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A COMPLETE TRAVELER'S GUIDE TO THE REALMS OF THE ELYRIAN ISLAND, ELRICH, OLTONIA, EMPRIA, DOLTON, GRANDIA CITY, SUVIA, CAYLE ISLAND, and GRAMENIA ABRIDGED EDITION II


OLTONIA(Parody of the Ottoman Empire)

A diverse and apparently highly bureaucratic warrior race

People

The Oltonian caste system is divided into four broad categories categories, with many countless ranks within them. Every member of the society is slowly moving up the social ladder, while those at the top are cast to the pits of poverty once they reach ultimate power. The Oltonian warrior caste, who conquered the land and all of the peoples who lived there, now have bottom-middle placement in their own society.

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Places

Culture

Due to the rigid structure of the Oltonian social hierarchy, utmost attention is placed on accurate record keeping and family trees. Because of this, there is an extremely high literacy rate among

History

Many years ago, they sailed to the shores from the eastern seas, and conquered the city states which had dwelled there. By doing so, they were able to acquire an extensive empire. Butting up against an existing powerful civilization, Empria, they are known for their aggression and for a large diversity in their subjects. They organize themselves in a method known as the Niedermeyer's Hierarchy, a strict caste system applied universally. The castes are moved up one degree every 11 weeks, so that no one set of peoples hold the leadership and power for too long. It is known that their mounted tandem riders are very fierce in battle.

Did Ya Know?

Oltonian currency is


Under a rock-heavy sea, beneath the ocean sun, there is an island nation like no other. The one and only Kingdom of Cayle, named for the first royal family to rule its shores. Only accessible by boat, it takes a seaman of great skill to access this isolated domain. But, the difficulty in navigating the salty seas and rocky shores is well worth it, for the kingdom is one with a wonderful history and interesting customs.

One of the most curious rituals is the famed "Pineapple Manhood Rituals of Majestic Uprising." It is how boys are symbolically upgraded to the status of men, and allowed to journey to all corners of the land they inhabit.


Before, I was free. I left this place and found something new, something outside where we could be safe, and live the life we deserved. It was cold, and hard, but we were living our own lives. But we stayed close.

I always knew they were watching. Those swollen red eyes, always swiveling, turning, and stretching, quietly watching us from afar. There were the mountains and coral, and the dim sease between us and them, of course, but I knew that didn't mean anything. It could see through, watching what was done, when it was done, watching me all the time.

You can't imagine how it felt to never have the comfort of privacy. It didn't matter how far I went or how long I was gone, I always had to come back to the eyes. They studied me, trying to find a way to take me.

I remember the first day they got out, through a crack. They were all over scuttling through the crack until all of them were free. All I could so was hide, and watch as they swam through the kelpy forests.

Things went on like that for quite a while. Years and decades strolled by, with them out there and me in here. Both them and I knew it was only a matter of time before we had to meet. I didn't know what they wanted then, and I always thought it would be something that would leave me dead.

Wish I'd been right.

Things had changed by the time the thing happened. Most of the school I was with had gone off to be at other emerging spawns, and most of the strobger seers had been moved out. Felt like it was just me and them. They saw me through.

I tried to get away, but it just pulled me in closer. Like a sinking ship, it always goes and takes you back in with it. You can't struggle, or grab, because you're gone before you know it.

They keep me under the bones now. But that's okay. At least I can still see my old friends. But that's it. All watching. I guess all they wanted in the end was someone to be with them. Someone who knew what it was like to see.


Stargazing as an art and science has fallen out of favor in recent years. Maybe because there isn't much to see besides the low hanging stars and the blackness, but I respectfully disagree. Looking up to heaven is a way to move forward, and wonder what could lie in the beyond. So as a reward for my enthuiasm for the practice, I often get sent to map out the sky.

There was a lot of walking. It wore out my boots, socks, and the souls, but I had a mission and was going to do it well. Either I could make maps for the pleasure of others, or the whole field would fade away. Trekking like this went through places like the binding, winding lands of the tollbons, and up the high, puffy hills of Teba. Every night, my scope would be set up and pointed, searching and asking for the answer. But there was only the black, foggy sky, and silence. Usually.

The first time I saw it was in the hills. This was a spot I had never looked up to before, nobody had. There were entire new systems I could create. But then as I gazed, something was wrong. The stars were twinkling as they did, but some of them were gone… they'd blink out of the patchwork for a minute, then return, like an indecisive seamstress was sowing the thread of the universe.

Then, there wasn't. Looking up, I saw something anew. It was just a sliver at first, a touch of light dancing across the scopes glass eye, a small spirit of new in a dank, indifferent blanket of fog. It seemed to demand my attention, and it grew rapturously as I watched. Extending as though God pulled a flap on the sky, this new world peeled open, and let in a darker night. It wasn't the same dark. This was solid, inky blackness, which swallowed the sky and spread through it, moving across every feature and fixture until it was everything.

Then, it descended onto me.

I don't know why it decided to spare me. The sky fell around every place except where I had camped, sweeping up around the plains and valleys, swallowing them into a vast sea. Before I could even blink, everything in this new sky began swirling again. This time, towards the old heavens that had taken their place again.

The violent tempest swirled around me, smashing through all barriers and creating a sound comparable to the death of a god. Its typhonous roar grew louder and louder as it was torn asunder, spiraling and entwining itself back through the rip. It came in thousands of miles, shifting and bending until it reached its zenith. Then, it was gone, up to whence it had come.

I learned in the next weeks. Secrets and informal unknowns were taught to me, showing me how all things were, had been, and would have to be. No stone was left upturned, and no lifetime was not lived. Peering through the haze of sky and sea, the stars bestowed the gift of knowledge upon me. They were up there, waiting for the gaze of one they could trust. They weren't the small, glistening flesh stars I had known, but large glorious charges that would move him to heaven.

I didn't want to go. I stayed sitting at the lap of this sky for a long, long time. But the knowledge of home kept coming back. There was a responsibility to let the others know, to tell them what I had experienced. So, the trek homeward began. Through the narrow caverns, scraping through the old mines, walking towards old places.

As this journey continued, I thought about things. The things I had learned was almost overwhelming, but it was important that everyone knew. I crossroad was on the horizon, and it brought times of trouble. The tide was coming.

Many were surprised to see me, as almost all had surmised my doom or destruction. But I had lived and seen much, more then any of their lifetimes could show. On the restful day I emerged to the Hall, declaring what had been learned. Some sought to listen, but others shut it out. For the majority the words confused them, and I was taken before a trial.

I'm so sorry. They just don't understand the things I am telling them. Maybe they can't accept where we are. They might one day, but not today,

They were in the ark, and the tide was coming.


Welcome, welcome. You seem to have been taking care of yourself, my friend. It's been too long. Please, come in, we've got everything ready in the sitting room. Don't take off your shoes, I don't mind the dirt. Makes it feel a bit more like home, where we come from.

(@Bunton) Roget, write an article about squirrels possessing foxes.

proper way to cook and eat oak desk

Alas no, the Pastry Kingdom is landlocked and does not maintain a navy

Day One
As I stepped off the rusty iron schooner, the scent of peppermint was tangible. it was a bitterly sweet scent, that permeated the skin of your nose and mouth. The boards of the dock were old and creaky, and looked as though they might collapse at any moment, plunging me into the frigid sea below.

The people of the dock were a rough bunch, with jagged chins and hands encrusted with grain. They eyed me suspiciously as I trod by, seeming unsure of my intent. Thankfully, I won't have to deal with them for long. The train tomorrow will take me far deeper into the continent.

Arriving at my hotel for the first night, the peppermint smell had having been replaced by a much more refned scent of breads and confectionaries. It was a very high-end place, with sugar crystal chandeliers and red velvet seeming to dominate in every room, even the water closet. Exhausted from my trip, however, I was unable to appreciate it fully before I was asleep.

Day Two
I awoke this morning to find that my alarm had been forgotten by the hotel staff, which forced me to conduct a mad dash to the station and nearly caused me to nearly miss my train. Thankfully, the locatives handlers were also sluggish on this day, and I was able to make it to my station before it departed. However, in my rush I fear that I may have forgotten some of my more sensitive equipment. Making a note to review my luggage at the first possibility.

The train itself is an older model, running on black sand. The conducter looked like a nice fellow, with his grese stained overalls and striped blue hat. That engineer, on the other hand, looked like a snake of a man. He had this thin, gaunt look to him that only the shadiest amongst us posses. Must keep an eye out for him.

Day Three
This day has been quite uneventful,

[23:38:23] <Roget> (Bunton) A Brief History of Stairs.
[23:39:45] <Roget> (Silber) The Whoremonger of Misty Mountain


Geographic features of Elra

Has a bay(Elra Bay, known as the "Bay of the Blind Fish" (On Sea Pidgeons)

Great Elra Sandbar, at the mouth of the bay, keeps it safe for trading.

Northern Provinces of Elrich are 'Teba' and the Ebic river is a geographic feature here, which is near the Boll hills and feeds into the Algon lake. None of these are in Elra but they would be only a few days journey away. The swamp is the furthest province of Elrich(Teba Swamp Provinces)

Elra Royal Castle

Home of the Royal Elf Kicker

Has nine corners


AKA Driver

Hartford P. Figglesworth adjusted his sunglasses as he thrrrrrp'd his way up to the Department of Extant Motor Vehicles. Slapping his hypothetical kickstand to the corporeal pavement, he pantomimed slipping off a custom leather seat and stopped blowing his tongue as his hand twisted where the ignition could've been. Stepping through the double glass doors, he surveyed the landscape.

It was a motley line in front of him. There were men dressed as firefighters, ninjas and barbers among other things. Princesses and Presidents sighed and checked their watches. It was a long, dimly lit queue leading up to the front desk. Getting in place, Hartford wondered what all these folks were in line for. Perhaps they, like he, needed permits for their imaginary vehicles.

The line seemed to go on for ages. Along the way, Hartford passed several souls desperate for relief, either for sustenance or some kind of bathroom problem situation. There were some skeletons, picked clean by the others who marched on in unison past the ghastly suffering of the many. All eyes were locked on the front desk, their only hope. After about thirty minutes, Hartford finally found himself face-to-face with the clerk an old woman, with dark skin and shutter shades hanging onto the edge of a thick, powerful schnozz.

She stared at him, her eyes vacant and empty. After a moment, she leaned forward and in a tone resembling a whisper, asked him a question.

"Greetings. What is it you require assistance with?"

Hartford leaned on the counter, twirling his mustache between his fingers. "I'm here about acquiring a permit, madame, for my ride. You might've noticed it outside, at least you would've if it existed outside my head."

She stared at him, before robotically twisting towards a drawer. Pulling out a pile of sand, she poured it onto the desk between them and started to spread it around. "You need to fill out a fugue form in triplicate before we can register you, sir."

Hartford frowned loudly. "That's absurd. I've already spent enough time in the desert, and wandering around there trying to be enlightened or whatever's really taking up a lot of my time. Can't we just skip it?"

"No sir. We must be firm on this" she said, grinding the sand into her skin. "There are no alternatives, sir. If you're not going to be of use, then I can help the next in line."

"No, no, let's talk about this." Hartford leaned over the desk, brushing the sand off the counter and pouring it into her lap. "I really need a permit. I can't risk being pulled over by the fun police again. Last time they barely left me visible."

"If you wish to file a complaint, you can find your teeth and use them to sky-write us a message. We will compel fun to comply within six to two-eights of a week."

"Forget this." Hartford slammed his palm on the table, leaving a sticky residue behind. "If you can't help me out, then I'll risk it. Thanks for nothing."

"Sir, put your hands where I can see them. I'll need to see ID."

Hartford spat on the counter, and stormed out. He didn't need them. He could be fine all on his own. Swinging his legs over empty space where a motorcycle could potentially exist, he pulled his wrists back and blew a raspberry as hard as his lips could manage. Peeling out, he half-stepped into the setting sun and faded into the night.

THRRrrrrrrpppppp…

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