Post by Weidmann on Feb 1, 2021 18:23:59 GMT
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[attr="style","font-size: 72px;align-content:center;font-family: Constantia; color: var(--text);"]YNYS AFALLACH
[attr="style","font-size: 18px;align-content:center;font-family: Constantia; color: var(--text);"]"The Isle of Apples Hidden Beyond the Clouds"
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Progress moves ever onwards, a relentless march that tramples over all who remain caught in the past. As the sands of time shift, the only means to survive is to evolve. To adapt one's nature to suit the coming era, abandoning what was in favor for what is. This cycle is not advancement, but a ceaseless struggle to stay afloat, to resist the lure of entropy. Yet what of those left behind? What fate awaits those whose means of existence no longer aligns with the trajectory of the new age? For those met with this cruel reality, of a world in which they've been left behind, the answer is oft to simply fade away. Yet for those who still have the will to struggle, who refuse to accept the rules of progress, there is but one haven, the shores of an isle adrift from time, Ynys Aflallach.
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The tale of Ynys Aflallach, The Clouded Isle of Apples and Last Home to The True Magic, begins not with the island itself but with the untamed and boundless mire of the fresh world. From this bountiful wellspring of energy, the first beings soon began to appear. Crude and stiff at first, and unimaginably intricate as the eons progressed. Woven straight from the will of the earth, they were phantasmal spirits, and for untold millennia, they harnessed the essence of True Magic to sustain their existence. True personifications of this unknown time filled with mystery, there was no order that rational logic could ascribe these disparate spirits. So different was the world then that the era in which they reigned cannot be measured by modern metrics. It was a time of True Mysticism before the cooling earth would eventually give birth to a new breed of life. Creatures not governed by the planet's untempered force of will, but by the fine operation of particles. Bound not by the ways of True Magic, but by the laws of physics. Small and insignificant at first, this new breed would forever be known as beasts, and their arrival was the earliest sign of the shifting tides.
For a time, these beasts and phantasms were able to exist alongside the other. The difference in their origin prevented them from ever reaching harmony, yet, they survived without conflict. Their peace was a tentative one and, like all things, eventually reached its end. Few of the phantasmal spirits paid close enough attention to the primitive beasts to witness their transformation, yet slowly those beasts developed the critical quality of sentience. Possessing simple wisdom at first, these beasts began to grow in both strength and numbers. As these new beasts proliferated, they rapidly spread around the world, outpacing the comparatively slow movements of the ancient phantasms. Bound not by the primordial laws of magics, but by the frantic chaos of physics there was soon no land their influence did not reach, and with their presence came a subtle corruption. Pressed back by the changing landscape and the shifting of a primeval order, the phantasmal spirits soon found themselves unable to survive in a land governed by the laws of physics. None can claim to know when the glow of the Old World finally faded, some point to the disappearance of the Dragon Flight, while others cite the death of Solomon, The Original Magi. However, by the time human hunters had mastered the art of slaying phantasmal spirits, and human mages had perverted the use of True Magic, it was clear the times had shifted.
Unable to come to terms with the dying light and seeking to extend their idyllic era for as long as the fates would allow, the hunted phantasmal spirits desperately pleaded for salvation, and to their misfortune, their cry was answered. The one who heard their pleas has since been scrubbed from all retellings and accounts only ever referred to as The Traitor. Whether he was a son of man or a phantasm is either unknown or forgotten, yet his crimes were unforgivable. Throughout the era of degradation, powerful resting places remained scattered across the world. Small holdouts of immense magical energy, where phantasmal spirits would retreat in times of strife to hide and restore their strength. Of these bastions, the most bountiful was without question The Fountain of Youth. Capable of sustaining itself until the end of time, many held onto hope that so long as the fountain lasted the Old World would never truly fade. It was this faith that made The Traitor's destruction of the pond all the more unthinkable. He tore the heart from the fountain, stripping its origin of「Eternity」and fed it to his homeland. The damage caused was felt almost instantly across the world, as in a fraction of a second the last light of the Old World was snuffed out. The backlash created by the act forever drove a wedge between the isle and the world around it. As the island was transformed into an eternal paradise, a bounded domain completely severed from the New World. No matter how the era shifted, the True Magic of the isle would never fade. Yet, the cost of this miracle was far too steep. His actions robbed the Earth of its last piece of True Magic, damning all those who remained, all to preserve an artificial paradise, his Isle, Ynys Afallach.
The land constructed by that ancient sinner is truly a realm beyond compare. Created as an idealized reconstruction of the Old World, it is in all manners, perfect in its creation. To call Ynys Afallach an isle is only accurate to the softest degree, for while space is harshly defined under the laws of physics this restriction becomes much lighter upon Ynys Afallach. While the small island that The Traitor tore away from the earth should only take several hours to trek across, one could spend eons before they reached the edge of the isle's shore. Despite this nonsensical structure, there is an order to The Isle of Apples. With a clear center marked by the perilous peaks of Copa'r Duw Tân, a massive mountain range ringed by miles of gently rolling hills and plains. These plains comprise the majority of the realm, however, scattered amongst these plains are Domains. Such as the forests of Llwyn Oed and, even further beyond, the untamed unknown that seems to stretch without end. While much of the land has been influenced by the extremely dense magical energy, much of the geology is still vaguely reminiscent of the Welsh island it used to be. The same cannot be said about either the flora or fauna pulled into the Isle when it was torn from the world. The richness of the land has caused them to flourish beyond reason, luscious fields of prismatic flowers run for miles. Creatures that were long since forgotten, and even creatures that never had the chance to be, roam the island. Accompanied by the likes of fey, elves, sprites, drakes, and manticores to simply scratch the surface.
The summer days upon the isle are warm and filled with brilliant sunshine. Flowers coat the softly sloping hills in full bloom, their pastel colors swirling together to paint a beautiful tapestry as the ever gentle wind scatters their petals. When the warmth of summer fades into autumn, the light chill bites just enough to enjoy the comfort of a hearth. The homely smell of harvest and spices fills the air, while the transitioning leaves spread across a hue of orange and red. After the first icy flake falls and winter begins, the land is coated in an inch of freshly laid snow. The land is gripped by a serene silence, as the beasts drift into a long slumber. During this time, most spend their days within warm homes. Leaving time to admire the night sky, alight with a brilliant display of the winter stars. Finally, when the snow melts and early spring replaces the late winter, the beasts begin to stir once more. Shaking off their weariness as the land comes to life, as grass forces its way through the weakened ice and flowers burst into bloom. The days punctuated by the occasional cloudless spring shower, drizzling a dazzling array of raindrops that sparkle in the air like perfect diamonds. If a true paradise does exist, it surely cannot compare to the splendor of Ynys Afallach. It has been blessed to repeat the perfect year for all of eternity. Each passing season is uniform in length, with each tick of the realms clock carefully constructed. Severed from the constant decay and destruction of the world, it is both free from entropy and progress. Built to exist as an eternal garden, for those who wished to remain untouched by the corruption of man.
Ynys Afallach is perhaps the only place left in which True Magic exists as it used to. Generated by the rhymic beating of Gaea herself, it is not confined by leylines or wielded by sorcerers. Rather, it is the world's will actualized, a power that runs through the air itself. Compared to the degenerated traces of arcane residue present in the New World, even those unattuned can feel the magical density within the borders of Ynys Afallach. Unburdened by the careful restrictions of spells and pacts, this force is as natural to guide as air is to breathe. As such, Ynys Afallach is intrinsically miraculous, supporting the existence of beings who defy conventional logic and enabling feats that should otherwise prove impossible. Even granted infinite time and resources, the magic of the New World could never come close to replicating the True Magic of Ynys Afallach. For this reason alone, the inhabitants of the isle have long since wished for it to remain divided from the New World. However, all things are destined to end, and it appears that even the「Eternity」plundered from The Fountain of Youth is reaching its limits. The space between Ynys Afallach and the New World has never been closer, and on occasion, the stray phantasmal spirit has been torn from its paradise. Even more frightening are the moments in which an outsider somehow slips between the cracks and finds themselves within a realm that wishes nothing to do with them. Consistent access in to or out of The Isle of Apples is believed to be impossible, however, that simply means it is only a matter of time. Even now there is an exception, a metaphorical key to the kingdom granted to the ever-controversial and reluctant Sovergion of the Isles. Some call this coronation of the new king a sign that the end times have finally arrived, and to a degree they are right. For the clouds are parting around Ynys Afallach and it will soon be forced to reintegrate into the New World, however, the fate of either has yet to be seen.
For a time, these beasts and phantasms were able to exist alongside the other. The difference in their origin prevented them from ever reaching harmony, yet, they survived without conflict. Their peace was a tentative one and, like all things, eventually reached its end. Few of the phantasmal spirits paid close enough attention to the primitive beasts to witness their transformation, yet slowly those beasts developed the critical quality of sentience. Possessing simple wisdom at first, these beasts began to grow in both strength and numbers. As these new beasts proliferated, they rapidly spread around the world, outpacing the comparatively slow movements of the ancient phantasms. Bound not by the primordial laws of magics, but by the frantic chaos of physics there was soon no land their influence did not reach, and with their presence came a subtle corruption. Pressed back by the changing landscape and the shifting of a primeval order, the phantasmal spirits soon found themselves unable to survive in a land governed by the laws of physics. None can claim to know when the glow of the Old World finally faded, some point to the disappearance of the Dragon Flight, while others cite the death of Solomon, The Original Magi. However, by the time human hunters had mastered the art of slaying phantasmal spirits, and human mages had perverted the use of True Magic, it was clear the times had shifted.
Unable to come to terms with the dying light and seeking to extend their idyllic era for as long as the fates would allow, the hunted phantasmal spirits desperately pleaded for salvation, and to their misfortune, their cry was answered. The one who heard their pleas has since been scrubbed from all retellings and accounts only ever referred to as The Traitor. Whether he was a son of man or a phantasm is either unknown or forgotten, yet his crimes were unforgivable. Throughout the era of degradation, powerful resting places remained scattered across the world. Small holdouts of immense magical energy, where phantasmal spirits would retreat in times of strife to hide and restore their strength. Of these bastions, the most bountiful was without question The Fountain of Youth. Capable of sustaining itself until the end of time, many held onto hope that so long as the fountain lasted the Old World would never truly fade. It was this faith that made The Traitor's destruction of the pond all the more unthinkable. He tore the heart from the fountain, stripping its origin of「Eternity」and fed it to his homeland. The damage caused was felt almost instantly across the world, as in a fraction of a second the last light of the Old World was snuffed out. The backlash created by the act forever drove a wedge between the isle and the world around it. As the island was transformed into an eternal paradise, a bounded domain completely severed from the New World. No matter how the era shifted, the True Magic of the isle would never fade. Yet, the cost of this miracle was far too steep. His actions robbed the Earth of its last piece of True Magic, damning all those who remained, all to preserve an artificial paradise, his Isle, Ynys Afallach.
The land constructed by that ancient sinner is truly a realm beyond compare. Created as an idealized reconstruction of the Old World, it is in all manners, perfect in its creation. To call Ynys Afallach an isle is only accurate to the softest degree, for while space is harshly defined under the laws of physics this restriction becomes much lighter upon Ynys Afallach. While the small island that The Traitor tore away from the earth should only take several hours to trek across, one could spend eons before they reached the edge of the isle's shore. Despite this nonsensical structure, there is an order to The Isle of Apples. With a clear center marked by the perilous peaks of Copa'r Duw Tân, a massive mountain range ringed by miles of gently rolling hills and plains. These plains comprise the majority of the realm, however, scattered amongst these plains are Domains. Such as the forests of Llwyn Oed and, even further beyond, the untamed unknown that seems to stretch without end. While much of the land has been influenced by the extremely dense magical energy, much of the geology is still vaguely reminiscent of the Welsh island it used to be. The same cannot be said about either the flora or fauna pulled into the Isle when it was torn from the world. The richness of the land has caused them to flourish beyond reason, luscious fields of prismatic flowers run for miles. Creatures that were long since forgotten, and even creatures that never had the chance to be, roam the island. Accompanied by the likes of fey, elves, sprites, drakes, and manticores to simply scratch the surface.
The summer days upon the isle are warm and filled with brilliant sunshine. Flowers coat the softly sloping hills in full bloom, their pastel colors swirling together to paint a beautiful tapestry as the ever gentle wind scatters their petals. When the warmth of summer fades into autumn, the light chill bites just enough to enjoy the comfort of a hearth. The homely smell of harvest and spices fills the air, while the transitioning leaves spread across a hue of orange and red. After the first icy flake falls and winter begins, the land is coated in an inch of freshly laid snow. The land is gripped by a serene silence, as the beasts drift into a long slumber. During this time, most spend their days within warm homes. Leaving time to admire the night sky, alight with a brilliant display of the winter stars. Finally, when the snow melts and early spring replaces the late winter, the beasts begin to stir once more. Shaking off their weariness as the land comes to life, as grass forces its way through the weakened ice and flowers burst into bloom. The days punctuated by the occasional cloudless spring shower, drizzling a dazzling array of raindrops that sparkle in the air like perfect diamonds. If a true paradise does exist, it surely cannot compare to the splendor of Ynys Afallach. It has been blessed to repeat the perfect year for all of eternity. Each passing season is uniform in length, with each tick of the realms clock carefully constructed. Severed from the constant decay and destruction of the world, it is both free from entropy and progress. Built to exist as an eternal garden, for those who wished to remain untouched by the corruption of man.
Ynys Afallach is perhaps the only place left in which True Magic exists as it used to. Generated by the rhymic beating of Gaea herself, it is not confined by leylines or wielded by sorcerers. Rather, it is the world's will actualized, a power that runs through the air itself. Compared to the degenerated traces of arcane residue present in the New World, even those unattuned can feel the magical density within the borders of Ynys Afallach. Unburdened by the careful restrictions of spells and pacts, this force is as natural to guide as air is to breathe. As such, Ynys Afallach is intrinsically miraculous, supporting the existence of beings who defy conventional logic and enabling feats that should otherwise prove impossible. Even granted infinite time and resources, the magic of the New World could never come close to replicating the True Magic of Ynys Afallach. For this reason alone, the inhabitants of the isle have long since wished for it to remain divided from the New World. However, all things are destined to end, and it appears that even the「Eternity」plundered from The Fountain of Youth is reaching its limits. The space between Ynys Afallach and the New World has never been closer, and on occasion, the stray phantasmal spirit has been torn from its paradise. Even more frightening are the moments in which an outsider somehow slips between the cracks and finds themselves within a realm that wishes nothing to do with them. Consistent access in to or out of The Isle of Apples is believed to be impossible, however, that simply means it is only a matter of time. Even now there is an exception, a metaphorical key to the kingdom granted to the ever-controversial and reluctant Sovergion of the Isles. Some call this coronation of the new king a sign that the end times have finally arrived, and to a degree they are right. For the clouds are parting around Ynys Afallach and it will soon be forced to reintegrate into the New World, however, the fate of either has yet to be seen.
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{(OOC / RULES)}-As you can see, it's still heavily WIP, this is just a light overview of the concept.
-Currently, reliable access to the Isle is unachievable, and those who find their way in may have an extremely difficult time getting out.
For now, the location is more just for setting some pieces up, I plan to run an event shortly that'll open the place up for proper use.
-If you really wanna have your character drop-in, feel free to drop a post below just be sure to sell the difficulty of leaving. You may not be able to leave until the aforementioned event drops in a week. (On the bright side, Leon could do with the company)
-Other than that, have fun romping around paradise until you get munched on by a dragon.
-Standard RPF rules, of course, apply.
-Currently, reliable access to the Isle is unachievable, and those who find their way in may have an extremely difficult time getting out.
For now, the location is more just for setting some pieces up, I plan to run an event shortly that'll open the place up for proper use.
-If you really wanna have your character drop-in, feel free to drop a post below just be sure to sell the difficulty of leaving. You may not be able to leave until the aforementioned event drops in a week. (On the bright side, Leon could do with the company)
-Other than that, have fun romping around paradise until you get munched on by a dragon.
-Standard RPF rules, of course, apply.