Chapter 1: The Continent of Aventuria

“I am proud to have sailed with the daring captain Asleif Foggwulf Phileasson during his legendary race against Beorn the Blinder. Nothing less than the title of King of the Seas was at stake back then. What wonders we witnessed, traveling the world at his side! But I will not sing Phileasson’s saga this time, even though it would be an honor. Today, I wish to tell you about what our eyes were allowed to see as we went from one adventure to the next, crossing blades with gruesome monsters and devious evildoers. “We sailed north from our homeland of Thorwal, city of free and fearless seafarers. Many miles we traveled through the cold waters of Ifirn’s Ocean until we reached the ice. It wasn’t long before we saw the frigid plains of the High North. Beyond Yeti Land, where the white snowbugbears dwell, lies a frozen world seen by few humans. Cold and darkness reign in the Grimmfrost Wastes, interrupted only by the pale flicker of Ifirn’s Lights. There are no human settlements this far north, but we found vestiges of the secretive high elves, who called this hostile land their home a long time ago. Explorers have found traces of their presence everywhere on the continent, no matter which way they traveled. “As we sailed back south, we stopped at the well-fortified trading town of Riva. From there we followed the River Kvill through frost-covered, boggy marshland. We left the village of Gerasim, which is home to many elves, behind us, and crossed the Yellow Sickle at Raven’s Pass. Finally we reached the Green Plains via old paths used by the nomadic Nivese and their herds of karan deer. We marched through the never-ending vastness of the steppe to the southeast, in the direction of tree-covered Bornland, where simple folk endure hardships under the whips of their nobles. O Swafnir, what sort of land is that, in which women and men cannot live free?

We soon came upon its capital city, Festum—an old and mighty trading port on the Tobrien Sea—and continued south until we reached magnificent Vallusa on the Misa River. We had to crane our necks to appreciate the full skill of its architects, whose buildings stretch into the sky like towers. From Vallusa we traveled to the largest realm of men in Aventuria—the New Realm or Middenrealm. Tobrien was the first province through which we passed. It is an old and primitive land, bordered on the east by the sea and on the west by the peaks of the Dragon Stones and the Black Sickle. I can tell you that the Dragon Stones are aptly named. No one would dare deny those mighty, winged beings their dominion, which has endured for millennia. I now know why we name our dragon ships after them. Nobody stands in their way. Well, a sworn fellowship of dwarves might, but how often do you see something like that at sea?

We set out to sea again from the Tobrien harbor town of Mendena. It was bliss, let me tell you, for I had been stuck on dry land for far too long.

The Sea of Pearls is always treacherous, but our island destination lies to the east of the continent, so we dared it. The Maraskan jungles teem with numerous abominations that devour or sting everything. Far stranger than the many and often poisonous creatures are the people who dwell there. They love their freedom more than anything, but they are not entirely right in the head: They think the world is a perfect discus! We found what we were looking for on the island–a horror from ancient times–but I will tell of this another time. We soon left Maraskan and the other coastal islands behind. Remember my words: the Sea of Pearls is treacherous. Beware of areas coated in dark-blue seaweed– many ships never leave the Sargasso Sea! We sailed into the Gulf of Tuzak and traveled to the old city of Khunchom in the Lands of the Tulamydes–what splendor we beheld! Pleasantly warm throughout the year and with sweet fruit trees everywhere, the city supports a vast population.

Yet the interior of the continent is a vast, empty desert. Beyond burning sand and scorching heat, the Khôm offers little. Still we wanted to travel there. But first we passed through Mhanadistan, where time-honored Fasar lies in the shadows of the mighty peaks of the Wall of Rashtul. The oldest city of man in the world, Fasar’s splendid palaces stand next to squat clay huts. Money rules this city. The mighty enforce their influence with mercenaries and violence compels the poor in Fasar’s alleys. From there, we trekked through the searing desert and found traces of ancient settlements along the way.

How glad I was when we finally left that parched land! We traveled through the Fairfield, where you find cities of splendor in every direction. The inhabitants think highly of themselves and even think their people were first settlers of Aventuria. Blind fools, I say! Everyone knows that our ancestors settled this land much earlier, by Swafnir’s name!

Our journey led us into the swamps over a rough road to Loch Harodrôl and into the rainforests of the south. Dark-skinned forest people and scaly lizardfolk who call themselves the Achaz live there. The Achaz claim they once ruled the world and, after seeing their overgrown temple complexes, I begin to believe them. But not even the jungles and swamps of Meridiana could keep us from our race; we had to return home to Thorwal ahead of Beorn the Blinder! So we traveled to the west, into the Sea of Seven Winds. As we sailed, we passed through the borders of the world and reached behind the Mists to see the ancient wonders of the high elves, whose traces we had discovered again and again across the world.

Finally our journey ended there, where it had begun–in Thorwal. You ask who won the race. Phileasson, of course! Who, you ask? Well then, I guess I have to recount the entire saga, after all!”
—Ohm Follker, skald on the legendary expedition of Asleif Foggwulf Phileasson, the Thorwaler captain of the Sea Eagle