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The Hivemind of Hy-Brasil

The Hivemind of Hy-Brasil

The Hivemind of Hy-Brasil is a D&D roleplay based on my homebrew world with homebrew rules. It is like 99% a private rp unless you're really, really interested in joining and think you can keep up with the quality of our content.

242 readers have visited this universe since NethanielShade created it.
Topics: , d&d, fanfic, fantasy, and magic (Add Tags »)

Copyright: The creator of this roleplay has attributed some or all of its content to the following sources:

homebrew setting largely borrowing from d&d stuff.
Requires Approval: Yes

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Introduction

This is all still under construction, come back later.

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The Kingdom of Norwich, the Second Kingdom of Man, in the Northern Ashlind region on the continent Equaeyun, of the world of Hy-Brasil, is a Theocratic Constitutional Monarchy kingdom that is 1540 years old, with a physical area of over 221 square miles and a total population of over 290,000 people. Norwich’s primary population are Norwichites, one of the ethnicities of Wildborn Humans. It’s secondary population is Half-Elves, followed by Frost and Wood Elves. There are also small communities of Dwarves in the kingdom. Aasimar make up the highest caste in Norwich’s social structure. Aasimar almost always become paladins or clerics, and they are the highest in the church. The king, and the heir to the royal lineage, is also almost always an Aasimar.

Norwich’s social cast, from highest to lowest, is as follows; King, Royal Family, Clergy, Aristocrats, Industry Owners, Merchants, Soldiers, City/Town Guards, Working Class Citizens, Poverty Class Citizens. In each social caste, Aasimar are at the top, followed by humans, half-elves, elves, then other races, with half-humans generally being higher than full non-humans.

Norwich is neighbored by the kingdom of Flint to the north across the Dragonspine Mountains, the kingdom of Illusk to the west across the Aegsis Channel, to the south is the Bohemdu Bay, and to the east is Thalassa, the ocean.

The Hivemind of Hy-Brazil takes place after a tabletop campaign of D&D I recently ran, in which Norwich is fighting a 3 front war unknowingly. A demon invasion from the abyss just broke out in the center of the kingdom, an ancient dracolich is plotting to take over the kingdom and become a god, and lastly a massive mindflayer colony is growing and beginning to stir in the depths below. Norwich’s technological level is nearly identical to the real world in the year 1800 AD, so any inventions up until then exist in Norwich.

Rules

Look, this is pretty much a private roleplay. We aren't planning on anyone else joining. Now, I'm not closed to the idea, but we are running this as D&D 5e rules with homebrew rules so it might take some getting used to. Almost everything that we'll be writing down will have been influenced by dice rolls (that will be posted in the OOC). It's kinda a weird system we've got going, that's why it's private. That said, if you REALLY want to join and think you can keep up, don't be afraid to talk to us about it.

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Character Portrait: Brynyr Lavellan "Sure, I pursue magic. It doesn't make me some grey-haired, wizened old wizard, though."
Character Portrait: Tilgrund Halbur "The monks taught me. Don't think that means I'm a pacifist. I'll punch your jaw in while my brother sneaks you for all you're worth."

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Norwich

Norwich by NethanielShade

Norwich, the Second Kingdom of Man.

The Great Wheel

The Great Wheel by NethanielShade

The Great Wheel is the name for the cosmological structure of the multiverse. It is synonymous for “The Multiverse” or “The Planes of Existence.”

The Prime Material Plane

The Prime Material Plane by NethanielShade

The Prime Material Plane is the Plane in which Hy-Brasil, its’ solar system, galaxy, and surrounding universe exists in.

The Skyflower Galaxy

The Skyflower Galaxy by NethanielShade

The Skyflower Galaxy, named so long ago due to how it looks in the night sky, is the galaxy in which Hy-Basil’s solar system exists in.

The Hy-Sol System

The Hy-Sol System by NethanielShade

The Hy-Sol System is the solar system in which Hy-Brasil and 5 other planets exists in.

Hy-Brasil

Hy-Brasil by NethanielShade

Hy-Brasil is the main planet in the Prime Material Plane in which the story will take place.

Equaeyun

Equaeyun by NethanielShade

Equayun is a massive continent, one of only four, on the surface of Hy-Brasil.

Ashlind

Ashlind by NethanielShade

The Ashlind region is the northern region of the continent of Equayun, and contains key areas such as Norwich, Illusk, and Europa-iv.

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Setting

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Character Portrait: Brynyr Lavellan Character Portrait: Tilgrund Halbur
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The shrieks, the laughter, the whispers, the wailing! We
were going mad. We knew not why or how, but delusions
and hallucinations ruled our feverish minds.


..... Brynyr spake the words aloud ominously, the air seeming to cool around him as he recounted the journal's entry of an adventurer that had once faced a beast he called a 'Gibbering Mouther.' He looked across the round wooden table of the tavern they are in, part of The Quickly Quickling, the inn the two brothers had been living in for the past two weeks. His half-brother, Tilgrund, sitting at the other end of the table, roughly five feet away, was busy gulping down mixed spirits from a tankard.
..... Brynyr studied his brother's features for a moment, though Tilgrund was a half-orc, he had a human skin tone, contrasting the orc's typical green. The sides and back of his head were shaved at some point, now the hair is extremely short, with longer hair atop his scalp, swept back. His beard was short and scruff, but not patchy like Brynyr's tended to be, and if it weren't for the pointed ears and extremely small 'tusks,' really just pronounced lower canines barely poking out of his lips, he could almost pass as a rather gruff human. Luckily in Shoegrove, 99% of the population were half races, with just over 50% being half-elves like Brynyr, the two brothers fit in well, and usually spent their downtime between adventures in the town.
..... The thunk of Tilgrund's tankard hitting the wooden table snapped Brynyr back to reality.
..... "Wouldn't want to meet one of those horrors, eh brother?" Brynyr mused, closing the tome and sliding it to the side of the table, where a dozen other books rest.
..... "I'm sure it's no worse than the bigots back home, probably better company!" Tilgrund jested, and proceeded to motion for the barmaid. As she came over with another tankard, Tilgrund ordered some food, and Brynyr scrunched up his nose. The tavern smelt of ale, bile, and the occasional whiff of piss from the patrons, and though it didn't bother Tilgrund, Brynyr much preferred a cleaner study. However, Brynyr preferred his brother's company to studying alone, and so he put up with the loud clamor and unpleasant smells of the tavern, so his brother could drink, eat, and socialize.
..... "Our birthplace is no home, brother." Brynyr replied. Brynyr preferred not to drink alcohol, and instead sipped on a mug of tea halfway through his sentence. Tea during the day, and coffee in the morning whilst going over spells, was a taste no more expensive than Tilgrund's drinking habits. The next book Brynyr took from the stack of books he had yet to go through was a red leather-bound journal, and the pages were handwritten rather than printed. As Brynyr nosed through the pages of the journal and the barmaid brought Tilgrund his food - beef steak and cooked potatoes, what a heavenly aroma! - Brynyr realized that the journal was a compilation of old maps from Norwich, some of which were a couple hundred years old, depicting locations that no longer exist in the modern day, or are heavily different now. Brynyr pulled out his own travel map of the country and began marking down a few locations of interest when something caught his eye. In between two pages, a scrap of paper no bigger than his hand stuck out. The edges were ripped and worn from years of use, and the paper cracked and dry, delicate under Brynyr's dexterous fingers. The scrap was no doubt once a full map, but now was reduced to a very small region of Norwich, and was almost unrecognizable except for the patterns of the hills. "These are the Monstrous Hills, here." Brynyr remarked, carefully showing his brother. The area seemed to be the hills around Dumgolar, only the city wasn't even marked on the map. "This map is, at the very least, four hundred years old." Brynyr nearly exclaimed with surprise. Upon quick inspection, it was clear that only one landmark was marked down on the map. It had no label, just a large X followed by an exclamation point. Brynyr had looked over maps before, as they had both been dungeon delving several times, and he knew that an X meant a dungeon or a location of treasure, and an exclamation point meant extreme danger.
..... "What do you say?" Brynyr asked, "It's been a few months. Ready walk some decrepit halls again?"
..... Tilgrund hummed deeply and with some thought, before reaching for his pack, presumably to check its contents. As he spoke, he chewed between words. "I suppose," He paused, "It wouldn't hurt. We find anything inside, we sell it and make some more coin, yeah? Maybe we'll even find some interestin' loot for you. Some dusty tomes, yeah?"
..... Brynyr also checked his coin purse while he spoke, partly to make sure he hadn't been pilfered, but also to access how much longer they could survive on coin. 22 gold, 20 silver, and 100 copper pieces. Enough coin to last them a month more, lodging at The Quickly Quickling. However, that only took into account a night's rentn, and not the price of food and drink. And they spent a lot on food and drink. Better to use the last of his coffers to buy supplies for the journey ahead than to try to stretch it thin, staying at the inn any longer. "Then that settles it, we take the horses at dawn and ride for Dumgolar." He said, and he began gathering up the tomes on the table to take back to the town library. "One last thing, though." He pulled out an inkwell and dipped his finger in it, enough to barely have a drop of ink on the tip of his index finger. Speaking under his breath, he weaved an incantation, "Vollivistra volidvril yolrarid." He breathed, a dry finger on the ancient map, and the finger with the ink dot pressed into a page in his spellbook. Suddenly, the ink swirled out and formed an image, a perfect copy of the ancient map on the blank page in his spellbook. Then, he gathered everything up for the night.

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Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Brynyr Lavellan Character Portrait: Tilgrund Halbur
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"Thrice damned beast… Where is your spine… Your shoulderblades!? What say you?” Came the deep utterances from Tilgrund’s mouth, the half-orc unaware that he was even doing so. The inn room that he and Brynyr shared was filled with the near silent breathing from the half-elf, and the muttering and snoring from the half-orc. A large, cloth wrapped pole arm was leaned against the wall, where Tilgrund had decided to sleep for the night- his back pressed against the wall in an uncomfortable posture. A long sigh left him, and once more came the muttering.

I can't find it's... Spine? Is that... Where do I look... Help me!

A vision, flashing quickly through his mind as he re-lived the moment he had been taught how to hunt, how to skin, correctly. An elderly monk was knelt beside him in the dream, robes pulled taught around a muscled and yet lithe frame. A hood hid the face from sight, Tilgrund’s mind having long forgotten the actual face of the monk who was assigned to him. The old man had taught the half-orc so much, had helped him in many ways that Tilgrund couldn’t even explain with words… And yet, he had forgotten his face. The guilt wasn’t there as it usually was in his dreams, and as he turned to look into the hood; he was met with a far different visage.

A endless depth of kaleidoscope glass peered at him, a voice echoing out from empty space punctuated by crackling light and color. A beard made from what looked like ink-black, iridescent tentacles writhed at the bottom of the hood. “Pay attention boy. You must understand them, subsume them into us. Become them. Become us. So much potential. Focus. FOCUS.” The voice rasped from within the hood as it rose to a roaring shout, the multifaceted planes of what looked like glass flashing black and starry. In the dream, Tilgrund understood it as the depths of the beyond... But as he jumped back into consciousness, limbs flailing into agitated movement, he only understood nothing of it.


The haze of sleep clung to his mind, eyes rolling about wildly as limbs stretched to disproportionate lengths and angles, Tilgrund lashed out at empty air. The pole-arm at his side fell to the floor with a clattering ruckus, and the noise was enough to both snap him out from the haze, and wake Brynyr from his trancing at the bed.

With labored breathing, Tilgrund turned his gaze from the wall to his half-brother, staring with limbs that stretched nigh as far as a bugbear. A shaky grin made it's way to his face as he awaited the inevitable questions.

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Character Portrait: Brynyr Lavellan Character Portrait: Tilgrund Halbur
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..... Brynyr sat up, waking up that early morning, his head only slightly fuddled by sleep. Being a half-elf had its perks, and waking up quicker than others was one of them. He stood, crossed the bedroom to the bureau to pour whale oil into the quinquet and light it. He then pulled his travel clothes out of the armoire, throwing Tilgrund his clothes for the day. As they went through their morning routine, Brynyr drilled Tilgrund with questions. It wasn't unusual for Tilgrund to have dreams, and Brynyr was a believer in the philosophy that dreams could hold secrets about the future. He'd seen it in his arcane studies. And so, every time Tilgrund had his night terrors, Brynyr questioned him the next morning, writing notes of import into his spellbook. This dream, though, seemed to be a trauma dream of the past, having to do with his monk powers, it seemed. Still, Brynyr made thorough notes, to be safe.
..... After they had their things packed and readied, Brynyr let out a sigh. They'd been staying at this inn for two weeks now, and Brynyr and Tilgrund, both being paranoid, had set up an Arcane Lock on the room door to keep unwanted tenants out. Now that they were moving out, the lock would have to be removed, less it's discovered and reported to authorities that Brynyr is capable of arcane magic. The problem is, the spell to dispel the lock is a particularly taxing spell, and he wouldn't be as ready for the day's travel afterwards as he would have liked to be.
..... Howbeit, he began the short chant, whilst making the required hand movements, "Mauyeeg duoitzolg vulaug."

..... An hour later, right as the sun began to rise, they were making their way out of the small community of Shoegrove, bellies full from breakfast and their tab on the inn room paid. They left through the town gates, neither of them wearing armor, Brynyr's stuff packed in his horse, Ranger's saddlebags, and likewise with Tilgrund's horse, Shikite. After about four and a half hours of boring riding, they came across a sign saying they were leaving the Shoegrove province and entering the Gren province.
..... ""Seven miles down, brother. If I'm reading the map correctly, we have a little over a 200 mile trip ahead of us. We're looking at about a tenday travel."

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Character Portrait: Brynyr Lavellan Character Portrait: Tilgrund Halbur
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"Hrm. A week of travel? You're sure?" Disbelief colored Tilgrund's tone as they kept on their way, having kept the horses at a relatively normal pace. Though he knew that they had no need to move any faster or with any more hurry than necessary, the half-orc couldn't help but feel that they were moving far too slow. It was a typical problem whenever he and Brynyr traveled, while he always had patience, more oft than not Tilgrund would grow... Antsy.

He swallowed the building angst and complaints, instead shrugging his shoulders and speaking just before Brynyr could get a word out. "Y'know what, never-you-mind. I trust you and your map," he continued on in a hushed mutter, "I just wish we would have some amount of excitement whilst we travel." A long sigh left his mouth, breath fogging the air before him as the favored weather of winter began.

Snow, falling from the sky with snowflakes large and thick began their drift from the heavens to the ground below. After two more hours of riding, the land before and behind them had become clung to by frost and white. Tilgrund had stayed mostly quiet throughout the day, breaking it occasionally to ask Brynyr to ‘tell me somethin’ I don’t know?’. He often asked of such from his brother, if only to help pass the time as his sibling would teach him about random odds and ends, numbers and topics of magic that Tilgrund still hadn’t quite grasped yet.

It was as the sun began setting that Tilgrund made the comment to set up camp, leading Shikite to the side of the road they had been traveling and tying the horse to a nearby oak. He helped his brother set up their tents, looking to Brynyr to aid in the starting of the fire while he would take care of cooking for the evening.

The snow had stopped minutes before, though the world was quiet and heavy with silence, and as the stars began glinting in the sky above, Tilgrund found himself oddly content. Ladle in the tin-pot he used for cooking the stews they ate while out of towns or cities.

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Character Portrait: Brynyr Lavellan Character Portrait: Tilgrund Halbur
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..... Knowingly, Brynyr nodded in acknowledgment to his brother's complaints of boredom. The half-orc seemed to have an appetite for excitement exceeding the half-elf's, though Brynyr was well used to it by this point. "We're travelling from Shoegrove to near Dumgolar, almost as far past Dumgolar to the north-east as Hillford is to Dumgolar's south-west." He spake, knowing his brother, like most frequent travelers, would understand the travel distance comparison. There was a moment of silence, excepting the trotting of horses' hooves on the dirt-and-cobble path through the countryside. Off in the distance, a griffin cry sounded, barely audible. A normal noise in the Stet Hills. The air was nearly frigid, as it was the 28th day of Frostfall, the tenth month of the year, and clouds of vapor formed in front of the brothers' hoods, and even larger huffs from their mounts' snouts.
..... Later, snow began to cover the countryside in a frosting-like manner. Brynyr's spellbook floated in front of his torso by about a foot, held aloft by a spectral blue mage hand. Brynyr spent his travel-time half-reading and half-conversing with his older brother to keep him occupied.
..... "Tell me somethin’ I don’t know?" Tilgrund asked Brynyr. It was common of him to ask such questions. Tilgrund was naturally curious, after all. Most people assumed half-orcs to be dumb and brutish due to their strength and the low intelligence of orcs, but half-orcs almost always inherited the cunning, intellect, and aptitude of their human parent. Brynyr paused thoughtfully, racking his brain on what he could teach his brother today. Before his brother asked, Brynyr was reading some pages about trigonometry and triangulation that a scholar had written in a book and Brynyr had copied over to his spellbook. However, advanced mathematics tended to be beyond his brother's willingness to learn.
..... Then, a topic seemingly randomly popped into his head. "Tell me, brother. Have I told you of the fearsome Illithids, commonly called Mind Flayers?"
..... "Sounds like the high moorsman at the monastery; assholish, holier-than-thou, and evil."
..... Bryyr let out a hearty and genuine chuckle. "You're pretty close with that description, there, brother. Alas, Illithids are not humans. No, they are about as alien as one can imagine a humanoid to be. Gross, evil, abberant beings.
..... "Illithids are purple-skinned tentacle-faced humanoid beings said to inhabit the Underdark. Most commonfolk believe Drow are the worst you can run into down there. I differ in that opinion. Illithids enslave humanoid races and live in hive-mind colonies. Each member of the race has stronger psionic abilities than even the most disciplined of monks. Due to this, they have an intense hunger for psionic energy, and can only survive off of eating the brains of humanoids. Or so scholars say." Brynyr paused, letting Tilgrund soak up the information. "To be truthful, we don't know much about them. Forays into the underdark are dangerous, and they rarely come to the surface. I saw a drawing of a dissection of one, but the biology seemed either woefully inaccurate, or so alien that the artist wasn't sure how to capture it." As they walked, Tilgrund asked more questions about Illithids, mainly how to kill them. Though Brynyr had said all he knew, he theorized that though they were dangerous, they were probably about as squishy as any other humanoid.
..... After eight hours of travel, or twenty-four miles down, the sun lightly touched the horizon, and Tilgrund commented on making camp. Brynyr agreed, and helped Tilgrund set up camp, with his mage hand acting as a third hand to help the both of them set up their tents, and using prestidigitation to light a small tuft of grass to help start the campfire. Until the fire was started, the world was mute in silence, the snow muffling the sounds of the countryside. Only the soft crunch of snow packing beneath their feet, and the deep breaths of them and their horses, could be heard.
..... That night, though the air got dangerously cold to the point where even their tents had trouble retaining heat, thankfully (or perhaps, thanks to that) nothing had seemed to come by their camp overnight.

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Character Portrait: Brynyr Lavellan Character Portrait: Tilgrund Halbur
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As morning broke over the horizon, Tilgrund rose from his tent, bleary eyed and grumpy. The air was bitterly cold, heavy with frost and an unkind lack of heat. His tusks, shorter than most of his kin, scraped against his upper lip as he yawned and worked his jaw, stiffness having settled into every muscle throughout the night. He had once again had a dream, though the one that had plagued him during the past night was no more than the usual dreams all of his ilk were plagued by: Gruumsh whispering his name and rasping ideas and thoughts of violent, vicious revenge. Tilgrund's mood fell only slightly, brow furrowing as he shook his head and sighed abruptly. He turned to the sound of his brother's tent rustling, noting that Brynyr looked far better for a mood than he did.

Tilgrund gave a wave, turning away to look down at the space the campfire had occupied the night prior. Steamy breath rose, before he once again turned and spoke, voice gruff with grogginess and repressed irritation. "And how did you sleep brother? No dreams?" Brynyr looked up for a moment before simply shrugging, mumbling "I'll tell you on the road, if I remember anything." Which for Tilgrund was good enough. The half-orc sighed heavily once again and took to stretching, eyes noting the expanses of snow about them. The world was still quiet, though a griffon's cry once again broke the silence as usual; perhaps having spotted it's morning meal.

They spent the rest of the morning in relative silence, breaking camp with the help of the mage hand once again while Tilgrund would offhandedly hum some pub song under his breath, at one point even going so far as to hum a relatively popular sea shanty. Where he had managed to learn, or even hear, the shanty was apparently a tale as long as it was wild. As they took to their saddles, Tilgrund began talking; Brynyr's prompting giving him something to do and fill the otherwise wonderfully stifling silence of the world. "Once, when we had just left 'home', there was this soldier, or at least I thought he was, who had come into the tavern for a drink. D'you remember that one tavern? The one that smelt like horse piss and lavender? I remember bein' absolutely tossed. Couldn't tell where my feet were, my hands... You were asleep by this point, I think. I'd had a dream of... Her. Again..."

The tale had trailed on, with Tilgrund making wild motions with his arms and hands the entire while. His voice and face rose and fell; and while normally the half-orc was perfectly capable of remaining in his saddle, today just seemed to be an unlucky day. Far too invested in his retelling of the story, Tilgrund motioned just a little too far to his left, and Shikite chose at that time to raise her leg just ever so high. The half-orc immediately gave a small "Oop!" as his body went to fall entirely out of the saddle. His reflexes weren't so terrible for once however, and a tawny hand managed to grab hold of the saddle-horn. Catching his breath, Tilgrund brought himself back up into the saddle and took a long moment to simply look at his brother, who stared back at him... Before they both broke out into chuckles and grins.

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..... Chuckles and grins indeed, Brynyr enjoyed the merriment and mirth he often shared with his older brother. Tilgrund was, after all, the only person Brynyr had in life. The bond between the half-brothers was a strong one, for the both knew if they hadn't each other, they would have no one. After the chuckles died down, a sour mood passed over Brynyr as he remembered what Tilgrund had said earlier. He dreamt of 'Her.' This, of course, meant their whore of a mother. The very mother that raised them both in a brothel as toddlers, and abused them both. Now, Brynyr knew that the reason she abused them was because they were both accidental pregnancies during her 'job.' And that the townsfolk of their home village abused their mother as much as she had abused the brothers. Still, Brynyr felt only resentment for her, and yearned to never see her again.
..... And so the brothers traveled. And then made camp at nightfall, in the flat-country betwixt the hill-country oh the Stet Hills and the farmland of Central Norwich. Then, they traveled for another day. Then, they made camp, again, less than two hours' travel from a fork in the road that would finally begin to take them northward. They had been following a steady south-east path along the road, when their actual destination was far north-east. Of course, travelling as the crow flies would have lead them off-road and along a dangerous trek through the Stet Hills and the Monstrous Hills, famous for all kinds of beasts ranging from Griffons to Perytons.
..... The next morning, Brynyr rather cheerfully informed Tilgrund, "Today is the first day of Moonfeast! The eleventh month of the year!" Tilgrund, of course, knew Moonfeast was the eleventh month. A day on Hy-Brasil had twenty four hours. A week had ten days. A month had three weeks, or thirty days. A year had twelve months, thirty-six weeks, or three-hundred and sixty days. The months in a year were Deepwinter, Sundawn, First Seed, Rainhand, Second Seed, Midyear, Summertide, Last Seed, Fading, Frostfall, Moonfeast, and Vintertide. The calendar was common knowledge to all in Norwich. The educated knew it because they were, well, educated. The non-educated usually knew it due to it's usefulness in farming or other practices. Brynyr wasn't formally educated, but due to his own rigorous research of both the arcane and the mundane, he may have known more than some of Norwich's own most educated professors.
..... As they traveled on that fourth day of their trek, they came across a company of the king's soldiers patrolling the roads, headed by a Major, who was obviously a paladin, by his silder and gold-lined armor, and obviously decorated sword. The rest of the troops, for the most part, wielded muskets and their red coats showed a more modern look than than some of the higher promoted soldiers. They passed by without any questioning, luckily. Brynyr was always nervous around paladins. In Norwich, arcane magic was extremely outlawed, and if Brynyr were to be outed as a mage, a firey execution was inevitable. At the end of the day's travel, they had nearly reached the town of Hillford, when Tilgrund suggested they make camp instead of heading into town. Ever paranoid. Not that Brynyr wasn't, himself. As they begin to set up camp, Brynyr went to make conversation, and to Brynyr, that usually meant he was about to teach Tilgrund something.
..... "Say, brother, have you every wondered how scholars think the Bekilk Desert was created? Or have you ever head of the Lost Library of Abrelim, said to be buried deep somewhere in the desert?"

The Hivemind of Hy-Brasil: Out Of Character (OOC)

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Re: The Hivemind of Hy-Brasil

Hello there! Whenever you are ready, I'd love to join your party! I can definitely keep up!


The Hivemind of Hy-Brasil

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