The world of Salt & Sanctuary is a interesting place, bits of lore and history contained within the weapons you can forge, the bestiary, and even the viscera of your fallen foes. And yet, one of the most lengthy bits of backstory is available to the player almost immediately, in the form of the skill tree. Unforunately, the skill tree's arrangement makes discerning a straightforward narrative extremely difficult.

Hence, this particular project :: To transcript the various stories which exist in the item menu, and arrange them as a lore guide- so that those interested can read a bit more about the stories of this world, and enjoy these short stories, without having to play 'Where's Waldo' with the next part of the story.

If anyone is interested in making the process of scribbling out these segments, it would be appreciated :). Also, any corrections, or segments I might miss.

In the meantime, 'Praise the Salt'.

(Also, check out my youtube @
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The following excerpts from the skill tree list can be compiled to form complete narratives.

The Burning Clouds, The Cat King, Chauncey's Medecine, The Crimson Quell, The Foley Knoll Horror, Panthonus, The Pencen Pilgrimage, The Poisoner's Field Guide, and The Tale Of Vel Karam

“What follows in the Prophecy of Burning Clouds, a vision of Kira the Blind, seer of Kens and Greenfarm, a village in the region of Liven.”


“When the world burns, it will not be by the hands of kings or gods or demons, but by the hand of a shunned assassin.”


“His station would be that of a servant in scullery, and his days and nights would be spent scrubbing pans and poisoning rats.”


“And he would meet death early, but not by ordinary means.”


“He would be waylaid by bandits and sold as property to a sorcerer of blood magic.”


“And in the sorcerer’s hut, which hid in a mire feared by careful men, the sorcerer would make rituals of blood magic and Salt Alkymancy, perversions of the order of life itself.”


“And the scullery servant’s chest would be hewn, and his heart would be taken, that the sorcerer’s rituals could be made complete.”


“And the servant’s body will be wrapped in linens and covered in balms, to preserve for burial.”


“But the next morning, the body of the servant will be nowhere to be found.”


“Spirits of sea will have rescued him, and have brought him to the sea, and have exchanged dead salt for living salt, so that his life will be made new, though his heart will be gone still.”


“And his body would be made strong by salt not of this world, for his will would become fiercer than any man, though he would lack a heart in his chest.”


“And in undeath, by salt not of this world, he would gain mastery of blade and body.”


“And he would shed his name, knowing only vengeance and justice.”


“Though he would have neither practiced nor studied, in undeath he would become swifter and more deadly than the most decorated Tristini swordsman.”


“And he would seek neither fame nor power, but he would seek vengeance and justice, visiting first the sorcerer of the mire, whose wicked ritual robbed him of his life.”


“And though he would be of Tristin, he would wield the taichi of his ancestors’ ancestors, a blade of masterful craftsmanship.”


“So in night he would visit death upon the sorcerer of the mire, setting fire to his hut of and the grim things it held.”


“But he would not go back to his village, being an abomination of blood magic and Salt Alkymancy.”


“So he would set into the mire, putting to the blade and to flame all evil men and wicked purveyors of blood magic and Salt Alkymancy.”


“And in time he would be lost in the fire, beyond a trail of blood and ashes, lost of this time.”

“But hear would appear again in one thousand and twenty four years, again, in the form of a scullery servant.”


“And his fate would be the same as of old, and he would again be captured and slaughtered, his heart taken by wicked practitioners of blood magic and Salt Alkymancy, though they would be known by different names in this time.”


“And in this time he will have a sister not of blood, and she will become enthralled by blood magic and Salt Alkymancy, and he will slay her in battle.”


“And in this time, the practitioners of blood magic and Salt Alkymancy will have enthralled most men, having built towers of metal and light that capture Fire and Sky.”


“And he will ascend the towers of metal and light, and he will slay the practitioners of blood magic and Salk Alkymancy, and he will slay their thralls and constructs.”


“And his companion will be flesh made of the spirits of the sea, an agent of salt not of this world, taking form of a scullery cook.”


“But they will discover that the evil that came of blood magic and Salt Alkymancy had spread into the very soil, poisoning the world to its very core.”


“And so servant and cook will usher in the end of the world in burning clouds.”

“These are things I, Kira the Blind have seen, seeing not things of this time, but of a time to come.”

“Many regard the sight of cats to be a sign of good fortune. Most of the time, they are right. But one particular land knows only fear of cats and the trouble they bring, should one come home with them.”


“Once upon a time, a very small and skinny silver cat sought shelter from the elements under a simple wooden box. The box only kept out some of the rain and wind, but it was better than nothing.”


“A haggard and worn-looking man saw the silver cat, and the cat looked quite cold. He brought the cat back to his shack so they could keep each other warm. Perhaps good fortune would befall the man.”


“For a time, the man and the silver cat kept each other warm. The shack kept out most of the rain and wind. But soon, the man fell ill and could no longer leave his bed. He could no longer leave the shack.”


“Not long after falling ill, the man died. Some time after his death, a little old lady that was out picking mushrooms happened upon the shack. She found a small silver cat who looked lonely, so she took the cat home to her cottage to keep her company.”


“For a time, the little old lady and the silver cat kept each other company. The cottage was warm and kept out all of the rain and wind. The old lady grew older and soon could no longer leave the cottage.”


“Not long after, the woman died. The woman had no heir, so the cottage was to be auctioned. While taking stock of the cottage, the town adjudicator discovered a silver cat. Needing a cat to hunt the mice that plagued his home, he took the cat back to his house.”


“For a time, the silver cat dutifully chased mice from the adjudicator's home, but sooner than not, the mice were all gone. Having no more need for a cat, the adjudicator kicked the cat out.”


“Not long after the auction, a widowed heiress called upon the adjudicator in his home. But he was nowhere to be found! She found only a large silver cat. Looking for a companion for her children, she brought the cat back to her large estate.”


“For a time, the silver cat kept the heiress' children happy. But as the children grew, their interests shifted from toys and games to hunting and courtship, and they grew bored of the cat.”


“Not long after, a widower king seeking a new bride came across the estate, but in it he found only a huge silver cat. The cat whispered to him that he only need bring the cat back to his castle and marry it, and the cat would turn into a beautiful princess.”


“The king brought the silver cat back home to his castle and married the cat in a secret ceremony, lest he become the subject of ridicule. But when the cat did not turn into a human princess, the prince grew angry and tried to kill the cat.”


“I need not tell you what happened to the king but it is said that a great silver cat still resides in that castle: a ruler of that land, feared by all. To this day, the castle stands unoccupied and the villagers bring tribute to the landing of the castle, lest a cat come home with them.”

“Medicine through poultices and salves, as differentiated from medicine through divine channels, has long been practiced by healers and sages since the time before writing.”

-Chauncy's Medecine, s. 1.

“Most modern medicines trace their roots back to Kadanian Rojiella, or Red Grass, a furry, fernlike grass plant known to grow in the most poisonous corners of Kadanian swampland. Red Grass is extremely bitter when chewed, but can be made palatable by grinding with mortar and pestle and mixed with sweet cider.”

-Chauncy's Medecine, s. 2.

“The effects of Red Grass are nearly miraculous: those who consume Red Grass have noted rapid mending of wounds, the disappearance of scars, and general waves of undescribable wellness. Were it not so costly to produce and harvest, this realm could expect the eradication of disease and death, as well as swarms of grass-addicted peasantry.”.

-Chauncy's Medecine, s. 3.

“Red Grass was bred into various other flora, such as Crimflower to the east, a flowering grass with similar properties, or Winemoss to the north, a thatching, fuzzy grass that can survive in mountainous climates.”

-Chauncy's Medecine, s. 4.

“In the north, where baking is culturally intertwined with good health, and baker and healer are one in the same, bakers create a dough with powdered Winemoss, mixing in sweet dried fruits and grapes, and bake sweet Hearty Rolls.”


-Chauncy's Medecine, s. 5.

“To the east, Crimflower falls under the watchful jurisdiction of The Three, with the syrupy Crimflower product known as “Red” placed under close regulatory control, bearing an official crest stamp or being subject to anti-contraband law. This has created a black market for unofficial Red, known as Shards.”

-Chauncy's Medecine, s. 6.

"To the south, a smaller breed of crimflower known as Eye of Hearts is cultivated by clerics of Devara and mixed with blessed Lightwater to create the magical potion known as Water of Blessing. Clerics to Devara devote most of their resources to keeping their Water of Blessing stockpiles full, as providing healing to the poor is their main method of proselytizing."

-Chauncy's Medecine, s. 7.

“Deceptively similar looking to Kadanian Red Grass is Kadanian Blue though its physiology is completely different from Rojiella. Blue Grass, sometimes known as Moon Grass, is actually the frond-like extensions that grow on cave fungi known as White Aziema. The base of the Aziema is actually highly toxic, but the fronds are extremely vitalizing.”

-Chauncy's Medecine, s. 8.

“Like with Rojiella, derivative breeds of Aziema fungus are used throughout the continents in revitalizing medicine. A blue moss that grows in the southern and eastern continents is blended with spiced mead to create a powerful elixir that can invigorate without excessively dulling the senses.”

-Chauncy's Medecine, s. 9.

“In monasteries to Devara, clerics prepare special cloths of canvas as tools for reenergizing paladins and healers. Cloths of canvas are trimmed, hemmed, and elegantly embroidered, then soaked for 7 days in baths of perfume and blue moss paste.”


-Chauncy's Medecine, s. 10.

“For vigorating medicine, Dorian prefer Leuryte Crystal, mined in the mountains of Markdor. Delicately mined with great difficulty, the crystal is easily crushed, disintegrating and absorbing into the skin of whomever crushes it.”

-Chauncy's Medecine, s. 11.

“Rojiella and Aziema derivatives have even been found in strong wine. The particular techniques for preparing and fermenting these wines is unknown, as they are extremely rare and of nebulous origins.”

-Chauncy's Medecine, s. 12.

Transcribers Notes:: The main purpose of Chauncy's Medecine seems to be a combination of lore building, and explaining the various healing items provided by the different creeds in the game. It also serves the purpose of placing where these items would have originated, worldwise.

"Aldrek donned his magnificent black metal plate, fastening his heavy leather belt over his blue quilted surcoat. He slipped his large hands into articulated metal gauntlets, placed a metal helm upon his head, and hoisted his great halberd on his shoulder."

The Crimson Quell, para 1

"He was the captain of the Ironforged Guard, tasked with protecting the Dorian crown princess Umali, future Chair of the Council of Steel. Four hours a day he would train with blunted weapons in the yard, and 12 hours a day he would spend keeping watch in the castle's royal wing."

The Crimson Quell, para 2

"He didn't only keep watch; he listened. From beneath his motionless plate, behind those expresionless eyes, he saw, heard, processed, sorted, and analyzed every morself of information that happened across his station."

The Crimson Quell, para 3a

"He knew that Clark's nephew Tibs owed coin to the Court Hollows ruffians, for instance. And he knew that Count Emerel had been spreading favors outside of the official court in hopes of garnering support. But he never saw the Crimson Quell coming."


The Crimson Quell, para 3b

"There were clues, but Aldrek was powerless to put them to use; he noted Councilman Fardrik's absence from the morning minutes, but he may have taken ill. Doolie chamers, initiate to the guard and second cousin of Councilman Fardrik, was late to morning roll, but that wasn't incredibly unusual. And a set of keys to the larder had gone missing, but that was more likely a consequence of negligence than an act of foul play."

The Crimson Quell, para 4

"But at the first sound -- a shout amidst ringing steel echoing through the halls -- Aldrek knew. Ally would become enemy, and he would have to cleave his countrymen to save his princess. But in whom should he trust? His first order of business was clear enough: Protect the girl."

The Crimson Quell, para 5

"Umali, crown princess of Markdor, future Chair of the Council of Steel, was a girl of 11 years. But Dorian girls of high station were very much opposite of those from the souther continents, practicing the martial arts well ahead of the noble arts, excelling in dueling and markmanship, not dancing and bowing."

The Crimson Quell, para 6

"Aldrek nodded to Mans, a fellow Ironforged Guard, and both entered the princess' chamber. She was safe in bed, slightly stirring in her sleep. He breathed a sigh of relief."

The Crimson Quell, para 7a

"The princess' room had a sophisticated lockdown mechanism, one built for an occasion such as this, where the Ironforged Guard itself could be potentially compromised. Aldrek gave another nod to Mans, and the two set about securing the room. The future Chair of the Council of Steel would live to see another day."

The Crimson Quell, para 7b

"The room secured, Aldrek set about his martial duty. As quickly as one can stealthily move in plate, he moved faster, razor-sharp halberd in hand, his face fierce with righteous rage."

The Crimson Quell, para 8

"Rounding a corner, Aldrek came across a scene of carnage: Popin, the squire, lay contorted in a pool of blood, his head almost completely severed at the neck. Next to him was Yarmal of the Guard, bloodied and hunched against a marble column, his face a motionless mask of ivory. Yarmal was a superior fighter, but he looked to have taken a blade to the lung."

The Crimson Quell, para 9

"Suddenly, an assailant lept from behind a doorway! The black-cloaked figure bore a wickedly grinning wooden mask stained as black as his cloak, and wielded a curved dagger in his bloodstained hand. He lunged at Aldrek with a shriek, his dagger flashing in the torchlight."

The Crimson Quell, para 10

"But Aldrek's experience in the yard had prepared him well. He deftly struck at the assailant's dagger hand with the butt of his halberd and felt the unmisteable crunch of the man's forearm bone snapping, the bloody blade dropping to the floor. Spinning the halberd over his shoulders, Aldrek drove the axe blade into the man's shoulder at the base of the neck, rending him neck to spleen."

The Crimson Quell, para 11

"No sooner had the masked man collapsed into a twisted, unidentifiable mass of gore and ichor than a trio of similarily dressed men rushed into the doorway. The four must have heard Aldrek approaching; the first was unlucky to be so quick to investigate."

The Crimson Quell, para 12

"But Aldrek's skill against multiple attackers was formidable indeed. He thrust his halberd's spear tip into the gut of the nearest and fastest assassin, shifted his weight, and sent the doomed man hurling into the man to his right, the tip tearing the man's bowels from his chest, sending the pair sprawling in a tangled heap of viscera."

The Crimson Quell, para 13

"The third attacker faltered at Aldrek's shocking show of violence, but only for the barest instant. He lunged at Aldrek with his dagger, but the blade merely blunted on the Ironforged Guard's plate."

The Crimson Quell, para 14

"Aldrek lashed back with a lightning fast thrust with the butt end of his halberd to the man's chin, shattering the assailant's mask, collapsing his chin into a mangled mess of teeth, bone, and dripping red chunks."

The Crimson Quell, para 15a

"As the man fell backwards, Aldrek threw his weight into a falling slash, driving his halberd's axe head into the man's chest, slamming the hapless assassin into the marble floor beneath him, severed from throat to sternum."


The Crimson Quell, para 15b

"While one of the two other men on the floor was feebly trying to reel in his own bowels, face ashen, the other had risen, drawing a sharpened longsword. Aldrek heard the tinny sounds of plate beneath the man's cloak. Could it be?"

The Crimson Quell, para 16

"The man advanced on Aldrek, blade pointed out, and Aldrek immediately sized him up for what he was: a poor fighter with a knight's arsenal. In a flash, Aldrek expertly tipped his halberd's spear tip at the man's wooden mask, sending the man's mask up, off his face, before he even knew what was happening. It was Doolie Chamers, Ironforged Guard initiate, now a traitor."

The Crimson Quell, para 17

"Doolie's face was a mixture of shock and agony. 'Where are the others?' demanded Aldrek. Doolie said nothing, but shifted his weight in the barest hint of retreat. 'So be it,' said Aldrek, and thrust his blade through the initiate's throat, severing spine and windpipe in an instant."


The Crimson Quell, para 18-21

"The present threat eliminated, Aldrek picked up and started running again, now toward the great hall. He moved quickly, remaining vigilant against ambush, paying keen attention to the sounds of the keep. As he grew closer, he began to hear some commotion. There was shouting, and unmistakable rally of swords striking shields."


The Crimson Quell, para 22

"The scene in the general hall was chaos. The floor was strewn with the bodies of servants, squires, guardsmen, black-cloaked assailants, and a noblewoman in evening dress. Half a dozen Ironforged Guards faced off against a score of cloaked assassins."

The Crimson Quell, para 23

"The outnumbered the Guards would have had the upper hand, were it not for the fact that one of the assassins held a dagger to the throat of King Everen, Chair of the Council of Steel."


The Crimson Quell, para 24a

"Though both sides were shouting, stomping, and banging swords on shields, the assassins held their ground, and the Ironforged would not advance to put their king in peril. But it was King Everen who ended the impasse: in a subtle move, he nodded to Aldrek, bared the faintest hint of a smile, and drove the assassin's blade into his own throat."

The Crimson Quell, para 24b

"In one blood motion, King Everen forfeit his life, ended his rule, and made crown princess Umali the new Chair of the Council of Steel. What was of most immediate import, though, was that he broke the impasse, inviting slaughter upon every last assassin in the keep."

The Crimson Quell, para 25

"And that slaughter was quick, decisive and without mercy. The toll, all told, was three members of the Ironforged Guard, 17 servants and squires, 24 assassins, three council members, the king, and his wife, Queen Forcella. The assailants that were captured alive revealed through questioning that the insurgency was indeed masterminded by Councilman Fardrik."

The Crimson Quell, para 26

"Councilman Fardrik was seized and imprisoned, then executed by Iron Bur, his head tarred and placed on a spike for all to see. Those of his henchman that were captured were all executed by the Five Cuts and given dogs' burials. In time, Markdor returned to greatness. But the Crimson Quell would not be forgotten."

The Crimson Quell, para 27

“The words that follow detail the 192th ranging of the Coats ‘n’ talons, Redbrow division of Liven, as carried out by me, Karmen Cran, division captain. I do hereby swear that all of the things I have claimed and chronicled below are true to the best of my recollection.”


“Our expedition began on the fourteenth day of the month of harvest, in the year Olaresh 472. The purpose of the ranging was to track, hunt, and eliminate gnarlend constructs that had been terrorizing smaller villages to the northeast of Liven.”


“There were 6 in our party. We were tasked with a specific role, but every man among us had be sufficiently trained in all aspects of ranging. I was to take point with whip and crossbow.”


“Ajnders the Birian and Ellia Rum were strikers, equipped with glaive and javelin. Kazik Termin and his cousin Azemar would use bow and scout. And Todgy Longsmith was our chef, though he could crack a skull or two in a pinch.”


“We embarked on the Greengrove Trail, heading northeast from Liven. We would travel three days’ time northeast, then head directly east into the woods to track gnarlends along Cliffendell Crag.”


“We spotted our first sign of gnarlends not far after leaving the trail, with Cliffendell Crag only beginning to rise, still a half day’s journey away. Kazik Termin spied a burnt-looking stump and closer inspection revealed the unmistakable signs: a tree trunk rent as if by flashfire, shrouded in bits of charred, decayed flesh.”


“The origin of gnarlends is a thing of horrible mystery. What we do know is this: some forest tribes will place the corpses stillborn infants inside the trunks of knotted trees, and as the tree grows, perhaps through some horrid magic, a gnarlend is born.”


“Gnarlends are neither living nor dead, neither human, nor plant. They are nightmarishly hideous, bearing misshapen, eerily infantile faces and viny, entangled skin.”


“Fortunately, a gnarlend is killed like any other beast, though they usually take a bit more chopping up. They have no hearts or lungs to pierce, but destroying their heads is a sure way to kill them for good. Fire is also a hunter’s best friend."


“Still, no man wants to face down a gnarlend. Something about their faces is haunting, terrifying, and paralyzing. I’ve heard of steeled men, armed to the teeth, yet frozen in their tracks at the sight of a gnarlend. Overwhelmed, devoured. If anything should get you moving in a showdown with a gnarlend, it’s this: if they get you, they’ll eat your eyes first.”


“There were no tracks around the hewn trunk, but it gave us some clues to go on, as well as confirmation of our quarry.”


“In the day, gnarlends hide high in trees, twisting their writing, misshapen appendages among the branches, rendering themselves almost invisible. There they draw from the tree’s life force, basking in sun. They do it so that when night falls, they’re ready to hunt.”


“We cautiously made our way to Cliffendell Crag, attempting the whole while to spot any gnarlends who may have hidden themselves carefully. Our search was fruitless, unsurprisingly, but we reached the crag and made camp in good time. When night fell, the hunt began.”


“We traveled in groups of two, or two-and-meat as we called it: two men would hoist a torch-bearing straw dummy in front of them and range into the woods, never straying far from camp. The dummies or ‘the meats,’ were crude but useful.”

“The torches they bore made them better bait, illuminated our view ahead,and kept us hidden in shadow. We’d also slather them in the fluids of a dead rabbit for good measure.”


“If a unit was attacked, the other two would retreat toward the attacked unit, careful not to expose their backs as they did so. Gnarlends did not hunt in packs or coordinate attacks, but if the bait was sweet enough for one, the others would soon follow.”


“So, on this night, we began our ranging in formation: Kazik with Ajnders, Ellia with Azemar, and me with Todgy. Todgy was perhaps the bravest chef I knew, though he was certainly the most capable with a crossbow and cleaver.”


“We moved slowly, carefully, me hoisting out torch-bearing ‘meat’ two yeards ahead of us. The straw dummy bobbed and swayed, its torchlight casting an eerily dancing web of light and shadow into the black wood.”


“We both froze at the sound of frenzied scratching to our right. I slowly panned our decoy toward the source of the sound, and saw it there, rapidly descending from the tree, more like a mass of spiders than a single creature. The threshing, gnarled limbs contorted and bent in rapid, unnatural motions, but its fleshy, infant-like face remained steadily fixed in our direction.”


“Without hesitation, I loosed an incendiary bolt from my crossbow. The flame bolt, ignited by the crossbow’s lever mechanism, tore into the woods, finding purchase just below the gnarlend’s head.”


“The creature shrieked a hideous wail, like a screaming infant choked by its own tears, and burst into flame. But I’d missed its head and now it wanted mine.”


“I drove the bait hoist into the ground, making a fixed sentry of our friend the meat. Then I unclasped my whip, a razor sharp blade-tipped steel chain weapon, and lashed it at the monstrosity.”


“I snapped the whip precisely, and the blade connected with a violence that was as elegant as it was visceral. A fist sized chunk of the creature’s head slapped hard onto the forest floor, the rest of the miserable wretch collapsing shortly after.”


“‘Formation!’ I hissed to Todgy, who had already begun to retrieve our bait. But then he vanished into a writing shadow of gnarled limbs. They were dropping from the trees.”


“When we had seen the first gnarlend descend, a thought had struck my mind: we’re too early. Hunting gnarlends that are grounded is one thing, but the things dwell in trees! When they can drop in droves on unsuspecting hunters in the pitch of night, the odds shift dramatically towards despair.”


“I drew my field cleaver and did my best to hack at the thing, but it was too quick, too shapeless, too evasive in the dark of the night. I did finally see its face, when it reared up to wail at me with its gurgling, infant-like wail. Its chin dripped blood and bits of bright red flesh.”


“Before I cleaved the hideous creature’s head in two, I caught a glimpse of what it had done to poor Todgy’s face. Of all the horrible things I’ve seen, if there was just one of them that I could forever erase from my memory, it was that.”


“All around me I could hear the wet, shivering thuds of gnarlends dropping from their perches. I started toward the others, but I had scarcely taken two steps when all four of them had one by one collapsed into shadows, amid human screams and unearthly, nightmarish wails.”


“The torchlight was waning, and I could hear the skittering, gurgling cacophony of gnarlends bearing toward me. I bolted for Cliffendell Crag. I ran desperately, knowing that at any moment my escape could be cut brutally short. They were in the trees, they were everywhere. The woods were theirs.”


“I arrived at our camp at the Crag. I had hoped that the gnarlends would avoid the clearing or the campfire. Perhaps I’d stored some herbs or an icon that would terrify the damn things. But the vile monsters pursued me through the camp, tearing through tents and stumbling over bedrolls, their terrible quickness not diminishing in the slightest.”


“In that moment, I spied an orange glow in the hill to the east. I raced toward it. Perhaps I was racing toward a brigand camp, but even a death at the hands of raiders would be better than to fall to my pursuers.”

“As I ran, the distant glow drew into focus, separating and coalescing into the shape of two windows. It was a small cottage at the top of the hill. I sprinted toward the door, threw it open, ducked inside, and forced my back against it.”


“In the glow of lamplight before me I saw 5 stunned faces: a man, a woman, and three children. The man and woman had been sitting at an oak table; the children had been curled up on straw mattresses. They were certainly surprised, but it seemed like they sized up the situation faster than I’d expect them to. The man raced to the door and threw his weight into it beside me.”


“An unearthly wail erupted from outside the door, then came scratching, clawing, thumping. The door gave way under their weight once, twice, thrice, but we held fast. And then they were gone. We heard the gnarlends rustling shamble and nightmarish melancholy chorus fade into the forest.”


“The man, an Askarian, by the looks of him, dusted me off and helped me to my feet. He wordlessly lumbered to the table, poured a flagon into a dented metal cup, and handed the cup to me. ‘Your health,’ he grunted.”


“‘Hunter, eh?’ he asked as I put the cup to my lips. I nodded. ‘Hunters always welcome here. Drive off th’ demons, keep out th’ evil.’ I smiled and took a deep draught of the drink. ‘Always welcome...’ he seemed to trail off. Then it all went to fog.”


“I came to. I believe it was the next day. I had been stripped of my weapons and fine Redbrow armor, and dressed in a plain canvas tunic and trousers. I was in a different dwelling: a great hall.”


“The walls of the hall were adorned in banners that bore unfamiliar symbols. Figures wearing dark cloaks milled about. But my attention was drawn to the great table at the center of the hall. It was strewn in butchered human corpses.”


“Lined up at the table, hunched over the butchered slabs of human flesh, were a dozen cloaked figures. They were greedily pouring over the slabs, cutting them, drawing them to their faces; they were eating them!”


“On one of the slabs of human flesh I recognized a tattoo: a symbol of a long-disbanded sellsword company called the Brothers of Liven. It was Ajnder’s. They had collected the corpses of my fellow Bloodbrows, butchered them, and were now committing the ultimate act of defilement upon them.”


“I was unarmed, unarmored, and bound. I had no hope but for divine intervention. But the old gods favor my sort over the cannibals and abominations; would they listen? Still as a stone, I breathed the barest breath, mouthing with the most miniscule effort the words of faith that may have meant my deliverance.”


“I remained still. The vile men dining on the remains of my countrymen continued their grim pursuit. I felt at the ropes binding my hands: tied tight. Deliver me, Diadel. Deliver me, Devara.”


“A warm peace fell upon me. It was something I’d never felt before, and would never feel again. It was light, a thousand bright and chiming bells became voices, each one whispering to me. ‘Don’t lose hope,’ they said.”


“I felt as if something ethereal was softly brushing against the tips of my fingers, like a sea of feathers. The weave! The old gods had opened my eyes to the weave of Fire and Sky that surrounds us.”


“I calmly felt the weave, touched it, embraced it, wrapped myself in it. A hooded figure looked up from the table. Then another did. I had their attention now! The man seated nearest me withdrew a rusty knife from a mostly emptied torso and marched toward me.”


“He was near enough now that I could smell his foul carrion breath, his grinning, yellow teeth bared. He let out a cruel, sickly laugh, raised his knife to my throat, pursed his grinning lips. In my stillness, I felt a living heat rising up in my hands. Diadel! The weave!”


“The room erupted in flame. There was a flash, then wave after wave of searing, glowing heat emanated from where I stood, living brilliant arcs and tendrils of red and orange flame, engulfing dozens of the cloaked wretches in flame.”


“I stripped away my now-flaming rope bonds. The firestorm hadn’t hurt my body, but patches of my tunic and trousers were now aflame, and my wrists had been badly burnt by the rope. I hastily patted the flames down, tearing away scraps of burnt canvas.”


“The ground was strewn with burning bodies, and the air was thick with smoke. Some figures still stood, shrieking, dancing, desperately trying in vain to fight off the flames. I wasted no time, grabbing a rusty cleaver from the table and hacking away at anything that still stood.”


“In the smoke and chaos, I was lucky enough to spy a chest near the door. I kicked it open; sure enough, it contained our pilfered Bloodbrow equipment. The room was acrid with smoke, but I held my breath a quickly donned a Bloodbrow helm, jacket, trousers, and boots: the Devil set.”

“A table by the chest held some of our crossbows, but they looked to be in poor shape.”

“A glaive leaned against the wall by the door, probably Ajnders’. I grabbed the weapon and stumbled through the door, into the open outdoors, gasping in the cold air. The great hall roared in flame behind me.”


“A dozen more cloaked miscreants stood before me. In the daylight, I realized that I was in a small village. There were maybe a dozen dwellings. I must have been captured in one of them. I raised my glaive.”


“I could still feel the weave of Fire and Sky in my fingertips. Focusing on my glaive, I gently drew from the weave, somehow collecting tendrils of ethereal forces in a familiar yet alien process, building energy until my glaive glowed with celestial fire. I slashed broadly at my assailants.”


“The glaive cut through my foes as a hot knife cuts through buttercream. Their hewn forms flared in blood and fire, spraying sparks and gore, collapsing into smoking heaps of charred flesh. I slashed and slashed until just one man remained. He turned and ran.”


“In a few steps, I was upon him. I slashed low with flaming glaive, severing one leg at the calf, deeply wounding the other at the ankle. He pitched forward in a shower of sparks, his bloodied, torn trousers alighting in flame.”


“’You den of monsters,’ I said as I kicked him over to his back. ‘Tell me why I should show mercy.’ He was no man. I had butchered a woman, and that woman was with child. She began to laugh.”


“‘You wanted to kill monsters, hunter? Careful, lest ye become one, eh?’ she croaked, laughing. As she spoke, she crept away on mangled, burnt legs. Prone, the shape of her swollen belly showed through her dark cloak.”


“‘You’ve killed mothers’ children before, haven’t ye?’ she continued. ‘Go on, do it!’ Did she see my melting resolve? Could she detect the doubt in my face? She began to shriek her hideous laughter, bearing crooked, yellow teeth. ‘Do it!’ she shrieked. I swung my glaive.”


“What I had to do that day should have made me a monster; the cries I endured as I set about my task will haunt me to this day. And I shall spare you, dear reader, with many a gruesome detail.”


“I burned down the whole village, and set fire to the surrounding forest; the flames would spread for miles and last for days. Everywhere were trees ridden with sleeping gnarlends. By the grace of Diadel, goddess of sky, I was able to blot out the horrors of the Foley Knoll and live another day.”

“But the facts remain: I returned to Liven with a cart that carried six healthy, yet premature infants, and but those six, I left not a single soul alive at Foley Knoll. It is my sincere prayer that the lives I saved do not bear the curses of their ancestors.”

“In ancient days, forest tribes held gods too numerous to mention, varying from tribe to tribe. A single tree in a single forest may be three different gods to three different tribes, and with little to no written history among them all, there was no structure to their beliefs. Some embraced this, holding a sort of spiritual animism as their truth.”


“When men civilized themselves, shedding huts and furs for stone villages and linens, a common pantheon was codified: what is known now as the Old Gods. The Old Pantheon contained 12 gods, typically: Diadel, goddess of sky, Azredak, god of bloodletting, Oema, god of the harvest, Pyrabella, goddess of fertility, Numen, god of dark things, Grull, god of forest creatures, Imrios, god of the sea, Ellenestria, goddess of luck, Oporos, god of health, Murlik, god of the dream world, Tartilia, goddess of the dead world, and Devara, goddess of light.”


“In most circles, Devara was esteemed as the mother of all gods, commanding the greatest shines and the most devoted clerics. In time, the lesser gods of the Old Pantheon fell in stature, and the vast majority of codified Old Pantheon worship simply fell under the umbrella known as Devara's Light.”


“The New Gods, also known as The Three, emerged through monarchy and dynasty. Devara's made equal with that of two new deities drawn from Askarian royalty: The King and The Knight, divine incarnations of Askarian men. King Ericho the Austere and Sir Amar the proper are credited with uniting all of Askaria, a decades long conquest that began under King Ericho's father, King Relon the Bear.”


“Askaria's successful campaigns of war and conquest led to The Three becoming the most universally held gods, though forest tribes in the eastern continent are known to still hold the ancient tribal gods, which now fell under the monicker of Stone Roots. The old gods remained popular in the southern continent, as well as in smaller nations, like Taenbir to the north and Kadania to the west.”


“Markdor, the mountainous nation in the western side of the northern continent, held its own pantheon, but its rulers became increasingly antagonistic toward the petty squabbling and state-sanctioned proseltyzing of the men of gods. Perhaps in response to Askaria's conquest for The Three, the Dorian Council of Steel declared the will of man to be greater than gods, and uniquely worthy of worship. Ironically, this move led to its own codified system of faith and worship, with its own schools, clerics, tomes and songs, all dedicated to extolling the will of man.”


“During The Three's rise in popularity, mages and arcanists from Askaria and Liven began establishing a science around the art of channeling the elements of Fire and Sky, eventually forming the Citadel, a stone tower deep in the woods of Liven.”


“Elementally attuned individuals would make pilgrimages to the Citadel of Fire and Sky. A pilgrim to the Citadel would begin his study as an acolyte, devoting decades of study and discipline toward learning, mastering, and researching.”

“Disciples of Fire and Sky can't be said to hold gods, new or old, as they restrict their study in the supernatural to experiments in spellcraft that can be documented and duplicated. Healers of Fire and Sky, ever important in a tower fraught with flame-slinging acolytes, do call on some divinity to mend and heal, but they attribute this to a celestial element that must exist between Fire and Sky.”


“The realm has some smaller cults and sects of some import. Sects of the old gods, for instance, often add or subtract from their accepted pantheons as tradition allows, and hold more reverence for gods other than Devara. One such sect shed the entire original Old Pantheon to favor two nontraditional gods, Gilbael, god of wine, and Axigal, god of visions, eventually known simply as The Fool and The Prophet.”

“In Remetia, to the north of Askaria, in the third year since the ratification of the Great Unification Decree, a council of clerics and paladins of Devara was held in secret to determine the best course of action to take against the increasing pressure from the Askarian crown.”


“The small city of Remetia had been long loyal to the creed of Devara and the old gods. In Remetia, the Great Unification Decree was viewed as nothing more than an attempt to usurp the faith and loyalty of Askaria’s subjects.”


“Word had reached Remetia that an envoy of Askarian nobles, accompanied by at least three score of armored guardsmen, pikemen, and arbalesters, would soon be approaching the small city. The city’s holy warriors numbered 29 battle-ready paladins and 33 clerics.”


“The goal of the envoy was known: they would rededicate places of worship in Remetia to The Three, relocate images and shrines of Devara to pre-approved locations in the city’s periphery, and disarm any paladins of Devara who did not wish to take the oath of the new gods.”


“And so the council of clerics and paladins of Devara discussed their options. Kneeling to the Askarian crown was out of the question. Fighting the envoy could doom the city.”


“But Liven to the north had resisted the Askarian Great Unification Decree, so it was decided: those loyal to Devara – paladins, clerics, and peasants – would embark on a pilgrimage to Liven.”


“The lord of Remetia had already kneeled to the Askarian crown, and his guardsman were loyal to King Ericho IV, descendant of Ericho the Austere, as well. The Pilgrimage of those loyal to Devara would have to occur in secret.”


“Remetians loyal to Devara spread news of the Pilgrimage in secret. One would use his foot to make an arc in the sand. If the other was loyal, he would likewise make an arc, completing the circle, the sign of the sun, the greatest source of light. And so news of the pilgrimage spread.”


“Three nights after the council, those loyal to Devara assembled in the night to make pilgrimage to Liven in secret. Among them were 29 paladins, 33 clerics, 716 peasants, and two nobles, now stripped of title: former Baron Erodan of Sylven and former Baroness Emiella of Orange.”


“With supplies and stocks for 7 days’ journey accounted for, the group vanished into the moonlit night. They had embarked on what would be known as the Pencen Pilgrimage.”


“Mina was a Birian paladin in the lead of the pack of nearly 800 men, women and children that would be known as the Pencen Pilgrimage. Flanked by the cleric Doramin Tolls, her close friend, she had marched for a night and half a day north through the forests that spanned the unclaimed land between Liven and Remetia.”

“She was hot under her heavy mail and thick surcoat, and the shade didn’t seem to do enough to stifle the hot summer sun, but her training had given her the discipline [to] endure far worse. Doramin Tolls was not hiding his discomfort quite as easily.”


“Wiping sweat from his brow, he smiled at Mina. ‘We’ll make camp at sundown, yeah?’ he asked. ‘We’ll have to,’ she replied. ‘The peasantry are on their last legs. But the more distance we can make, the better.’ Doramin nodded.”


“The sun would set soon, and Mina and Doramin, leading the pack, would have to scout out a perimeter to accommodate a camp of nearly 800 people. Doramin whistled a signal to the paladins further down the line, then they both set off into the woods.”


“The woods between Liven and Remetia were filled with dangerous beasts and
marauding tribes, but Mina was more concerned with Askarian scouts.”


“They had broken no laws by setting out in pilgrimage, but the cruel King Ericho IV, whom they mockingly called Ericho the Envy-Ridden, would not think twice of slaughtering the lot of them from spite.”


“Passing around a rocky ledge, Mina first heard footsteps, then the crisp sound of plate. It was as she feared: Askarian scouts were pursuing them. But how many? And to what end? She signaled to Doramin, and both froze in their tracks. And what she spied ahead chilled her to the bone.”


“Beyond the rocky ledge were four knights of the Askarian elite combat squadron: the Night Raiders. They each wore a black cloak over heavy plate and wielded a sharpened spatha. On each of their backs was a silver shield bearing the crest of the new gods.”


“The two stood motionless behind the rocky ledge. Mina’s face burned with fury, and Doramin’s eyes pleaded that she stay still. They were outnumbered and outmatched. But the righteous fire of a paladin is a difficult thing to quench. Mina charged.”


“It was four to two, and Doramin was no match for an armored knight, but Mina had the divine light of Devara at her back. She charged shield-first into the first Night Raider, sending him stumbling off balance, his blade falling to the side.”


“She put her full weight into driving her spiked mace into the Night Raider’s face. It connected with a sick crunch of metal and bone, lodging itself in the eye slits of the Night Raider’s helm.”


“Whispering words of faith, Mina felt a piece as Devara’s divine light filled her weapon until it reached a hotly glowing crescendo, turning the Night Raider’s helm into a scene of carnage that far too closely resembled a kicked pot of burnt tomato soup.”


“‘He died for a false god,’ she said angrily, unflinchingly. Her composure was more ironclad than the knight whose head she had just reduced to red paste. ‘Doramin, Armor.’ The cleric spoke words of faith, and Mina’s paladin’s plate began to glow.”


“The first Night Raider reached her before the other two, but he’d mistimed his approach. Her glowing spiked mace, blessed with Devara’s eternal fury, crashed across his left temple, sending him sprawling into the leaves, a trickle of blood falling from his deeply dented helmet.”


“The next two were more careful, attempting to flank Mina, but it was now a matched fight, and Mina had already dispatched two of them. She retreated, deftly raising her shield to deflect blows from the two assailants, waiting for an opening.”


“The blades of the Night Raiders pounded at her shield, slashed at her surcoat, dented on her mail and plate, cut through her leather. But the protection of Devara held, making scrapes and bruises of what would have been deep cuts and broken bones.”


“At last, a Night Raider overreached, giving her just enough room to maneuver. She slammed her mace, glowing with divine vengeance, down on his outstretched sword arm. He fell back in a shower of sparks, grunting with the blow, then wailing in surprise. His couter was crushed, his vambrace-clad forearm bent the wrong way from his elbow at nearly a right angle.”


“Mina swung her mace backhanded toward the iron helm of the last Night Raider standing, but he shifted to bring up his abomination-crested shield, deflecting her blow in a furious shower of sparks, using the momentum to thrust his own blade through her chest.”


“To his astonishment, she stood her ground, and though impaled through the chest, she fought with the rage of a thousand spurred old gods, hammering at his helm, then at what was left of his helm, until the ironclad knight’s head was nothing more than a smoking bowl of pulp.”


“The last Night Raider, elbow crushed to splinters within ruined plate couter, charged Mina, spatha in hand. But he had not practiced offhand combat, and his blade pathetically bounced off of Mina’s left pauldron.”


“Mina swung her mace at the crippled knight as he pitched past her, connecting with the back of his helm. He fell limply forward, collapsing in the leaves.”


“The light left Mina’s mace. She fell to a knee and coughed a fine cloud of blood. ‘Take the blade,’ she croaked to Doramin who had dumbly watched the skirmish unfold.”

“Speaking words of faith, Doramin braced his foot against Mina’s pauldron. A warm light descended upon the two. ‘Now,’ she wheezed.”


“He pulled with all of his might, and the blade wrest free of her chest. The wound sprayed blood for the barest moment, and then it was gone. Mina sucked in air.”

“Doramin Tolls moved to help the paladin to her feet, but she stood of her own strength before he knew it, as if a blade had not just pierced and been pulled from her lung mere moments ago. ‘Armor will need repair,’ she said quietly. The rest may have been in danger still.”


“Quickly, they moved back toward the main path. If Night Raiders were in this part of the woods, they were probably on the hunt elsewhere as well.”


“Mina and Doramin returned to the path to find the group in disarray. Men, women and children were running north, faces masks of fear, with some worried looking paladins and clerics among them, while other paladins and clerics hurriedly headed toward a crowd that was forming to the south. In the crowd were banners of the new gods. Mina and Doramin ran toward the banners.”


“Their worst fears had been realized. An envoy of Askarian foot soldiers had rounded up dozens of peasants. The periphery of the crowd was littered with the arrow-ridden bodies of those who had fled, and ranks of arbalesters kept close watch on any who might have had the same idea.”


“The remaining paladins formed a protective shield around the clerics, separated from the peasantry by rows of footsoldiers, threated by arbalesters. From behind the Askarian ranks, a mounted noble approached. ‘This has gone long enough,’ he said in common, voice full of sneering contempt.”


“The Askarian noble sat straight in his saddle, clad in shimmering gold-trimmed plate, a smirking picture of smugness. ‘We’ve come to collect in the name of King Ericho IV, descendant of the true king.’ An aged cleric emerged from the paladin phalanx. Mina knew the woman simply as Bel. ‘Collect what?’ Bel demanded.”

“The noble cleared his throat. ‘It has been ordered by King Ericho IV, heir of the Askarian crown, descendant of the true-‘ Bel cut him off. ‘Get on with it, boy.’”

“For a moment, the noble’s face registered shock. But the privileged pomp of an Askarian noble quickly crept back over it. ‘We require the two nobles among you,’ he declared. ‘and your steel.’”


“From the crowd, Erodan of Sylven and Emiella of Orange looked up in astonishment. The crown had already stripped them of their titles when they refused to kneel to the new gods. But before they could react, Bel responded. ‘Out of the question,’ she said.”


“Bel calmly strode toward the mounted noble, through the line of confused guards. She was a woman of nearly 80, gray and bowed with age, and the Askarian troops looked to their captain, who in turn looked to the noble. His expression was one of frozen fear. Should he have beheaded her for insubordination? Grannyslayer, they’d call him. Cowed by Crones.”


“‘All followers of the true goddess are free to follow her,’ she said. Her eyes rolled back in her head. She continued toward the noble.”


“’All followers-‘ she started, but in that moment an arbalest arrow streaked through the air, piercing her in her back. Two more followed, striking next to the first. She fell to the ground.”


“‘The flame absolves you,’ she croaked. In a flash, a brilliant column of light erupted from where she fell, extending endlessly into the clouds, expanding in heat and light and thunderous sound. Bodies, arbalests, swords, shields, helm and debris were sent scattering from the blast.”


“Mina lowered her shield. The fire had vanished, and the dust was clearing. The body of Bel lay motionless in the center of the scene, unscathed, except for the bolts in her back. A starburst of ash, debris, and charred, still bodies, footmen and peasants alike, extended out from where she lay.”


“Mina charged the remaining opposition, flanked by her fellow warriors of Devara. Most of the arbalesters had already loosed their bolts in the confusion and were now struggling to reload their weapons, and to a man they were mercilessly crushed under the paladins’ spiked maces.”


“Other paladins and clerics had engaged the remaining Askarian footmen, pitting mace against sword, old gods against new. Mina’s mace crashed through helm after helm as the battlefield around her exploded with the clerics’ glowing flashes of divine light.”


“The last Askarian fell to a crushing blow from Wen, a heavily scarred, black-bearded paladin. The others began to survey the scene. Mina gasped: some of the peasants that had been knocked prone by the blast had begun to stir.”


“Wiping dust and ash from their brows, one by one the peasants began to rise. Devara had shielded her followers from the blinding column of divine vengeance, and the worst any of them suffered were some bruised bottoms and singed beards.”


“But Bel would return to the sea. Her aged body riddled with arrows, she was taken by Devara before anyone could reach her. Perhaps she spent the last of her will saving the pilgrims.”


“They said rites and buried all the bodies: friend and foe alike. Aside from Bel, 4 paladins, 7 clerics, and 24 peasants had been wounded too gravely to heal. Their foes’ bodies numbered far more, but the Pencen Pilgrimage’s numbers of fighters was quickly dwindling, while the Askarian army was virtually limitless.”


“Shaken, but not broken, the pilgrimage resumed. They reached the Askaria-Liven border in two more days’ march, where a Liveni scout regiment was able to provide them safe passage to Liven.”


“The Pencen Pilgrimage was over, but the war was not. Mina and Doramin, along with every last battle-ready paladin and cleric from the pilgrimage, pledged fealty to the Queen of Liven, taking up the Queen’s crest: a tree growing from an earthen vessel.”

“Poisoning is an art form as old as war, and the effective use of poison is as much a mastered skill as the sword, buckler, or arbalest.”


“Use of poison is controversial to some, but the makers of this guide take a stance opposed to poison used in secret (through food and drink), and obviously in favor of poison used in combat.”


“Poison in combat is typically delivered either through wounds, which is most typical, or through breath, which is typically more complex.”


“Poison delivered through wounds is a bit simple, and the actual poisons used are usually the same tried and true poisons used in food and drink. Thus the rhyme: deadly when consumed means deadly in a wound!”


“There are many types of poison that are effective when delivered to a wound. The most popular is Pessmud, a tar-like sap harvested from Kadanian tarvine.”


“Rarer poisons delivered through wounds, like Frostgel from Liven or Spidersting from Kar’hi carry more exotic properties, but also fetch a much higher price.”


“Pessmud is simple, effective, and cheap, and for that reason, the examples in this book will primarily revolve around the proper use and application of Pessmud.”


“Applying Pessmud to the blade can be as simple as coating it with the stuff: Pessmud is sticky and thick enough that it can be effective for quite a few swings following a single proper application.”


“Weapons can even be carved from Kadanian tarvine, the tropical liana from which Pessmud is harvested. Tarvine weapons are permanently poisonous by nature, but the user must mind he properly wraps the hilt, lest a nick or scrape in his hand causes his weapon to turn against him.”

“Arrows and bolts can remain poisoned for day s. By wrapping the base of the weapons’ sharpened tips in Pessmud-soaked rags, an archer may always keep his quiver full of highly poisonous arrows and bolts.”


“Poison delivered through breath is quite complex, requiring skilled alchemy or arcane elementalism.”


“Powdered Kadanian tarvine can be combined with the dried flesh of a Cytoplasm to rapidly expel foul vapors, but doing so is extremely dangerous to the alchemist producing the compound.”


“The product, known as Brownvapor, can be produced only through careful mixing, bottling and corking by a master alchemist.”


“Perhaps the most malicious aspect of Brownvapor bottling is the byproduct: shattering a Brownvapor flask not only produces a cloud of tarvine-tinged gas, but the rapid vortex of expanding and contracting gasses is able to revitalize the dried Cytoplasm flesh, producing a living, horrible Poison Cytoplasm.”


“Brownvapor has also been seen clouding from Bloated Monstrosities, monstrous necrotic forest thralls that are known to consume both tarvine and Cytoplasms.”

“High upon a silver tow'r

Above the blighted trees

The legacy of Vel Karam

Dwel't in mystery.

Vel Karam was spoken of

In tones of quiet fear.

The tongues would change from town to town

The details never clear.

Said to be a mighty witch

Or sometimes called a Kraekan.

Necromancer, demoness

Or that which man can't fathom

That Vel Karam became a tale

Had muddied history.

But men who told the tale agreed

She was born of the sea.

And when she travel'd to your town

Your harvest would be bless'd.

And not a copper would she take

She'd ask only for rest...

So your town would welcome her,

An oracle of light.

But once their trust and hearts she had,

She'd vanish in the night.

And when she'd been gone 13 days

A gray mist would come down,

And tragedy and misery

Would wash over the town.

T'wasn't drought or failing crops

Amidst the silver mist.

But children maim'd but left alive

With limbs cleav'd at the wrist.

The childrens' wounds were not of blade

But of a magic dark.

Stich'd and heal'd and clean of blood

By witchcraft they were marr'd.

So villages from near and far

Grew in distant shade.

Generations bore the mark

That Vel Karam had made.

Smiths and merchants, farmers too

And the vestment-clad,

Lived full lives dismember'd still:

Shades of Vel Karam.

Decades pass'd, the fable grew

But somehow she walk'd freely.

Guileless towns welcomed her still

So doomed to misery.

In one town a hero grew

Not knowing his full fate.

He'd practice parry, thrust, riposte

While not at hoe and spade.

The hero's name Eggari

Of Nort Hamero clan.

He bore the evil witch's work

Eggari's missing hand.

The bitterness had curs'd him not,

He dwel't not in the past.

He'd not be victim to the crone

Her legacy so ghastly.

And young Eggari practiced well

And grew into a man:

A swordsman fierce, a dueler,

Despite his missing hand.

A day into his nineteenth year

Eggari did embark.

In mail, with sword, pack supplies,

He march'd into the dark.

His journey took him through the woods

Through valleys so abyssal.

The nights were fraught with dreadful sounds

The days were not less dismal.

A crossbow that Eggari built

He used in hunting game,

And mushrooms, wild berries, roots

He gather'd to sustain him.

A fortnight though the woods of pitch

He came upon a clearing.

In the distance rose the spire

He knew what he was nearing.

But not a moment had gone by

When arrow struck his back.

A shout, another, from the trees!

An ambush! An attack!

Drawing steel with fencing hand

Eggari faced the threat.

The one-arm'd hero scann'd the trees

The brigands number'd 10.

Arrows flew from every side

But wither'd at his mail.

And he became a whirlwind

Of blades; a bloody gale.

Eggari slashed the throat of one,

Another he impaled.

Opening a third and fourth

The ground grew wet with red.

Dodging dirk and wooden club,

He hewed and hacked and sliced.

An ear, a nose, an arm, a leg

A hand still clutching knife!

The routed brigands fled in turn

Their number now just two.

Eggari's bow was swifter still

The bolts he loosed flew true.

Bloodied, but yet resolute,

And under light of moon,

He tended scrapes and minor wounds

His journey could resume.

3 days of marching again

The spire loomed ahead.

Eggari knew just what it was:

That wicked witch's stead.

The spire's gate was mir'd in thorns,

Twisted and entangled.

Eggari hacked at branch and thistle

Hot with righteous anger.

Cold damp stone, overgrown,

Smear'd in ancient grime.

Eggari set foot on the stair

And steadily he climbed.

The staircase ended 'neath the sky:

The ruins of Vel Karam.

Eggari came upon a door

Wreath'd in sever'd hands.

They showed no signs of age or rot

But twitched with life arcane.

Tristini, Kadanian

Present all the same.

Reaching for the door handle

Eggari turned it easily.

Those sever'd hands, yet wreathed in twine

Reach'd at his, but feebly.

Creeping into room beyond

A place so black and morbid.

Eggari witnessed such a sight

He had seen naught so horrid.

Baskets lined the floor below

And twine was strung in banners.

Piled in baskets, strung in twine

Were scores of sever'd hands.

They twitched and squirmed, touched and grasped

And were they trying to cry?

The crone had not just stolen flesh

She'd taken bits of life.

In the corner, shrouded, hunched,

Rocking in a chair.

Was it she? Vel Karam?

Simply sitting there?

'Witch, I've come to banish thee to

Th'icy realm below.'

He raised his sword, but faltered when

A creaky voice said 'No.'

He brought his blade down viciously

Upon the ragged mass

It fell from chair, a pile of bones

And from behind: a laugh.

And there she stood, all veil'd in dark

With skin all ghostly white,

A maiden young, with silver hair

And garments weav'd of sky.

'You've journeyed far, my handsome knight

But now is time to rest.

Come, my child, and lay your weary

Head upon my breast.'

But Eggari would not be thralled

By guile or charm or trick.

Bold and steeled, he plunged his blade

Into the witch's neck.

Her magick was so powerful,

But here it gave no aid.

Her lifeblood spilled from gaping wound

And her strength gave way.

Her skin, at first so young and fresh,

Aged before his eyes.

Fast decrepid, wrinkled, gray,

Leaking wicked life.

'Look at you, you utter fool,'

She croaked to Eggari.

'You've doom'd them all, the childes I took:

Our threads of life were linked.'

Eggari coiled back in fear,

Surveilling what he'd wrought.

The hands were quickly growing foul,

Surrendering to rot.

The stench became unbearable,

He left that charnel place.

Returning from the Citadel,

He found his home in waste.

Those who has lost bits of them,

To evil Vel Karam,

Had suddenly began to rot,

From whence they lost their hands.

The rotted stumps were spreading quick

And took most unaware,

A lucky few took blade to flesh;

Those lucky few were spared.

The rest were taken by the rot,

A blight so fiercly spreading,

Their minds, decayed and blind with rage,

Knew naught but hunger pangs.

And so the blighted plagued the land,

Devouring living men,

Spreading rot that eats the soul,

Heralding the end.

And Eggari, the one-armed Knight,

The usher of the damned.

He spent his days atoning, purging

Childes of Vel Karam.

And when he'd slaughtered every ghoul,

Down to the last man,

The living folk did tell the tale:

The Tale of Vel Karam”

Not all the tales included in the skill tree form complete narratives, but are instead disjointed fragments, or teasers.

Amongst these can be found: Annals of Grimsen, The Codex Malifinent, The Holy Text, Mierdre's Black Book, The Oriesian, The Smith's Apprentice, And Titching Codex.

“Having reached accord, the 16 knights of no banner were ready to embark
on their quest. But first, a symbolic gesture would occur.”


“They carried with them provisions for 30 days’ travel, 18 poultices of mending, and other linens and salves as recommended by Zenia the Healer.”


“Second was Kesh Graydaughter, the Bloody Blade. She wielded the taichi, an exotic weapon from the south.”


“Third was Kert, son of Kerman. He cherished little more than his hefty Kureimoa, which he named Slaughtersong.”


“Fourth was Garkil, the Relentless. He lacked skill at dueling, but true to his name, he excelled at skilllessly battering his foes into submission.”


“Suddenly, Ardiana gasped. In the woods, in the flicker of campfire, there were faces. A dozen faces. More. A hundred. The woods were alive, and they were not pleased.”


“Kert swung his hefty Slaughtersong at the ghastly creature, cleaving it from shoulder to gut.”


“Kesh Graydaughter slashed at the revenant. Her taichi carved through the monster’s leathery flesh one, two, three times, filling the air with clouds of ancient, putrid dust.”


“The sky above the Citadel had become a dark, unnatural purple. Clouds shrouded the structure, intermittently illuminated by glows from the top.”


“It rose before them, like some grim obelisk. The 16 knights of no banner were now only 7, but each man’s resolve had grown only stronger. The citadel would fall, and with it, the dark arcana it harbored.”


“Their party was now 4: Grimsen, Planne, Kesh, and Kert. But the end was in sight. The Citadel! They bolted up the stairs.”


“Held by dark magic, Grimsen could only watch as Planne charged the faceless mage. The room exploded in fire and blood, and then Grimsen saw nothing.”


[Transcriber's notes :: Planne is an -extremely- uncommon name, and may in fact be a reference to the character Planne The Seeker. Given Planne acquired the sword 'Shikeimaru' he would have fit in with the company of swordsman. Is this how Planne died, and his weapons ended up on the island?]

“Green, green, so the Sky of Bog. So fervid the allure, such a turgid, whirly world."


“Sky of Bog, eye of dog, quaff a crimson pie.”

Defernamany

“Vaskal’s shield was wrought of Dorian metal and decorated with a glittering crest.”
Defernamany 1:16


“Vaskal was strong as well, strong as any man of the Ironforged Guard.”
Defernamany 1:17


“Blessed with the memories of a thousand noble warriors, Vaskal’s shield became his iron warden.”
Defernamany 13:4


“Vaskal alone was the only man capable of wielding such a shield. It easily weighed more than a man, yet he wielded it with ease.”
Defernamany 13:5


“Flaming arrows arced like lightning through the forest, but he was quicker, and his shield shone brighter.”
Defernamany 45:6


“Though arrows and blades had pierced his flesh, a quick quaff of the flask given him by the old crone game him strength anew.”
Defernamany 62:3

“His task complete, he was laid to rest, his body shrouded by his glorious shield. They would sing of his heroics, but today, they mourned his passing.”
Defernamany 70:7


Yu’larandra

“Quick as a flash, she loosed an arrow, and the feral wolf fell, limp as a
toppled target dummy.”
Yu’larandra 2:12


“The beast had left her with wounds, and some were not shallow. But she crushed red grass in her mouth, filling her wounds with some, and consuming the rest. Healing from within, healing from without.”
Yu’larandra 2:17-18


“The brigand camp was noisy, and the air was smoky. Her arrows were silent, swift, and sharp as razors.”
Yu’larandra 4:101


“The elder clanmaster spoke to Yu’larandra: ‘you have proven yourself, now you must take a husband.’ But Yu’larandra would not, for she was wed to her bow.”
Yu’larandra 5:7


“She kept watch over the camp for 31 days. Her sustenance was game: rabbit, squirrel, and deer. She made no fires, eating her game as the animals do.”
Yu’larandra 13:222


“Like vermin they emerged from hole, hill, and thicket. And her bow felled them, to a man. Her kin, she felled them.”
Yu’larandra 20:12


Malthis

“The worth of mankind is the salt on his brow for it is the essence of his life.”
Malthis 4:17


“Caldacus Sea, once vibrant with the spark of Salt grew dim and became known as the Immrian Sea.”
Malthis 9:36


“Gilfoy, the Wall of Steel, may have once cleaved through a hundred men, but Malthis’ finesse with the dagger was unparalleled, and it surely found its home between sections of Gilfoy’s heavy plate, in the pit of his arm.”
Malthis 16:2


Carvan

“And pilgrims traveled to the holy sites, their packs illuminating their way through the night.”
Carvan 3:17


“This world is one of beasts, and of spirits, and of man. And of all of these, the will of man is the greatest.”
Carvan 9:4


“The will of man is like a stream flowing with water.”
Carvan 9:7


“Her wisdom and justice brought wealth to the land and the queen’s treasury became full.”
Carvan 11:13


“And the day may come again, when gold is like stones, but salt is the most precious of all things.”
Carvan 19:2

“A brute wields shields. An elegant shadow relies only on his quickness, rolling and tumbling to evade the clumsy attacks of his assailant.”


“Evasion and parrying both require expert timing, but the diligent shadow possesses this.”


“When blade meets crossbow, a well-equipped shadow becomes a well-rounded tool in the trade of death.”


“A graceful shadow takes to the air to loose crossbow bolts at an attacking assailant. The graceful shadow times his attack perfectly, staggering his foolish foe."


“The tenacious shadow must be able to remain hidden in water for great periods of time. A breathing apparatus may be made using hollow reeds.”


“The diligent shadow shall become skilled at climbing. The practice of the diligent shadow is as follows: without aid of feet, grasp a sturdy branch, pull oneself up until one’s chin crests the branch, repeat twenty times.”


“The diligent shadow must be swift. Practice at footing using stepping blocks: drive at least 10 logs no wider than 6 inches into the earth vertically, no nearer together than 3 feet. Practice swordplay, dashing, and stealth atop these blocks.”


“The tenacious shadow must attack without relenting. An alerted foe will always wither beneath the tenacious shadow’s hail of arrows.”


“A dagger is the most effective of [weapons]. If an attacker stabs, slashes, or strikes, a diligent shadow [may] parry with dagger.”


“The diligent shadow plunges her dagger beneath the ear, forcefully pulling across the throat to the other ear, showing a great mercy.”


“A blade may likewise be plunged into the body. The ideal location is beneath the armpit, between the third and fourth rib. The victim must not be corpulent, as this may diminish the reach of the blade.”

“The Dorian ambush party gave everyman among them the choice: death or slavery. Ox’fal’s heart longed for death, but choosing slaving gave him a third option: revenge.”


“Kuara had been at work in the mines much longer than Ox’fal, and she saw the fire in his hear immediately. Spirits were quickly crushed here, but his burned unnaturally bright.”


“’Lift with your legs,’ chided Kuara. ‘You need a strong back, not a broken one.’”


“They were naught but pure focus. Blistered hands and aching muscles became light as feathers and smoke as Ox’fal centered his mind on the three hearts: the Tornado, the Arrox, and the Flame.”


“The guards, full of fear, reached for their spathas. But Ox’fal, channeling the heart of his namesake, the Arrox, charged their post, maul in hand. Channeling the heart of the Tornado, he whirled fiercely, crushing the face of the closest guard such that his eyes were forced from his skull.”


“Ox’fal’s army finally crested Redstone Ridge. The encampment that came into view below them was exactly what he feared: dozens of tents and campfires, hundreds of troops, and the Dorian standard. But Ox’fal had something greater: the Heart of Fire.”

“Jakeb had been an energetic youth, and the trade of smithing gave him a proper outlet to work, craft, and learn.”


“All his tools were laid out before him: his tongs, chisels, punches, hammers, and bits.”


“’More nails again today?’ he asked. ‘Not today, son. A new order came in, swords. War is coming. Let’s get to work.’”


“’I’ll need good metal to make a piece like that,’ he said. ‘Dorian steel, nothing less."

“The flame’s heat had dwindled, but that’s what bellows were for. He deftly sent a few blasts of air into the fire, bracing for the satisfying roar of heat that would return."


“Jakeb set about measuring Leonworth. The armor was perfectly articulate to match its owner, from shoulder to ankle and every finger and toe between.”


“In the rainy darkness, Jakeb could tell the huddled figure was a man, and that man was gravely wounded. He hurried forward, still mindful of his surroundings, only to discover that the victim was someone he recognized: the knight, Leonworth!”


“’Deliver this to Cloudencasse,’ he said, handing Jakeb a piece of parchment. Jakeb nodded, though he could not make out what was written on the parchment."


“He ran as fast as he could back to the smithy. He was excited and terrified all at once. Could a boy of his station really be of use to a knight?”


“He ran without stopping, down the hill, past the hanging tree, over the soggy gulch, through the great wooden gate. He arrived sopping wet, brimming with excitement and resolve.”


“The armor was heavy, but Jakeb was not only stout and lean from days of smithing, but his trade had given him priceless experience at deftly donning and wearing plate."


“Ironclad and bearing sword and shield, Jakeb set out to the East, to adventure. The dying knight’s wishes would be honored.”

“The arcana, codified by the Elders of Fire and Sky, detail the methods and practice of the formidable wielder of the supernatural.”


“The actual conjuration of magic is split into two categories, defined by their methods of conjuration: spells and incantations.”


“A spell differs from and incantation in that it requires not only the spoken word, but a physical conduit to shape the powers drawn from fire and sky.”


“Channeling the energy held in the ethereal fabric of Fire and Sky into a conduit is a technique requiring masterful attunement, not unlike reaching in a direction other than up, down, left, right, in, or out.”


“A conduit has the following properties: it must adhere to the shape of a rod, it must be longer than an arm length, and it must be made of or weaved in magically attuned material.”


“Magic attuned material is material that lies partially within the ethereal fabric, such as saltwood, or the remains of a magical creature.”


“Channeling Fire and Sky through a physical conduit has one alarming side effect: elemental imbalance. Fire and Sky are like two sides of an intangible dimension, and attuning oneself too heavily in one direction or the other can be dangerous, even fatal."


“While trinkets and charms can reduce the effects of elemental imbalance, master mages actually embrace the dangerous effect, using it to amplify the power of their spells and incantations.”


“A one-handed conduit can be more difficult to master, but frees a hand of the wielder."


“Of course, wielding one conduit in each hand could never work: a verbal spell command cannot be conjured through more than one conduit.”


“The skilled duel wielder uses blade and wand in combat, distracting foes with blade, to make vulnerable to elemental attack fro the duel wielder’s conduit.”


“The challenge of duel wielding lies in the feat of the mind: the duel wielder must skillfully interact simultaneously with the physical and the ethereal.”


“An incantation requires only the spoken word to be conjured, provided the conjurer possesses the proper elemental link to the ethereal fabric of fire and sky.”


“Incantations require complex focus of both mind and body: the fabric of Fire and Sky is more difficult to grasp with no conduit, but the highly attuned mage can feel its threads in all things.”

Whilst this originally was me plunking through and manually inscribing everything from the skill tree (and thus hating life), a compiled version of the various stories is located in 'The Drowned Tome', a detailed and well made analysis of the world of Salt & Sanctuary by a 'ASUKO_XIII'. who in turn credits /u/The_Antlion for jotting down Panthonus, the Tale of Vel Karam, and the Cat King..

While I've manually transcribed The Crimson Quell + Chauncy's medecine- for the sake of expediency, further credit can be tossed to these folks for providing a legible source of information.

For those interested in reading the Drowned Tome, it can be found :: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B_cJ_GxvoB1qVVBhUWM0bFFlcUE/view

https://www.reddit.com/r/saltandsanctuary/comments/4g8o47/the_drowned_tome_a_salt_and_sanctuary_lore/ Originating from this thread.

Happy reading, fellow travelers.

#Finally Done