- I thought the Nordur write on scrolls, that they don't cover their text with leather. - the hatchling gasped.

- On that you are right, I am just as surprised as you are. - Borx took a step forward.

Suddenly they heard something behind them. Up the stairs. The former Grand Librarian quickly took a step back from

the now-closed door behind them. They heard a familiar voice from the other side.

- You'll pay for entering here stranger! This is OUR knowledge! - Corvin bashed in the door, axe in hand. - I was

tasked with keeping it from the likes of you, and I will carry out that task without hesitation.

The man charged at Borx, who quickly dodged the first strike, but in the rush of the moment his face-cover fell off.

- HA! A lizard, just as I thought! - the old man shouted, swinging his axe wildly.

The next strike got blocked by a string of blue light, but Corvin did not stop. He kicked the Shelx who stumbled backward,

with no way to defend from the incoming attack.

That's when a bright blue light shined up in the corner, striking the Nordur, making him fall on his knees.

He wasn't wounded, just tired.

- What did you do to me? - he shouted before succumbing to the spell of Wax, and falling asleep.

Borx slowly stood up, giving an approving nod to his assistant before sheathing a sword back under his robes.

- Gather yourself, hatchling, we are searching for II. Strigiform's last written book called the

"Fragment of the Sky".

**Card**

Level: Pioneer.

Class: Hermeticist.

Attack: 3

Defense: 6

Movement: 1

Range: 2

Ability (idea 1):

--Organise Lore--

Restructure the order of the cards in your deck by a specific factor when some conditions are met.

-Scrollkeeper-

While this card is on the battlefield, you draw the cards with the highest defense in your deck.

Ability (idea 2):

--Collect Lore--

Increase one or more of the Battle Values when your Masters, Guardian or Hero have fallen.

-The Heroes of Past-

Gain 1 Attack if one of your Masters falls (only the first time), 1 Movement if your Guardian and 1 Range if your Hero.