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within the boundaries of the Dwendalian Empire.
Emerging 13 generations before, the Dwendalian
Empire has slowly spread to encompass the
surrounding societies of the region, absorbing the
peoples of the Zemni Fields and the Marrow Valley,
before finally conquering the Julous Dominion and
taking the whole of Western Wynandir for the
Empire.
SAM: There will be no test.
MATT: No. This is– let me continue. Under the
rule of the current King Bertrand Dwendal, now in
his 68th year, most are left to their own devices.
You live as you did before. The crown only takes a
tithe of what you produce and earn. You follow its
laws, worship its gods, and bow to its installed
local leadership. In return, denizens of the
Empire are protected from the chaotic horrors and
shadowed evils that stalk the edges of the
civilized lands. This accord has led to a
prosperous century for the Empire, or at least the
political elite. Tensions brew beneath the
chafing watch of the Crown’s Guard. Every temple
is government-owned and run, and worship outside
the approved idolatry is met with imprisonment.
Rumors of military clashes at the eastern border
near Xhorhas have many common folk on edge. Our
story, however, begins much smaller. Here in the
southern reaches of the Marrow Valley, beyond the
entry gates of the Wuyun Gorge, lies the small
rural town of Trostenwald. Bordering the blue
waters of the Ustaloch, this town came to
prominence near the turn of this recent century,
when the surrounding fertile farmlands were
discovered to produce a unique type of grain and
wheat, leading to a boom of breweries. When the
glut subsided, three large families stood
triumphant in the local business of fermented
delights. Now Trostenwald thrives on their exports
of fish, crops, and ale. Here in this sleepy trade
stop along the Amber Road, a handful of wandering
destinies slowly begin to intersect.
We begin in the early hours of the morning on the
day of Grissen in a messy room on the second floor
of the Nestled Nook Inn. A bleary-eyed, bruised
man in a tattered coat slowly wakens from his
lengthy sleep, catching his small, snoring ally
curled at the foot of the bed. Liam, if you would
like to describe your character, please.
(nervous laughter)
LAURA: Oh my god, no pressure!
SAM: Were we supposed to prepare this?
LIAM: I’m pretty filthy. I have a mess of
reddish-brown hair, and really filthy road
clothes. I wear a long coat that I slept in. I
slept about 20 hours last night. Jeez. Unshaven, a
bit of a mess.
SAM: So far you’re just talking about current
Liam.
LAURA: What color are your eyes? I need visual.
LIAM: They’re blue. That’s it. It was a rough day
yesterday, and– that’s it.
MATT: And your name is?
LIAM: Oh. Caleb. Caleb Widogast.