Tag Archives: worldbuilding

Funeral Songs

Unplanned hiatus + Christmas break = tumbleweeds.

Hopefully, I can get back into my update schedule, so for today, we have a selection of funeral songs to inspire your world-building or to add flavour to a ceremony.

I will probably write more in the future, but for now, enjoy!


A Daughter’s Lament

You, who made me
You, who taught me
You, who helped me,
I weep for you

I weep for our past
I weep for our family
I weep for our loss
For a future not to be

A future of loss
A future of darkness
A future of hope diminished
A world with one less life

One less ember burning
One less breath of wind
One less smile to brighten a day
One less parent to raise a child

 

From the Stone

From the Stone, to the Stone
From the fire, to the forge.

As our hearts are made of iron,
So are our spirits made of steel.

There is nothing we cannot endure,
No struggle too great or small.

We are the Children of the Stone,
The world is our canvas.

Our life is granted to us by the Earthfather,
And it is taken by the Skymother.

Upon our death, we find peace,
An end to the struggle of life.

Where there is death, there is sadness,
There is pain and there is grief.

But turn this pain inwards,
Use it to temper your steel.

Grow stronger from it,
Become more of who you are.

This world will not mourn them,
It will not mourn you.

We are Children of the Stone,
From the Stone we come,
To the Stone we go.

 

Walk In Their Sight

We mourn you, you who have gone,
We are the many who knew the one,
A bright star passing through the night,
Burning strong in Ivellios’ esteemed sight.

You graced our lives with your love,
Given form by Her Grace above.
A light in the darkness burning strong,
A note on the wind from an unknown song.

As Vaella showed us the mercy of the Divine,
A golden nectar sweeter than any wine,
You brought a smile to our lips and hearts,
As pure as that of any lovers’ arts.

We mourn you, you have gone,
We are the many, who knew the one,
We thank you for teaching us of death,
And we remember you with every breath.

Walk in their light with our blessings, friend.

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Atlas Inspirare: Marcher’s Vale

Marcher’s Vale is a large, flat grassland. Claimed hundred years ago by the family of a long forgotten Lord, it takes its name from its use as a regular staging post for military forces during the long years of the Emerald War.

Situated on the borders of the Gravewyld Forest and the human kingdom of Ravanosk, Marcher’s Vale is roughly fifty square miles of arable pasture land. Situated within its borders are many farms, hamlets and villages, comprised mostly of human and elven settlers from the surrounding countryside.

Unlike other areas of the land, there are almost no racial tensions among the people of the Vale. This is due, in part, to the necessities of life here. With almost no resources other than fresh water and arable land, everyone must tend to their own craft in order to survive. As a result, the inhabitants of the Vale depend upon each other for survival and there is a remarkably low crime rate.

What crime there is, is dealt with the by Reeve. Appointed by the monarch in the far away city of Rusthold, the Reeve holds office from a fortified mansion in the largest settlement of the Vale, the city of Marcher’s Keep.

An ancient motte and bailey castle, Marcher’s Keep remained the only permanent structure in the Vale for centuries. Situated atop the lone hill, known to all as Giant’s Seat, Marcher’s Keep was built to guard the Vale during the Emerald War and was converted into a market town after the end of that conflict. Now, it functions as the trading centre of the Vale, as well as housing the few officials deemed necessary to keep the Vale a functioning region of Ravanosk.

Home to the Reeve, the Tithe-counter and the High Confessor, Marcher’s Keep is a thriving urban centre and plays host to a regular calendar of festivals, feast days and celebrations. During one of the many events, anyone is entitled to join the official parades and many use the occasion to catch up with old friends and learn new stories.

For their part, the three representatives of the King’s court tolerate the local’s predilection for partying with amused condescension. They view it as an easy way of keeping the peace and use every opportunity they can to seed the crowds with their agents to ensure they remain in touch with popular thought and opinion.

Outside of Marcher’s Keep, the towns of Springsough and High Pasture are the largest centres of civilisation.

Springsough is sited at the north tip of the Vale, a large town built in the foothills that rise to meet the White Peaks. With its intimidating walls, twisting streets and well-trained militia, the old city has guarded the source of the life-giving Iallen river for as long as the Vale has been inhabited. Traditionally used to guard the entrances of the Vale against the tribes that call the White Peaks home, Springsough has recently seen an influx of refugees from the nearby Gravewyld.

High Pasture, roughly halfway along the eastern border of the Vale, is almost the opposite of Springsough. The town itself began as a permanent livestock market some two hundred years ago and grew rapidly. Originally a cluster of small stone buildings, High Pasture now counts some fifteen hundred people as its residents with an ever increasing transient population. Situated well away from any traditional threats, High Pasture is a market town without equal in Ravanosk.

Plot Hooks

An unknown illness is sweeping through the stock of High Pasture. No mundane treatments have any effect.

The sounds of conflict can be heard echoing through the tunnels that honeycomb the hills around Springsough, but no bodies have been found.

The Gravewyld burns in the light of the full moon, and dread noises fill the air. Something is happening among those twisted trunks.

Marcher’s Keep has long stood for civilisation and the royalty, but recently there have been whispers of dissent. Parties unknown seem to be attempting to overthrow the royal presence.

Armies of the past have begun appearing as spectral images roving the grasslands around the tiny hamlet of Rulfstead. No official authority has deemed the matter worthy of investigation.