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Myth Bound: The Rise of Valor
Act 1: A Family Torn Apart by Cold Blade

Act 1: A Family Torn Apart by Cold Blade

The land of Skjoltrheim was on the precipice of war. Civil unrest stirred beneath the calm surface, as if the earth itself whispered of brewing storms. The realm, divided into eight Holds, teetered on the edge of destruction. Pride, ambition, and grudges roiled within each Hold, threatening to rip the land asunder. At the heart of this tension lay the city of Lumar, the capital of Skjoltrheim, where power was coveted by all. Located in the northwest, Lumar thrived by the warm seas even in winter's chill, surrounded by vast forests and crowned by snow-capped mountains that stood like frozen sentinels guarding the realm.

THE EIGHT HOLDS OF SKJOLTRHEIM:

1. Norrvik Hold: A bastion of fierce warriors, this northernmost Hold guards the icy tundra and frozen seas.

2. Fjallgard Hold: Nestled in the highlands, its stone fortresses and master blacksmiths are renowned throughout the realm.

3. Stormhavn Hold: A naval power dominating the eastern coast, where ships and sea raiders thrive.

4. Draugar Keep: A haunted Hold in the southern marshlands, filled with rumors of ancient undead and dark magics.

5. Helgardr Hold: A land of fertile plains, the breadbasket of the realm, though plagued by internal strife.

6. Vyrhall Hold: A wild, untamed region in the west, where dense forests hide dangerous beasts and sacred shrines.

7. Thundermount Hold: Located at the base of towering peaks, home to giant-folk and rich mining industries.

8. Ashmark Hold: An isolated volcanic region, where lava flows freely and the people worship strange fire gods.

Each Hold was marked by old rivalries, alliances, and ambitions, but all eyes turned to Lumar, the center of the storm, where a noble family stood on the edge of tragedy and chaos.

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THE AGE OF THE GODS AND THE SEEDS OF JEALOUSY

In the 10th Era of Dawn, a new age began with the arrival of the elves' gods to the lands of men. With their near-immortal lifespans and their ethereal beauty, the elves were revered by humans, and their gods, equally divine, were soon worshipped across the realm. Chief among them was Elutharion, the Starborne, a god of light, time, and eternity. Elutharion’s influence was felt in the stars, the changing seasons, and the deep currents of magic that flowed through the world. His wisdom was ancient and unmatched, making him a figure of awe to both elves and men.

However, humanity had their own deities, gods forged in the fires of their mortal struggles. Aetherion, the Stormfather, ruled the skies, wielding thunder and lightning as symbols of mortal destiny. Where Elutharion embodied timeless wisdom, Aetherion represented raw, unbridled energy—the storm that could either nurture life or destroy it.

Despite their differences, the Pact of the Two Peoples was formed, allowing both races to worship freely, believing that unity in faith would strengthen the fragile peace between elves and humans.

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THE PANTHEONS:

* Elven Gods:

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* Elutharion, the Starborne – God of light, time, and eternity.

* Lirael, the Moonweaver – Goddess of night, dreams, and fate.

* Sylaraen, the Greenwarden – God of forests, growth, and natural magic.

* Human Gods:

* Aetherion, the Stormfather – God of storms, thunder, and mortal destiny.

* Tyralla, the Flameheart – Goddess of fire, passion, and rebirth.

* Valdran, the Earthshaper – God of the mountains, stone, and endurance.

Yet beneath this surface harmony, a slow-burning jealousy grew among the human gods. As the humans increasingly turned to the elven deities for guidance, the human gods, proud and powerful, began to feel overshadowed by their elven counterparts. Aetherion especially, once the mightiest of gods in the eyes of his people, felt the bitter sting of fading reverence. The humans, in their admiration for the ageless elves, had forgotten the primal force of thunder and storm, the very elements that had once protected and nurtured them.

This growing discontent did not go unnoticed by the elves. Elutharion, wise as he was, sensed the imbalance. Yet, confident in his divine position, he believed that the humans would return to their gods in time. His indifference sowed the seeds of conflict, and soon whispers of betrayal filled the halls of the gods.

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A CITY’S CELEBRATION AMIDST A BREWING STORM

Despite the tension growing across Skjoltrheim, the capital city of Lumar found a reason to rejoice—Queen Eliziah was pregnant, and the news spread like wildfire through the realm. The streets of Lumar were draped in vibrant colors, filled with the sound of music, laughter, and the clamor of festivities. Festivals erupted to celebrate the unborn child, believed by many to be a blessing that would unify the fractured lands.

In preparation for the royal birth, merchants and travelers flocked to Lumar from every corner of Skjoltrheim and beyond. Stalls lined the streets, selling everything from exotic spices to enchanted trinkets, while performers danced and sang in honor of the queen's child. Priests and priestesses from every temple came to offer blessings, not only to the unborn heir but to the kingdom itself, praying for peace in the uncertain times ahead. Mages, both human wizards and elven elders, arrived to bestow magical blessings. Even the ancient Madremonte, the revered Mother of Dryads, emerged from her forest sanctuary to bless the royal child, an act that many saw as a sign of great significance.

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RISING CONFLICT: THE STORMTARGE

But as the queen’s pregnancy progressed, so too did the fractures within the realm. In the shadows of this celebration, civil war simmered. The faction known as the Stormtarge, led by the ambitious Vargrath Broadhorn, cousin to Tribeking Thorigg Whitemane, rose in rebellion. Their mission was clear: to free Skjoltrheim from the growing influence of the elves and their gods. They sought to restore the worship of only human deities, believing that Skjoltrheim had strayed too far from its roots.

As Lumar celebrated, the Stormtarge gathered strength, their banners flying high in the winds of dissent. What was once a mere whisper of rebellion had now become a roar, and Vargrath’s followers believed the time had come to strike. Skjoltrheim was about to be torn apart, not only by blades and shields but by the very faith that once united its people.

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End of Act 1: The celebration in Lumar stands in stark contrast to the growing unrest, as the seeds of rebellion and divine conflict begin to take root, setting the stage for the storm to come.

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