A World of Relics

To the most cultured and enlightened readers of this work, 

If you are reading these pages then you must be an individual of exceptional fortune, for you find yourself in the possession of the Vagabond Omnibus. Maybe you have purchased it yourself, maybe you were gifted it by one of your dearest (and most affluent) friends, or maybe you have found this marvelous work in a place of honor in one of the few great libraries. Whatever circumstance has found you in possession of this book, I would be remiss not to congratulate you on how the winds of fate have smiled upon you today. May you remain in their good graces forevermore. 

This collection of stories, reflections, poems, and journal entries is nothing less than a selection of the best accounts of the most knowledgeable sage of this land and his travels through the continent (and even beyond). This daring knave of a scholar heard the call of the road years ago, and he decided to venture into the world and learn the truth of things as proclaimed by the people closest to it. This inspiring man has heard it all from all those who would tell it, and he has seen much of it for himself. In the pages of this collection, you’ll find most, if not all, of his tales already published by the entrepreneurial bookhouses of the City of Gateway, but you will also find some that not even the most audacious publishers had dared put to paper yet. All of these are shared for a fee that, while not so modest, is unreservedly worthwhile as it allows this most humble sage to continue his travels and uncover ever more deep secrets of the world and share them with the people. 

Hopefully, now you understand the significance of this volume, and you are ready to experience it with the proper deference, for the words that follow may cause a change within you just as the adventures that inspired them have most definitely changed their most humble author, me.

I am most pleased to welcome you to the Vagabond Omnibus and the myriad tales within.

Yours truly, Yarin Chronicler.

Introduction: A World of Relics Untold

Millennia after the Fall of Osterath and the apocalyptic spread of The Malediction, the hands of the Everlasting still move the world of Agnar. If that is a good or bad thing will largely depend on where you are when asking the question. In the continent of Selejia alone, you could get a minimum of four very distinct answers about it. The stories you will find in later pages of this work are a testament to those different viewpoints, but before you hear these conflicting anecdotes, I should start by setting the stage. Oh, I am sure that if you have found your way to this book you think you already know much of this information, but there is much hidden between the lines. And of course, on the off chance this most glorious piece of literature is found by those unlearned in the history of our world, I must make sure these words are readily available. Although I must confess that I do relish this opportunity, for this humble author does have a flair for the dramatic. 

Whatever opinion any person or national unity may hold on how the world of Agnar came to be how it is, all who live (and even some who don’t) can agree on a single statement: the world is broken. It was broken long ago and it has the scars to prove it. Some of these wounds are still healing and some, I fear, may never be closed at all. The Malediction lurks on the horizon of all the civilized people of the land, like the shadow of a long-dead leviathan, whose putrid body contaminates the once beautiful golden fields of the fallen Osterath Empire.

Magic, which once flowed abundantly through our world, is now costly and distant. If once the works of the Everlasting shaped the world as we know it through sheer force of will, now even the most powerful mage must pay a dear price to bring to bear spells that (with all due respect to the esteemed masters of Quinvala) will burn out those not powerful enough to contain it or leave no lasting mark at all.

The greatest nations of the land, struggling to rise from the ashes of fallen Osterath, are racked by infighting, and they can barely bring to bear the strength and cunning necessary to advance civilization in any meaningful way. The colossal walls of the north, the great towers of the east, and the tireless work on the southern holdings, all these millennia-old mortal endeavors pale in comparison to what the world lost when The Fall took place. All those things of an age past, that had not been built, but manifested into existence by the great powers, all of them made to last forever more. All of it lost, in that single fateful day.

And for all of the great works the great people of the continent put forth over the last thousand years, for all the rebuilding and rediscovering we have done, little do we have to show for it, for some of the things lost on that darkest of days may never be recovered. For all we have accomplished in the last thousand years of toil in this mortal realm, the magic, the land itself, and even the people who walk it, we all seem to fade away just a little bit more as the years drag forward. 

And then, out of the darkness… Hope springs forth anew. Oh, the things I have seen, my most dear and splendid reader. Wonderful and terrible things. Even for one who has seen as much as myself, it would be difficult not to feel the exhilaration of hope and the terror of knowledge, for now I have seen them with my very eyes. The Relics!

Our world has always been a world of Relics. The greatest stories ever recorded in the Tabernacle of Knowledge, whispered in the Unliving Archives of Epitaph, or told in the Taverns of New Osterath revolve around them. Of what little history has remained from before The Fall (much of it stored within the Relics themselves), we know that the Relics had great parts to play in everything that transpired, from the most important events to everyday life. After The Fall they remained a constant in history, despite their diminished numbers. Wars have been fought over them, and they have been won by their powers as well. Great miracles and terrible calamities were made to be upon the world by their power. Those who wield them can be sure to have their names recorded in the annals of history or, better yet, in these very pages.

And of those who wield the Relics there is much to speak of and many names, enough to fill this volume and many more. But the most important ones are, of course, the Seekers. I have seen those brave souls, and their acts, courageous or foolhardy as they may be, inspired in me a glimmer of hope. For the deeds I have seen performed mirrored so many of the tales of legendary heroes from before The Fall. I have seen the breath of life returned to dying men and I have seen it being taken away with a single whisper. I have seen great walls being manifested from the land by the unbending resolve of a Seeker, and I have seen that same wall crumble into dust by the rage of another.

Not long ago, there were few enough Relics left that most nations guarded the ones capable of wielding them as great state secrets, but since the Ebbing of the Malediction started and the boundaries of that accursed land began to recede, so many new names have joined the ranks of the legends that one can come to only one conclusion: we find ourselves at the dawn of a new age. 

I no longer fear that our world will fade away into oblivion, for I know that the Seekers and their Relics will either deliver us onto a new dawn, or they will damn us all to an eternal night.

Which of these fates await us, you may ask? Well, dearest reader, I certainly have my thoughts on the matter, but to be quite honest… The dice have been cast, and, fall where they may, this humble storyteller will be there, to record it all.