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A great disaster can be the catalyst of the greatest change. Catastrophic events offer opportunities for something new, something wonderfully different. Another beginning.
It was mankind’s hubris that led our world to experience the wrath of a disturbed volcano. The unrivalled pyroclastic flow covered our land in blue ash. An event that would take its place in history as The Ashfall.
Survivors of the eruption fled the poisonous dust by packing themselves into shelters, climbing mountains, and sailing far, far away. Although humanity endured, there was no escaping from the inevitable change brought to the world. An opportunity offered was accepted. The beginning of something new dawned, it was a phenomenon human eyes had never seen before.
When it was safe for humanity to return, they found a new ecosystem had risen from the great disaster. No one can tell with certainty where these creatures came from, but there have been theories they developed out of the ashes. Few say it was the dragons that awoke them, while some simply assume they appeared out of magic.
Their origin may be a mystery lost to us, but we’ve learned to coexist with them. Pixelmon are incredibly varied and engage with humanity in their own ways. They are monsters we hunt, collect and combat with. They are companions as we explore the world of Nova Thera. Friends and enemies who bring us together, as they balance the order between our four nations. This duelling ritual keeps our self-destruction at bay.
The Trainers of Nova Thera also combat each other with Pixelmon for honour, glory, and prize. They traverse Nova Thera to find and capture wild Pixelmon. If they successfully form a bond with a Pixelmon, they can begin raising it in earnest to become a mighty combatant.
But, the lands of Nova Thera offer more than just Pixelmon. Out there are strange and rare resources, individuals who require aid, and the secrets to answering the mysteries of this world. Hunting for wild Pixelmon is a task only the bravest accept, as you must be skilled in tracking and traversal across the land. Should you succeed, you may very well find a reliable companion who will never leave your side.
Sometimes, a great disaster can be the catalyst of the greatest change. This has indeed happened with the dawn of Pixelmon.
Lifetender architecture is a mix of traditional log cabin construction and the use of natural elements such as living trees and mushrooms. While the interlocking wood cabins can be built by nearly anyone with a sharp enough axe and enough time on their hands, building, or rather growing, the living homes require a strong bond with the various magic-wielding creatures of Nova Thera, and the skill to direct them to create what is needed.
Starting with the cabins, they’re typically built from trees felled by nature itself, such as during storms. This means that even brand-new buildings can look somewhat old.
Lifetender cabins are carved to interlock at each end, providing a sturdy frame without the need for iron nails. If situated in a high place such as along the branches of The Tree, they’ll often have a balcony or terrace extending beyond the branch itself, floating freely above the ground far, far below.
The roofs of these houses are covered with a layer of soil, and in that soil, the Lifetenders grow flowers and other plants, or even cultivate small crops. As most houses aren’t painted at all, this is how they decorate their homes. A family might grow a certain type of flower in a specific pattern, and others may just allow nature to dictate what plants grow there and how they do so.
Other than these cabins, some homes and structures are shaped by a Lifetender alongside the creatures of the land in which they live. If they live in the woods, these buildings often take the form of extensions of trees and other plants, while in the open plains, it might well be an igloo-like creation shaped from earth and stone. These contrast the cabins, yet the two styles have one thing in common — they blend together with the nature around them, but in different ways.
The Lifetenders are very spiritual people and carry many traditions, and the most popular are the ones connected to a cycle or duality. Every season brings its own event.
The Flourishing, sometimes called the cycle of the mind, is how Lifetenders welcome spring. Rather than picking flowers to bring home, each family, couple, or trainer and their bonded companion will search for a flower they particularly like. This journey can take minutes or days.
When they find their flower, they meditate to reflect on the things that matter to them. After this meditation, they'll sing a song to welcome spring, some of these songs being so ancient that the language they're singing in has been forgotten. The song's sounds and message are known, but each word has lost its translation. Some find this almost symbolic, like each indistinguishable leaf in a distant tree.
Summer is the Expression, the cycle of creativity and dreams. The upper families celebrate with a grand ball on warm nights, whereas the other Lifetenders celebrate in smaller groups with performative dances and feasting. Many children draw art of their wishes, and the elder members of the family gift the children with items or advice that will aid them in pursuing their dreams.
Autumn is the Exchange, the cycle of give and take. With summer concluded, so does the height of life when nature is most active and must ready itself for the approaching winter. Rainbow rice is prepared as a ceremonial offering at the start of Autumn. The sticky rice is cooked with fruits, beans, or spices to produce a bowl in several striking colours. These rice bowls are then shaped into squares, and an impression of The Tree is pressed into them.
Lifetenders will leave the rainbow rice bowls on a mat outside for nature to accept. They will return much later to collect the leftovers for their dinner. If a creature ate some or all of a Lifetender family's offerings, then they were believed to be blessed the following year. If the red rice is eaten, the blessing is for good health while green rice symbolises excellent luck and yellow represents wealth.
Winter is the Focus, the cycle of the body. Lifetenders are keenly aware of their impact on nature through the existence of their civilisation. Therefore, they strive to minimise any damage to nature by proactively tending to the land and reducing their consumption. Lifetenders practice intermittent fasting during the Focus and only eat one meal every two to three days.
In addition to fasting, many take the time to tend to the forest or land on which they live. The belief is that through discipline during the winter, the land has time to heal for the arrival of the following year. Members of the upper families in The Tree do not often leave their homes during the winter, but only they know why.
Marriage is the cycle of the Sun and Moon. Opposites attract and amplify one another. When two individuals wish to join in marriage, they must journey together in the wild. They camp and survive together for a complete cycle of the moon without additional assistance.
Most couples find that the challenge strengthens their bond by working together as a team to support each other. When they return, the marriage is finalised and officially recognised. For couples who return early or discover incompatibilities with their partner, they cancel the marriage, with no hard feelings or strings attached. Such is life, as they might say.
The upper families on the other hand, have adopted the tradition where prospective couples live together in a home on the lower branches. Their respective families will provide food, but that is the limit of their support.
Birth is considered the cycle of Water. Lifetender children are often born in water, be it a bath or a soothing river. A mother is taken to a body of water when she goes into labour. A fire is always prepared with warm towels and aides present to tend to the mother and child after the event.
While births are the cycle of Water, death is the cycle of Earth. Lifetender funerals epitomise their connection to the land and believe their souls will continue there long after death. Their belief in cycles extends to the concept of souls. The soul does not die, but changes form, like a seed escaping its shell.
A burial is held for the deceased, who is buried along with a seed of a tree. The type of seed chosen can be personally selected by the deceased ahead of time and the specific seed type chosen will usually be based on family tradition. If the desired seed is unknown, then a guess is made on behalf of the individual. The memorial tree that will grow from the burial location is considered to house that person's soul. Friends and family will often wrap this tree in cloth or rope to denote its importance and warn others about its sentimental value.
Damaging such a tree or harvesting food from it is considered a grave offence, though collecting fallen fruit if the tree bore any, is considered an act of reverence. When a memorial tree eventually falls, the Lifetenders believe the soul has rejoined the collective consciousness of the world.
The Lifetenders have the most organic designs for their clothing and armour, meaning it's often difficult to tell where living weave ends and plain old textile begins. However, the degree to which this is true varies greatly, where some communities may be indistinguishable from the nearby flora, while others dress in simple clothing in various earthy colours ranging from greens to autumnal reds.
The weaves they make are almost exclusively made from plant fibre, usually harvested from dead or dying plants, or in such a way as to not cause undue damage to whatever plant they’re taking the material from. While Lifetenders tend to avoid hunting for food, whenever they do, the hide of their hunt is typically fashioned into tough leather, to be used for making clothing, armour, or other useful equipment.
When it comes to designing armour, their designs are unique compared to the armour made by the other tribes. Lifetender armour places a much heavier emphasis on blending in with the environment, and while some suits of armour can look rather plain, many incorporate living material from the area in which that particular Lifetender expects to fight. For instance, if a Lifetender lives in the Everwood; a forest of mild autumns and snow-free winters, the plant life they carry with them will help them blend into the undergrowth or the treetops, allowing them to gain the upper hand while scouting or during a confrontation.
This is not to say that their armour can’t take a hit. In fact, the tough leathers and interleaving plates can keep the bearer safe from many things. However, the Lifetenders have identified this ability to camouflage themselves as an advantage and make use of it whenever they can.
The duality of Lifetender’s social structure has created two forms of musical expression.
For most Lifetenders, music is used as a guide to explore one’s connection with the world. There is a flow to their sound with a strong emphasis on harmonies. Their songs are usually performed during meditation for oneself to instil calmness. Lifetenders also use chanting and humming, but rarely any vocals.
The steel tongue drum is the preferred instrument for meditation, and Lifetenders personalise them as a form of expression. These impressive drums make for great conversation starters. The meditation music is usually played in isolation to strengthen one’s connection with the world around them. Partners will often perform together to improve their bond, particularly on one’s anniversary.
The second style of music makes use of string instruments accompanied by a grand piano. However, it is rare to see a piano outside the middle and upper families of the Lifetenders. This expensive status symbol is prized due to the complexity of its construction, difficulty in transporting it up The Tree, and the years of practice required to master it.
Heirs to families learn the grand piano to showcase their potential as future heads of the family. Whenever a family hosts a ball, the head or the upcoming heir will begin the dance with a solo piano performance supported by string instruments played at the beginning of the solo.
Other popular instruments among the Lifetenders are harps, bells, and flutes.
The average Lifetender diet is predominantly vegetable-based, but it is not exclusively vegetarian. Life in the forest takes many forms and they all play their part in the food chain. The primary meat of the Lifetenders is chicken due to the ease of raising them and the versatility of the eggs they provide. This humble lifestyle is contrasted by the desires of the middle and upper families. They are more prone to importing exotic foods to offer at their banquets and balls. Universally though, fruits are loved by all and considered an essential dessert ingredient to celebrate the end of a meal. The eating of the fruit is a reminder of the blessings from The Tree and the Everwood.
At the centre of Everwood stands the natural wonder that is The Tree. While the other tribes have a few different titles for it, the Lifetenders who live in its boughs would never be so arrogant as to assume that they should be the ones to name such a marvel. hence, to them, it is simply The Tree. Since nothing can truly compare, nothing can be confused with it.
In the crown of The Tree, the Lifetender capital is found. It has no name either, so associated with its location that mentioning it more or less mentions the city. They’re so intertwined that there simply is no point in making a distinction between the two.
The city is built on the massive branches and mushrooms that festoon the grand being, log cabins fashioned from reclaimed timber, fallen twigs from The Tree itself as well as lumber felled by storm or hand in the forests below. Some dwellings are less mundane in their construction, created by a human and their bonded creature, the former guiding the magic of the latter to shape homes, businesses and social spaces.
To get to this place, you must fly or ascend the long, arduous climb along The Tree’s trunk. The Lifetenders have added rope ladders and by using a combination of the platform-like mushrooms and added construction where needed, there are plenty of opportunities for anyone doing so to rest. The ladders themselves are frequently replaced, but despite these precautions, falls do happen on rare occasions.
Viss Rathorn is the head of her family charged with defending the Lifetender’s nation. Respected by those under her command, those who have met her describe the commander as quiet, sharp, and unrelenting in her pursuit of duty. While Viss’s captains organise the Watchers and Striders, the Guardians answer directly to her.
Eulla Primrose was one of the founding members of the noble system for the Lifetenders. The Primrose family is positioned at the top, literally and figuratively, alongside the Marigolds. Eulla, and her friend Deuris, were the first to become Voices of The Tree and leaders of religious activities for the Lifetenders. Not much is known about her except that she was one of the few children among the survivors who discovered The Tree.
Deuris Marigold was one of the founding members of the noble system for the Lifetenders. The Marigold family is positioned at the top, literally and figuratively, alongside the Primroses. Deuris, and his friend Eulla, were the first to become Voices of The Tree and leaders of religious activities for the Lifetenders. Not much is known about him except that he was one of the few children among the survivors who discovered The Tree.
Waveborne buildings are often constructed from reclaimed, decommissioned ships or wrecks, assuming that at least a portion of the hull is intact enough to be used in such a way. The streets of Seahome are a prime example of this, the cramped, damp alleys flanked by these houses packed closely together, the walkways themselves shaded from the sun under sailcloth dyed in a myriad of colours.
Despite what one might think initially, these recovered ships aren’t left to decay into a dilapidated shanty town. No, work is put into each one, replacing rotted timber where needed. Personal touches are also added to each home, store and building, such as serpents painted and carved into the wood while still preserving the original ornamentation of the ship. In this way, Waveborne cities are both a memorial to their way of life and those that came before, as well as a celebration of their culture.
Aside from the intricate, often painted carvings in the wood itself, a building’s occupants will often engage in a bit of boasting, by putting the trophies from their most memorable catches or events on the outside of their house where everyone may see them at any time. Stealing or destroying such a trophy is considered to be one of the lowest, most wretched things someone could do. Fortunately, the social stigma associated with such a crime is powerful enough to prevent the vast majority of such acts.
All in all, this makes each Waveborne building a character in its own right. The ship it was based on has its own story, and with time, yet more tales of great deeds and important events will decorate the buildings, new trophies added and sagas carved with every passing generation.
The Waveborne are perhaps the most superstitious of the four nations. It is an understandable coping mechanism when the majority of their lives are at the mercy of the unpredictable seas. Sailors often develop peculiar habits or practices to improve their fortune. The one universal tradition is the Lord’s Offering. When a Leviathan graces a vessel with its presence, the sailors offer food to these mythical creatures.
The Waveborne believe that every wave of the ocean is the water itself bowing in respect to these lords of The Great Deep, and by offering them a gift of food, they may be blessed with gentle seas. Even though these encounters are rare, all ships have an offering ready. Only in dire situations will a crew eat their offering, and many fear it risks a curse, should a Leviathan find them empty-handed.
An exceptionally grand Waveborne event is the Riverrun. The biannual marathon begins as Seahome approaches the Alrettian River. The goal of the Riverrun is for the participants to swim to the coastline, up the river, and dive into the lake in search of Alretta pearls. It's an endurance swimming contest where setting foot on land or ship is forbidden, resulting in immediate disqualification.
Once they arrive at Lake Alretta, they dive to search for pearls from oysters that only live in the brackish water. The hunt for pearls is considered the most challenging part of the contest. Repetitive dives strain the body and lungs, whereas the luck involved in finding and selecting the correct oyster challenges the contestant’s patience. The return journey is the final challenge, and the winner is the first to bring a pearl back to Seahome. The winner will receive gifts from each of the Clades, and their name will be carved into Seahome's prow alongside those of other prominent Waveborne.
While there is only one winner in the race, there is still a secondary contest that the other swimmers may win. As Alretta pearls can come in many sizes and swirls of colour, every pearl is measured and a prize is gifted to whoever found the grandest of them all. The stunning orb then joins the previous winning pearls in the treasure vault of Seahome. Even those who try and make a valiant effort but ultimately fail are treated to a celebration, as simply undertaking the Riverrun and doing well is an achievement in its own right.
The Abyssal Broth Showdown is another Waveborne contest that many villages enjoy hosting. The famous dish is known for its varied ingredients and signature spiciness. Therefore the experimentation to create the ultimate abyssal broth recipe is a way to raise people's spirits before they must endure winter.
The timing matches up with the start of the winter crab hunting season. It's a popular event because the winning recipe is publicly shared; thus, sailors can collect the ingredients to recreate for themselves while hunting crabs on long voyages. Astute businessmen will pay attention to see which recipes have won and which items will soon be in high demand. Many have made a fortune by stocking their inventory appropriately.
Waveborne marriage carries two roles, symbolised as the anchor and the sail. Each partner decides which lifestyle is best suited for the situation. It's not an exclusively binary choice, but a balance between the two lifestyles is the most common practice.
The role of the anchor is to stand firm, be it at a village or on Seahome, and maintain a reliable household for the family. Anchors are the supporters who can be depended on and they may run a local business on land. The role of the sail is to set out and take risks. They seek out treasure, prey, and opportunity in the world, supporting their families by braving the seas in search of all they have to offer. Sails carry the expectation of eventually accepting their roles as teachers, using their experience to guide the next generation. A married couple can consist of dual sails, anchors or a combination of the two.
Waveborne birth is an intense affair. Due to the high mutation rate among these people, a couple can never be sure of what happens after childbirth. Should the child be born with features outside of the parents’ clade, it is tradition to offer the child to the clade where it belongs.
As expected, this practice causes intense stress for those involved, even if it's believed in the child's best interests. Families who cannot accept this outcome will often exile themselves and raise their children in isolation on the coastlines. Waveborne do not treat self-exiled families with contempt, and the child in question will always be welcomed back by the clades should they choose to do so.
When parents agree to allow their newborn to be adopted by another clade, they're given priority for the subsequent adoption. Clades treat their members as one family, and this connection runs strong for the entire nation. There is strength in unity, and the sea favours the strong. Even between clades, there is a sibling dynamic to their rivalries.
To the Waveborne, death sustains life. The ocean feeds them, and they must provide for her in return when their time comes. As such, the bodies of the Waveborne are offered to the ocean. If the situation allows it, the crew will collect an item of significance from the body before setting it free to the depths of the sea.
Sometimes, this item is selected from the individuals' possessions onboard, usually rings or other small goods. This item is entrusted to the captain, who now bears the duty to deliver it, and the news of the passing, to the family or friends of the deceased. Later that day, the crew will celebrate the person's life. This funeral celebration involves a lot of storytelling about the best memories each person has of the deceased. The recipients of the news will perform the same celebration of life once they learn of the person’s fate.
If a person goes missing, a guiding stone is made on the anniversary of their disappearance. This runestone carries the hope that the lost soul may return home. When a missing person returns, their guiding stone is gifted to them as a reminder of those who thought of them in their absence. The fortunate sailor tosses a coin into the sea as a show of thanks for allowing them to return to their loved ones.
Being so closely connected to the sea, the Waveborne’s clothing often draws inspiration from the oceans, lakes, rivers and their denizens. Their clothing is often imbued with various materials to help with repelling water, allowing them to stay warm even in the most hostile of seas.
The textiles themselves are often fairly simple, dyed in various shades of blue, dark greens similar to the colour of dried seaweed, or even stark white colours resembling the ice and snow of the north seas. Regardless of the colour, their garments feature extensive use of decorations, inspired by the creatures of the water, serpents and the like. These patterns will often wind and snake their way along collars, sleeves, cloaks and robes, usually in a colour contrasting the clothing itself.
Much like the Wingfolk, the Waveborne are consummate merchants, negotiating vast distances to ferry goods and people from one place to another. This means that they’ll often incorporate elements and ideas from the other tribes, leaving their own culture in a constant state of flux, changing and flowing with the times depending on who they happen to be trading more or less with at any given moment in history.
As far as their armour is concerned, they tend to favour light, elegant designs that allow them to swim more or less unimpeded, or that at the very least don’t drag them to the bottom like a millstone around their neck would if they wind up going overboard.
While they’re certainly capable of producing plate armour, they usually end up making various forms of scale mail, where the thickness of the individual scales can be varied greatly to keep the weight down. Their armourers often base the designs of the scales in their work on local fish, allowing their work to be easily identified by just looking at the shape of the scales.
The Waveborne understand they are at the mercy of the sea. She gives and takes, depending on her mood. The use of music is a form of stress management to counterbalance the tempers of this fickle mistress.
During windless days, when sailors must wait, the crew perform shanties to raise their morale (usually aided with a couple of drinks). These shanties are accompanied by foot stamping, rail bashing and clapping. Upbeat songs improve morale on these long voyages. Each clade has its own shanties that its members enjoy sharing with others. The annual rulership exchange ceremony on Seahome is only complete upon hearing the beloved song of the new ruling clade. The representatives of the other clades sing along as a gesture of harmony and goodwill, and so the cycle rolls on.
When facing challenging times, such as navigating storms, the crew unifies with a chant to synchronise better, maintain focus, and push through the peril. These songs often reflect the harsh reality of life at sea and don't brush off the difficulties ahead, hence the lyrics usually feature an undertone of triumph through struggle.
Waveborne music is most well known for its group performances, but many sailors sail alone and have songs to suit such a lifestyle. Harmonicas and concertinas are popular choices for the lone sailor.
Other popular instruments among the Waveborne are the tambourine drum, fiddle, guitar, and harmonica. The human body is also an instrument as songs are often accompanied by stamping, clapping, slapping, and singing.
The Waveborne are not all bound to the sea, though their culture and way of life are most certainly connected. Their villages exist along coastlines and even inland along rivers. As such, there exist some traditional forms of agriculture as their fleets of vessels require a constant supply of food.
Potatoes are a favoured ingredient due to their longevity and suitability for storage in dark, cold areas. Waveborne villages will also preserve foods to sell to sailors, such as dried fruits and vegetables.
Anyone who has sailed on a Waveborne ship has probably experienced a bowl of the famous abyssal broth. This rich, spicy hotpot is made with whatever was the catch of the day as the main ingredient. While the catch is being prepared, a diced onion is softened in a pot with some oil. This is soon followed by chillies that have been thinly sliced (sailors often compare their strength by how many chillies they can handle). Following the chillies, all manner of available vegetables are added depending on what the crew could stock up on before setting sail. Preserved ingredients such as dried tomatoes, mushrooms, and seaweed are rehydrated in a bowl of fresh water, then added to the onion-chilli mix. Once the mix comes to a boil, the prepared seafood is added. A lid is placed over the pot and the mix is left to cook for several minutes, with sea salt added to round out the flavour. Crews often experiment and vary the ingredients to prepare for the annual abyssal broth showdown.
Seahome is the capital of the Waveborne, a floating city that started as a few rafts lashed together. These days it truly is a city, its winding streets linking homes fashioned from decommissioned ships and materials from the mainland. Seahome drifts atop the currents around the lands in a predictable pattern, never remaining in one place.
This makes trading with Seahome somewhat difficult, as the sailors have to be aware of this cycle and keep good track of time in order to actually find it. As such, most coastal towns and settlements, or people inland who wish to trade, try to keep very accurate calendars, so they’ll know when Seahome’s close by.
This is, of course, a double-edged sword. Those who are diligent can make good use of this pattern to make trade even more efficient, but it also means that trading is a very seasonal thing, dependent on where Seahome is at any given time.
The city itself is in many places cramped, the winding paths shaded by looming buildings and sailcloth dyed in all manner of colours stretched between them to offer shelter from the sometimes merciless sun. The buildings are often lavished with intricate wood carvings and trophies, each telling a tale of a member of that household.
It’s a cultural melting pot, and many are drawn to it by the allure and mystique of a city that’s always on the move. Here ideas and information are exchanged as often as goods, and it’s rare to see anyone living in Seahome for any length of time without picking something up from the Waveborne or another tribe.
Perriet Flounder is a living legend and the eighth captain of the Stormscar Merry, the most famed treasure-hunting ship in Nova Thera. The Merry is a ship belonging to the Chitin clade and passed down to a successor raised by the previous captain. Perrier Flounder is rapidly ascending towards fame as the most successful captain to helm her. Flounder personally joins his crews on deepsea dives to search the depths for relics and treasures of the old world. A Seahome joke, partially steeped in truth, is that the Great Library owes an entire wing dedicated to Flounder’s discoveries.
Chicain Scally earned their fame by discovering the largest pearl in the Riverrun, almost as large as the palm of their hand. After winning the contest, Chicain threw their pearl back into the sea, declaring that such a prize could only belong to her. Their actions sparked a fierce debate, especially from the late-arriving contestants. The rulership of Seahome found a way to appease everyone. A secondary contest to the Riverrun event to discover the grandest pearl of the run.
Triumvian architecture is characterised by masonry and iron, geometric designs and rugged pragmatism. Stone is skillfully cut into perfect building material, or underground homes and businesses are excavated and built by the Delvers’ Guild, who count plenty of expert masons among their number. These buildings are adorned in a multitude of ways. This includes angular, often painted carvings in the stone itself as well as decorations fashioned by the Steelmiths from wrought iron, including things like shop signs and window boxes for flowers.
The buildings themselves are often two stories tall, with a fireplace located at the centre of the first floor. The chimneys are often very overbuilt, the additional mass allowing the stone to better retain heat and warm the home. After all, even with the geothermal heating, the Rings can often experience bitterly cold winters, and that’s true for many places in the world that Triumvians call home.
The roofs of their structures are often tiled and, depending on what the building’s purpose is, it may be painted in accordance with a colour code, making its use easily distinguishable even at a distance where one might not be able to read a sign. Black tiles denote a government building of some kind, such as a local guild hall, red roofs belong to blacksmiths, dark green indicates a place of healing, blue is for general goods, domestic or imported, while amber and brown mark bakers and butchers respectively.
Triumvian settlements are typically built using a grid system. This system is planned out in detail ahead of time to make it easier to navigate and to reduce the danger posed by fires, while the stone and tile construction also reduces those risks. Even the Rings follow a grid system despite the circular layout of the city, each individual ring planned with careful attention.
Triumvian culture enjoys flowers and colours, and as such it’s not at all uncommon for houses and businesses to grow flowers in window boxes. The wealthier the business, organisation or family, the more exotic the flowers.
The Triumvirate don’t have many days of celebration, but one of their grandest is the annual Guildpact Days festival. Starting during the summer solstice and continuing for a week, the Guildpact Days are when the bond between the guilds is celebrated and renewed with a celebration of colour, music, food and craftsmanship displays.
It begins with a parade that moves through the entire city, every street, whether rich or poor. Once it reaches its destination, the open plaza at the centre of the city, that’s when the feasting begins. Here, artisans from each guild present works that pay tribute to the other guilds or to their unity as a whole.
The bonded companions of the guild members are guests of honour at the festival. Much of the engineering designed by the Triumvians is only possible thanks to the unique abilities of these guild members, so the Triumvians recognise this importance by spoiling them with excellent food. The intensity of the festival attracts travellers from other nations, primarily merchants and scholars keen to witness the event as it is a rare chance to witness the Triumvians easing up on their inhibitions and finally partying.
Kaia’s Embrace is held on the winter solstice, the darkest day of the year, and is a ceremonial performance to pay respects to Mout Kaia, The Lonely Queen of the North Sky. Pyres are prepared in village squares, with the largest in the Rings of Cinder. These bonfires can only begin with a flame born from the mountain’s lava.
A few days before the festival, several spires are lit from the lavastreams outside of the Rings of Cinder. The smouldering embers are collected into cans by entrusted runners from the other Triumvian cities. They race back home to deliver the embers to the awaiting pyres and crowd. It is considered bad luck if the ember goes out or the runner fails to arrive before sunset.
The event starts at dusk, and each ceremony step holds symbolic importance. Six men, usually two from each guild, will play on giant drums while the torchbearer lights the bonfire. This represents the people’s hearts, enduring as the flame of creation shapes them.
A woman will slowly walk around the bonfire playing the violaharp and singing a traditional song as the drums continue to support her in the background. The singer symbolises Kaia gifting creativity and opportunity to those who embrace her warmth. While she sings, food is distributed to the crowd in lidded plates that are not to be opened until the song is complete.
As she sings her final verse, the six men build up the intensity of their drum playing, beating in unison until a sudden stop. The silence of the crowd and the roaring flames is a reminder of the importance of one’s life and the significance of leaving a proud legacy. The crowd cheers and everyone begins eating, drinking, and celebrating until sunrise.
Triumvian marriage follows two steps: engagement and confirmation. The one who initiates the proposal offers a handmade wedding band to their prospective partner. If accepted, the other partner begins work on a wedding band in return. Once both rings are completed, a simple marriage ceremony is held with friends and family. Guild leaders are also invited. Their role is to accept the relevant legal documents, but if the leaders are unavailable, then the couple will take the forms to the guilds at the earliest opportunity.
Childbirth is celebrated with the mother's health in mind. She becomes the guest of honour in the household for an entire month. Her duty is to rest and recover. Everything else is taken care of for her, such as having the first choice for every meal. Children celebrate their mother’s birthday by preparing her favourite dish to honour the hardship she endured to bring them into this world.
The Triumvians prepare for funerals with a quiet focus. A unique urn is crafted, with the deceased's name and legacy engraved upon it. Friends and family will gather for the cremation, then a person of significance will carry the urn, now filled with ash, to place it in the guild's mausoleum.
The rows of urns stretch deep into the mountain. Each row begins with a bust of the guild leader from that time. The bust sits on a glass box containing that leader's ashes. Symbolically, it represents that, even in death, the leaders continue their duty to those who passed on during their watch. Only the best Delvers work in such a sacred place whenever the mausoleums need expansion.
When it comes to gift giving, it is essential that the gift requires vast effort or significant risk to create or find. It then takes on a more spiritual value in that it is a token of the giver's dedication and the hardships they are willing to endure for the recipient. Simply put, Triumvians value effort. A gift without commitment behind it isn't worth giving or receiving, but gifts with such intent certainly are.
Almost all Triumvians carry memory beads. Each bead signifies the memory of a particular event, person, or anything important to its bearer. For instance, forming one's first bond with a wild beast would be an event worthy of such a bead. Anyone who understands this fact can use this to initiate a conversation with a Triumvian. However, it is best to ask politely, as any bead could be a triumph or a tragedy.
Triumvian clothing is as tough as the Triumvians themselves. The durable, dense and heavy weaves they make are often able to make it through years of use without repair. Paired with extensive use of heavily reinforced leather, often stitched several times at every seam, their garb’s incredible longevity does however come at a cost. — the time and effort required to make it drives the price up much higher than one might expect compared to the clothing prices of the other tribes.
Despite their overarching ideology of function over form, they appreciate craft as an art and, by extension, the art that craft can fashion. When it comes to colour, they often use reds, deep oranges and dark yellows along with charcoal grey and black, though those living in the Rings of Cinder will often incorporate some white in homage to the glaciers surrounding their home that grant them the water they need to survive. When decorating their garb they’ll often use metal wire and leaf, and embossed leather made into the angular, geometric patterns that are the Triumvirate’s hallmark.
As for their armour, the artisans of the Steelsmiths’ Guild create the most intricate, well-engineered full-plate suits out of all the tribes. The quality of their metalwork allows them to forge larger single pieces, their skill being such that they can vary the thickness of that single piece across the forging. This means that they can cover every limb and even most of a person’s joints with steel plate, supplemented by heavy leather, chain mail and weave, without impeding their range of motion too much.
Such a suit is heavy to the point of requiring the wearer to condition themselves to avoid exhaustion, but once they have, they can remain surprisingly mobile given the sheer amount of metal they wear. These suits are typically lavished with detail and artistic touches, including geometric patterns and engravings, often dyed and blackened to suit the artisan’s or the customer’s tastes.
The Triumvirate are hardy stoic people, and their music reflects their culture of taking action to provide value. Powerful and intense performances convey the effort they put into their determined lifestyle.
Triumvians rarely play alone. Guild members often will form musical groups, combining varied instruments to create music that would be impossible for an individual to produce on their own. Triumvian orchestra groups can comprise members from many or all of the guilds.
Triumvians can build, store, and maintain complex instruments, allowing these orchestras to form. Brass instruments are a favourite as many Triumvians from the Steelsmiths’ Guild have learnt how to shape one. There is even an organ in the Rings of Cinder designed by the famous Marcus Law, though only a few possess the knowledge to play it.
The key harp is their most culturally significant instrument and is played during special occasions such as weddings, funerals, and festivals. It is a stringed instrument controlled with a bow in one hand and mechanical finger presses that bend the strings at certain positions. An artist spends their entire life learning to master this complex instrument.
A recommended way to watch a key harp performance is to join the Triumvian Festival of Warmth. This annual event combines one metre-volcano drums, played with a rod in each hand alongside with the key harp to begin the new solstice with good fortune. The intensity of the drums offers the ideal complement to the delicate key harp and its graceful melody.
Other popular instruments among the Triumvirans are horns, trumpets, violins, cellos, double basses, drums, and cymbals.
Mount Kaia’s ancient volcanic activities enriched the soil of the surrounding lands, making them ideal for agriculture. Unfortunately, this does not hold true for topsoil closer to the volcano itself.
The Triumvirate has divided its agriculture into two sectors. The remote grasslands raise livestock, while the plant-based foods are grown close to the Rings of Cinder. These farms are supported through a complex system of underground irrigation, channels of lava and meltwater to heat and water their crops.
Mimic Delights are a famous sweet from the Triumvirate and are particularly loved by children. The name is derived from the fact that visually they are identical and the contents are unknowable until you try one. A Mimic Delight is a very small doughnut ball filled with a variety of jams or flavoured creams. An average adult person can hold three or four delights in the palm of one hand. Some bakeries have adopted a children’s game where, optionally, one delight in the packet contains a chilli mix.
At the foot of Mount Kaia lie the Rings of Cinder, the capital of the Triumvirate. Their ancestral home and seat of government, it is here that the Triumvirate was first formed many generations ago.
The city itself is the zenith of Triumvian engineering, fed with water and warmth by channels cut into the stony ground. Funelling lava to the nearby glaciers that surround the mountain and the city, the heat melts the ice, and the runoff is collected and led into the city via this canal network. The masonry isn’t limited to the canals, but the buildings too are constructed from stone, skillfully cut and shaped into perfect building material.
Divided into the rings that give it its name, the Ring of Guilds located at the edge of the city is where the city’s industry, as well as the Hall of the Guildpact, is located. This protects the inner rings, such as the Ring of Residence, where the citizens live, from the cold, glacial winds. Beyond the Ring of Residence lies the Ring of Easement, where doctors and healers work.
At the very heart lies the Circle of Unity. An open plaza where people can meet, host markets, festivals, and simply bond with one another. While the three guilds are still distinct, The Rings of Cinder and the Circle of Unity are both symbols of their dedication to the pact.
Dross Sculvark is the leading expert on the runic script. Despite turning down multiple offers to take up the leadership role in the Carver guild, most Triumvirates accredit the successful growth of the faction on Sculvark’s influence. Dross is officially retired but is known to tutor individuals who display a particular aptitude for the craft. The students of Sculvark often become noteworthy teachers themselves. Krolla Vu is one such pupil.
Marcus Law was a famous instrument maker from the Steelsmith guild. His works are prized by collectors around the world for their intricate detailing and quality of sound. He dedicated the latter half of his life to his final creation, a massive organ with over ten thousand pipes. It is considered the most difficult instrument in the world and attracts many aspiring Wingfolk to test themselves against it.
Wingfolk architecture is still deeply rooted in their former nomadic ways, and as such, almost all of their buildings take the form of tents. Even in their permanent settlements such as Eight Winds, tents constitute the vast majority of the buildings, even landmark ones like Tale’s Canvas, the great library and repository of lore at the city’s heart.
A typical Wingfolk tent is made from hide or heavy, treated weave and can house up to six people, though larger tents do exist. The smaller ones can be torn down and moved fairly quickly, should a family wish or need to move.
Though most tents are these family tents, there are some truly vast ones. Tale’s Canvas for instance is huge, housing the written records of everything that the Wingfolk Lorekeepers have uncovered and documented, as well as stories and tales shared by the other tribes. Supported by large wooden logs, it can accommodate dozens of people at any given time and rightly stands at the centre of Eight Winds.
Aside from Tale’s Canvas, most Wingfolk communities have at least one great tent, a space for the local populace to come together for celebration, mourning, or just socialising between families and bands. The larger towns and cities might even have more than one of these massive tents.
While the tents themselves are often fairly plain, they’re richly decorated with colourful, triangular flags, ribbons, kites and intricate family chimes. The distance over which a tent’s chime can be heard determines how much space belongs to that tent, an old system that has both prevented and caused many disputes over the years. However, most respect this tradition, meaning that their settlements tend to sprawl over larger areas and feel less dense or cramped when compared to those of other tribes.
The Wingfolk rarely set time aside for governing their realm, as most communities run themselves independently with the goal of serving the greater good of the nation. In times of crisis, however, they may make an exception. One of those times is the Call to Convention.
The Call is not something taken lightly and only occurs in times of emergency, such as a disaster. When word of the summons reaches a group of families, typically called a band, they must head directly to Eight Winds’ Peak. The leader typically separates to go on ahead to ensure that the bands are represented in time. Only a band leader can initiate the Call to Convention, and doing so carries the risk of exile should the motivation be deemed insufficient.
There was once a terrible drought that strained every nation on Nova Thera. It was a particularly difficult year for the Wingfolk who heavily rely on trade for food. The Call to Convention brought the bands together to keep Eight Winds’ Peak fed through their collaborative effort.
When a band is ready to submit a new story for the Tales’ Canvas, a performance is held at Eight Winds for everyone to witness. The performance is an unseen discovery worthy of record. Such significant performances are known as Revival because the story is brought to life once more before being immortalised on the pages. Bands will often plan their Revival months earlier to allow others to make arrangements in advance to witness it. As word spreads, it’s not uncommon for other bands to schedule performances and more Revivals along with the event. The announcement of a Revival often signals the coming of a days-long festival.
All Wingfolk children must perform their First Song. It is a necessary step to be considered an adult, after which they are treated and judged as one. It is a coming-of-age ceremony for Wingfolk to present their first solo performance to the rest of the band, performing a song they themselves have written. The First Song is a private occasion where outsiders are respectfully asked to step aside. During this occasion, the child presents their unique story using instruments they’ve been practising on for this occasion. It is an interpretation of their thoughts and feelings, an expressive display announcing who they have become and a chance for them to pay tribute to those they’ve grown up with. The subject matter and skill of the performance determines the starting point of their reputation as part of the band.
It requires two wings to fly, and this perspective is why the Wingfolk value marriage so highly. When two decide to become lifelong partners, there is a grand celebration. The band holds a feast and invites guests from other bands and tribes. The wedding couple comes together to create their new family chime. Given the importance of the family chime to each tent, their home also requires one.
During the feast, the newlywed couple begins to weave their own chime, combining the elements of their respective family chimes into one. Each half is memorised ahead of time through months of practice. Once the chime is finished, the elders of the tribe can tell the lineage of any household just by hearing the voice of their chime. The newlyweds hang the completed chime in or by their tent to signify the end of the celebration.
When Wingfolk know that childbirth is near, the band will ground itself to allow the parents to prepare for the arrival of the new life. The entire band contributes by helping in whatever manner they are best suited to. The elders inspect the newborns and gently toss them into the air to see how they respond. If the baby laughs, they believe they will be a great flyer. If the baby cries, the prediction is a mighty singer.
Legend speaks of an ancient band leader born during a glider flight and caught midair by a Primeon. It’s commonly known and understood to be just a myth, but the Wingfolk embrace it knowingly, more as a symbol of their connection to the sky rather than a fact.
Wingfolk cremate the deceased and carry the ashes to the nearest mountain peak. Once there, a stone cairn is constructed. The cloak, robes or other garments that the deceased wore on their travels are carefully wrapped around the base of the cairn, and the family chime is brought along to witness the occasion.
Once everything is ready, the ashes are scattered in the air to be carried away by the wind, and a verse or snippet from the dead’s First Song is sung or played. The cairn points towards the stars, symbolising the direction for the departed soul to take its final journey.
If the person had chosen a favourite spot to live out their final years, then their funeral rites take place in that very spot instead, rather than atop a mountain. The cairn is built where the tent stood, the cloth wrapped around it, a memorial to the lost and a mark of respect for the love they held for that place.
Still true to their nomadic roots, the Wingfolk favour lightweight and comfortable clothing, often loose in its fit to allow freedom of movement without constraint. Rugged and easily repaired when on the go, their textiles are often made from commonly found fibres, allowing for easy repair no matter where the Wingfolk may go.
The textiles are often supplemented with various furs and pelts, though these are often abandoned in hotter, drier climates. They tend to favour lighter colours such as off-whites, light shades of tan and blue, and warm, sunset-like hues. Their clothing is often decorated with various stitched patterns and feathers sewn in various places, such as along the shoulders or at the base of a collar.
Extensive trade with the other tribes and their settlements, as well as a general appreciation of all things cultural, has led many of the Wingfolk to incorporate exotic textiles and patterns from these faraway lands. In that sense, an ensemble is often the product of many journeys and experiences and is a record of the places that a particular individual has visited.
In terms of armour, the Wingfolk gravitate toward suits of chain mail along with open-faced helmets, these too supplemented by yet more mail. Underneath the metal, they’ll often use silk made from the weave of the Lilamoths, the cloth made from such silk being exceptionally resistant to cuts. This results in armour that is both light and mobile yet resilient enough to protect its wearer from harm.
Some of these outfits become cultural treasures in their own right when the original wearer passes away. If this happens, it may be given a place of honour in Tale’s Canvas, along with a record of the deeds and acts of the person who wore it in life.
The nomadic lifestyle of the Wingfolk presents a challenging limitation to the complexity of their musical instrument design. Portability is essential, followed by the simple maintenance of their instruments. As the tribe values storytelling and discovery so highly, an exploration into a wide range of instruments to develop one’s performance identity is immensely encouraged.
The free-spirited nature of the Wingfolk means one will never know if the next performance will be a solo or a group effort from one of the bands, or even members from multiple bands. Each performance is uniquely reflective of their experiences journeying across Nova Thera. Musical elements from other nations are woven into their performances through either imitation or by using the same instruments.
Flutes and pipes are a favourite, given the Wingfolk’s historical connection to the air. However, the unique instrument of the tribe is the ocarina. Most are small enough to be carried as pendants, but larger and more complex ocarinas are family treasures passed down through the generations. Using an ocarina is considered an intimate expression of the artist’s emotions and a moment to not be interrupted. The ocarina is also deeply connected to one’s breath and is believed to gauge self-mastery.
Another popular instrument among the Wingfolk is the two-stringed fiddle. This lightweight miniature violin can be easily attached to a glider or brought along in a pack. The string and bow of the fiddle come from the silk of a Lilamoth, and its main appeal is that it frees the artist to utilise their voice in tandem with it. The dramatic expressions of this fiddle often accompany performances with solid narratives.
Other popular instruments among the Wingfolk are sibling drums, flutes, pitch blocks, and maraca.
The Wingfolk’s food situation was uniquely challenging due to their nomadic lifestyle. Traditionally, roaming bands hunted and scavenged food from the land while resorting to trade for the rest of their supplies. This was far from consistent, and the lack of reliability increased the risk of low supply and over-hunted areas. However, trade led to trading posts, trading posts led to settlements, and settlements led to farming. These fledgling settlements then traded their surplus, and thus some food stability was ensured.
Travel cake is a famous Wingfolk dish that is prepared the day before setting out for a new camp. To make the dish, leftover meat is torn and broken down into a bowl. A second, slightly smaller bowl is pushed on top to squeeze as much liquid from the paste as possible. The paste is seasoned and then shaped into patties and floured. The pre-cooked cake is deep-fried in a pot for several minutes and left hanging on wires to drip off the excess oil. The cakes are tightly wrapped in leaves and tied with fibre string. The crunchy snack, as the name suggests, is for long-distance flights between camp locations. When properly prepared, a travel cake is edible for up to a week but is most crispy when eaten immediately after frying.
Eight Winds, named after the octagonal mountain Eight Winds’ Peak upon which it rests, marks the spot where the Wingfolk built their first permanent settlement. To this day the city is still true to the people’s nomadic past, a sprawling town of tents, spaced well apart. Wide open streets under the wide open sky, as some would say.
Storytelling and uncovering humanity’s lost past lies at the very heart of their culture, and so too lies Tale’s Canvas at the heart of Eight Winds. Here, the Lorekeepers document stories they’ve been told, found or created, as well as any findings of the old world that they uncover. Tale’s Canvas is a grand library, documenting the very idea of humanity - culture, in all its forms.
The tents themselves are usually fairly plain, ranging in size from just a single dwelling to ones housing entire families. None come close to matching the scale of Tale’s Canvas, but each is decorated with colourful flags in various shapes, soaring kites and ribbons fluttering in the constant wind.
Eight Winds is also known as Gentlesong. This is due to the fact that every home has a family chime, the pattern and sound of which documents that family’s past, their deeds, marriages, and all manner of things. The distance over which a chime can be heard marks a boundary within which others won’t set their tents, meaning that a visitor or resident will always hear the song of one, and only one, chime.
Esau Halong is a respected caretaker of the Tale’s Hall. While other nations might consider such a position as lowly, for the Wingfolk it is a tremendous honour to be entrusted with maintaining the records. Esau is one of the grounded, and they never leave Eight Winds’ Peak. Wingfolk children who misbehave near the Tale’s Hall often run home screaming in fear of Esau’s wrathful tongue-lashing, but the elderly’s temperament stems from their sense of duty.
Florence Ventu was a renowned explorer and cartographer among the Wingfolk. Her many travels and adventures over the years made her a legend in her own time to her people, and that legend lives on to this day. A common joke that highlights her fame is told as follows: “The only thing that precedes Florence is her reputation.” She mapped most of the Drakefang Mountains, home to several Tatsumakis, by herself.
Sometimes, a great disaster can be the catalyst of the greatest change. Time and time again the Earth of the past was reshaped by calamity, until one day, the Earth as it was was supplanted.
Human civilisation was once enjoying the peak of its scientific achievements. Its populace was thriving, its cities were sprawling, companies of industry and research alike reaping the rewards of development however they could, wherever they could.
One such company, its name long lost and forgotten, specialised in robotics, material science and military equipment based off of that research. Built on proprietary technologies, it had established itself with such wealth and influence that it could match nations, even having a military arm all of its own that it would lease to the highest bidder. Hoarding their secrets, they profited off of creating a dependency on their products and monopolising the delivery and maintenance thereof.
Its most recent venture however, prospecting for new minerals to utilise in the shadow of a great volcano, had been met with frustration. But one day, a worker noted what they thought was a sapphire. Bringing it in, it turned out that the blue gemstone was something far more interesting. Preliminary tests revealed multiple promising uses.
Simply being near the crystal seemed to invigorate the scientists researching it, and that itself was soon determined to be a direct result of the crystal rather than simple scientific curiosity. The company ravenously started searching for more, eager to monopolise this new material. Their first attempt to find more brought them to bore into a nearby mountain, but after countless man-hours invested in excavating tunnels, it seemed that this lone crystal must’ve been one of a kind.
This was when someone suggested that the gem may have come from the nearby volcano itself, perhaps expelled in an ancient eruption. The company wasted no time diverting its efforts to this new approach and soon, they found a whole seam of this crystal, enticing them to dig deeper. Many of the company’s own scientists and experts advised against this, but the desire to find more and more material to research and ultimately exploit for profit, won out.
That moment, the first eruption happened. From the mine where the gemstone was harvested, a giant creature tore through the stone and forth from the volcano, attacking the mining city. Mere moments later four more emerged, seemingly chasing the first. The five like no animals known to science, no, they were beasts of legend - dragons.
The attacker was driven away and the four pursued, disappearing high into the sky. Then, the true end of the old Earth and its civilisation came.
This is when the Ashfall began.
As a consequence of the company’s greedy excavation and the disruption caused to the volcano by the first dragon’s awakening, the mountain roared to life in the most powerful single eruption in geologic history. The pyroclastic flow and the ashes, blue in colour due to the crystal, carried this fine blue dust across the entire planet.
Little by little, the true scope of the disaster began to sink in. While being near the gemstone and the prototype products developed by the company had proven beneficial, it turned out that breathing the pulverised mineral was incredibly harmful. People were embroiled in a desperate scramble to find air filtration and other devices to protect themselves from inhaling the ever-present blue dust, but as always, the supply was never enough and once industry began to collapse, it would only ever decrease.
The population was ravaged by death and mutation as countless unfortunate people were killed by the dust, and those lucky, or unlucky, enough to survive were forever changed. By the time that this eruption had finally ceased and the volcano returned to its slumber, the human civilisation of the time had completely collapsed. Even then, conditions worsened as disease ran rampant, taking an ever more terrible toll.
While this was an end, it was not the end. Humans, if anything, are stubborn creatures. The survivors slowly coalesced into groups, and over the centuries spent clinging on at the very brink of extinction, they slowly began to recover. The world would recover too in time, but it would never be the same.
Eventually, the shattered survivors began to be drawn to four main places, rumours being shared by weary travellers and in exchange for food and drink. There were places where humanity could still survive, and maybe one day thrive.
A forest whose trees shielded its inhabitants. A mountaintop where the winds kept the ash at bay. A dormant volcano, sleeping among the ice in a remote corner of the world. A floating city that could whisk anyone lucky enough to find it to safety.
Clutching to this hope, the peoples gathered in these places and there they transformed, each building its own culture and customs. Each was shaped by the new land and the new animals that called it home alongside them, new animals unlike anything that the old world had ever seen before. These tribal societies were the Lifetenders of Everwood, the Wingfolk of Eight Winds’ Peak, the Triumvirate of the Rings of Cinder, and the Waveborne of Seahome.
As each tribe established itself and grew, they sought to claim more for themselves, inevitably bringing them all to conflict. The ends justified the means as savage raids and reprisals followed one another, sometimes even outright, bloody warfare. However, such conflict could only be sustained for so long.
A great conference was held, where differences were put aside, peace was brokered and goals for the mutual prosperity of all were set. This feat of diplomacy proved successful, and while occasional skirmishes would happen from time to time and some disputes came close to unravelling it all, ultimately war and blood were replaced with trade and tournament. Each tribe competing for glory and prestige and settling their differences by pitting their finest Pixelmon tamers against one another in sparring matches.
So it was that the old gave way to the new, its own identity rising from the crumbling remains of decaying ruins and forgotten technology. The Ashfall may be a distant memory spoken of in hushed whispers, and the four dragons who fought off the fifth regarded with reverence distorted by time and myth, but the changes that this great disaster put in motion were far-reaching and fundamental. Life itself, even the very continents and oceans have taken on new forms, new meaning. A new beginning in a new world - Nova Thera.
Through bonds shared they tell a story, side by side they seek honour and glory.
We welcome all of you to participate in the glorious experience of the multiplayer online game ritual of Pixelmon training. You decide for yourself which path you take and who will fight at your side. Brave the wilds to begin putting together your team. Founded on the pillars of community, Pixelmon Trainers align themselves with a nation and make their name known to the world.
Your team will grow stronger as you fight other Trainers and wild Pixelmon. Explore the world of Nova Thera and grow your monsters strong and mighty to become the selected champion of your nation. As you do so, you’ll discover collectible equipment and weapons that will aid you in your missions.
You’ll also be able to win honourable trophies and medals which represent your achievements in the strange lands of Nova Thera. This is a world full of peculiarities, and not everyone or everything should be trusted as a friend. Pick your path wisely.
To survive in Nova Thera, you might find yourself needing to collaborate with other Trainers. Whatever you decide to do and wherever your journey leads you, we wish you the best of luck in your travels.
The fire's warmth flickered and disturbed the shadows across the cave walls. The distinct shape of four mercenaries cast outward from the comforting flame. A rare moment of peace.
For this was a time of conflict across Nova Thera. Before the Triumvirate guilds saw the folly of their infighting, or the Waveborn denouncing their raiding ways. A time when the Lifetenders raised armies, and the Wingfolk flew together in numbers not seen since.
Ravena counted a stack of gold coins from their previous job while Oberos carved the finishing touches on a wooden figurine. Mort silently gazed into the flames. Alaric recited a joke he had overheard from a soldier they would never see or fight alongside again. On the fire, a skewered bird roasted.
Oberos was a quiet giant of a man, but occasionally, he would chuckle at one of Alaric's jokes. Each time, his rumbling voice would reverberate down the cave’s depths. When Ravena spoke, she would embellish the danger and thrill in her tales of her time at sea. Mort paid close attention to them all, studying their stories, but he could not hold back his whispered sighs at the more absurd aspects.
The sound of approaching footsteps caused the group to tense, all except for Mort, who rose as though expecting this. His sensitivity to danger wasn't by choice but a harsh lesson born of misfortune.
Mort readied his daggers and prepared to meet whatever it was. However, it was Alaric who first stepped toward the sound. His curiosity was a trait Mort did not envy. Ravena carefully set down the coins and lifted her bow. Her usual cocky smile replaced by strict focus. Oberos continued his carving but kept his eyes on Alaric as he drew near the sound.
An exhausted man appeared at the entrance, he was panting as he stumbled into the cave.
"Apologies sir, but this cave is fully booked," Alaric jokingly welcomed the man inside.
Seeing all the weapons drawn toward him, the stranger held up his hands in an effort to regain his breath.
"Please wait! I've been searching for you. We need assistance."
Ravena raised an eyebrow, "Work? Ha, means you already know we're mercs."
"And who is 'we'?" Mort added.
The stranger's soiled and torn clothes indicated his journey had been rough. He gasped, "My name is Thoma. I'm from a village called Respite. The beasts of the forest are growing more dangerous by the day. We're willing to pay for capable fighters to aid us."
Ravena's ears perked up, "How much are we talking about?" she inquired.
For the first time, Oberos stepped forward and interrupted, "How do we know we can trust you?"
Thoma strained his neck to look up at the muscular man towering over him. He fumbled with his bag before quickly presenting the mercenaries with a purse that jingled with its contents.
"T-This is the downpayment, and we'll triple this amount after your services are complete."
Ravena jumped past the others and grabbed the pouch, checking its weight.
"What do you think, boys?" she asked as she turned to face her team with a satisfied smile.
"We could use the money," Alaric shrugged as he snatched the purse, briefly whistling, "A little bit of monster hunting doesn't sound so bad."
Oberos returned to his seat and resumed his wood carving. Mort nodded in agreement and removed the now-readied dinner from the flames. The relieved Thoma joined them as they ate and rested. Ravena slung one arm over their new employer as she commented on the state of his clothes.
The group packed up their belongings the following day and left the safety of the cave. Thoma awkwardly made small talk with the mercenaries as he led them to Respite.
They travelled over the many countryside hills on their route. Alaric’s face was buried in his maps but Thoma, who was beside him, pointed out that Respite was too new to appear on any of them. Alaric gave up and relinquished his role as the group’s guide as Thoma took the lead.
As they walked, Ravena positioned herself at the front of the group to watch for signs of impending danger. Oberos, however, worked nonstop on his carvings from the rear of the pack. Mort continued to silently watch Thoma's every move.
By the third day of their travels, the relatively peaceful journey was disturbed by the sound of metal clashing against metal. Two groups of Triumvian soldiers were engaged in combat with each other. From a distance, the mercenaries observed and evaluated the scenario.
"Why are the Triumvirate fighting against themselves?" Mort muttered to himself.
Oberon gestured towards the different groups of soldiers, "A civil war, my friend. Those there are from the Steelsmith guild, whereas the ones they fight are the Delvers."
He let out an immensely disappointed grunt.
A squad of troops abruptly appeared from the trees and headed toward them. The Steelsmith guild's insignia imprinted on their shining new armour. Reinforcements, no doubt.
Their leader approached the group without hesitation. Despite the immaculate gear, his history with warfare was evident from the scars on his face.
"Travellers," he inquired, "can you not see this is a battle?"
Mort stepped forth, "We are simply passing through."
The leader cast a wary glance toward the group's well-equipped arsenal. Alaric sensed the man’s thoughts and stepped forward to diffuse his rising suspicions.
"It would be reckless to travel without these," Alaric suggested while slowly tipping his spear toward the forest in the distance, "Between the woodland creatures in there and the battles out here, it is better to have them but not need them."
The man paused to acknowledge the wisdom of Alaric's words. His attention switched to check on the state of the battle. He grimaced as he noticed the battle was not heading towards the Steelsmiths’ favour.
"Would you be interested in earning a fair amount of coin for joining us?" he proposed, now with a more pleasant tone of voice.
Ravena's eyes lit up at the notion of even more pay.
Mort shook his head, "We’ve renounced warfare. Besides, we're currently in the middle of a contract."
Ravena reluctantly pointed her thumb in Thoma’s direction. The leader quickly dropped all pretences of pleasantries by spitting on the grass.
"If you are too afraid to fight the men on these hills, go face your monsters in the forest," he growled before leading his men into a charge toward the battle.
Ravena was about to shoot an arrow at their hides when Oberos abruptly reached out and tipped her bow.
"We’re committed to Respite. Let us keep our attention and resources on the mission," Oberos spoke calmly.
With no choice but to enter the forest, the mercenary group continued their journey within the dark woodland. The light of the sun was dimmed by the thick foliage overhead. According to Thoma, they should soon find a fresh trail cut by Respite's residence, but even then it was still challenging to move through as the tangled ground was far from smooth.
Progress was slow as they also had to keep vigilant for the unknown threats lurking beyond view. Although the village of Respite was still some distance away, the journey continued to be surprisingly uneventful.
They came upon a clearing with a solitary tree standing in the middle. Only its trunk and a few leafless branches remained. Mort deduced the area perfect for his trip alarms, but Ravena felt unsettled. There was something off with the warped shape of the tree’s bark.
Shaking off the feeling, Ravena reasoned a decaying branch would make ideal kindling for their soon-to-be campfire. However, the moment she ripped one off, the tree unleashed a piercing scream.
What was thought to be the remains of a tree was actually a slumbering Drootle. The monstrous fusion of insect and plant quickly tore its roots from the ground. The back of its carapace opened outward to reveal four large translucent wings. It began its assault on the group, continuing to scream as it hovered around in circles around them.
Thoma dove to the ground and covered his head while the mercenary band sprang into action. Oberos used his shield to block the Drootle's claws, whereas Alaric took the opportunity to swiftly slash his spear at its exposed belly.
The steel blade slashed a chunk of bark free. The monster screamed again but was quickly silenced as one of Ravena's arrows entered through its open maw and pierced the roof of its palate.
Shocking everyone, the Drootle ceased its noise by biting down. The arrow effortlessly snapped in its beak. The Drootle landed on the ground with a heavy thud and lowered its head, ready to charge at the group with its massive horn.
Mort, who had been preparing something this entire time, held a flaming piece of cloth which he lit using flint from their campfire. He dodged the Drootle’s attack and threw a bottle of black liquid at the creature. The bottle instantly shattered against the Drootle's horn. Mort quickly wrapped the flaming cloth around the horn before making distance.
Fire rapidly spread around the Drootle’s horn, causing the beast to unleash its loudest scream yet. It blindly charged into the forest, desperate to escape the inescapable flame.
"One down," Ravena proclaimed.
The team began to relax with the returning silence of the forest.
Thoma picked himself up off the ground, "No, the Droots and Drootle have never been a problem. They only attack if you cut healthy trees or attack them first."
Flustered, Ravena shouted at her employer, "Well, then why didn't you tell us that wasn't a tree?! What are you expecting us to fight anyway?"
"Slyth," Thoma reluctantly answered.
Mort's face twisted in disapproval. Oberos sat down and began carving a new piece from the wood Alaric had chipped off from the Drootle.
It took a while, but Alaric managed to calm everyone down. The group readied themselves for one more sleep before their destination.
They awoke at sunrise and set off immediately. None wished to risk the charred Drootle's return by loitering in its grove. After a few more hours of traversing through the forest, the mercenary group was finally greeted by the relieved villagers of Respite.
Ravena, Alaric, Oberos, and Mort were eager to fulfil their contract, unaware of the impending battle.
To be continued...
The village of Respite had carved a place for itself deep within the forest. There, quaint wooden homes were organised in a ring around the centre of the woodland. The forest canopy had been cut away, allowing sunlight to flow to the inhabitants.
Hope infused with lingering exhaustion permeated the air as the mercenary group entered the small village of Respite. Behind the windows of the freshly constructed buildings, many eyes watched them silently. An uneasy silence hung in the air.
"What a nice and warm welcome!”, Alaric jested.
"I'm back!”, Thoma called as he stepped forward.
"I found them, come out and greet them. Father!"
A door opened, and a middle-aged man stepped out. The similarity in his face left no doubt who he was. Thoma's father stared steely at the four visitors.
"Welcome, heroes. I'll admit, I didn't believe my son when he spoke of you, but we're all relieved to have you join us," he spoke while gesturing for them to follow.
"Here that? Word’s out we're heroes now," Ravena grinned while ribbing Alaric in the side.
"They're just buttering us up, or have you been doing heroics on the side while we weren't looking?", Mort loosed a rare smile.
Ravena chortled at the absurdity of the accusation coming from Mort of all people.
"This could be our start," Alaric finally replied.
Thoma pushed past them all to embrace an elderly woman with a hug. He introduced his grandmother, Lyra, to the group. She was immensely relieved they had returned Thoma to her unharmed.
Lyra was the only healer in Respite. Her kindness matched her skill as she treated the group for the various afflictions their lifetime of experiences had accrued. It was a team effort to crack Oberos' back, and he hummed pleasantly at the relief.
While Lyra was treating the group, Thoma and his kid sister Emma prepared a meal for everyone to enjoy. The warm meal was a welcome treat after the group’s tense few days of travel.
At the dinner table, Thoma's father recounted the history of Respite. The people gathered here had all fled the atrocities from conflicts between and among the rivalling powers. Farmers who had lost their homes, soldiers who couldn't stand the bloodshed anymore, and those who just wanted to protect their children.
The desire to establish a sanctuary hidden amid the forest was the founding principle, hence the town’s name. But, just as progress towards this shared dream was going well, the dangers of the forest revealed themselves. Droots were initially furious over the clearing of the canopy, but more pressing matters were the obstinate Slyths.
It took a lot of work for them to gather resources. Most had to leave the village limits for anything beyond water from the well. Slyth attacks had thwarted their attempts to expand the settlement or improve the paths into the forest. The serpents were elusive and crafty, and every time the villagers believed they had solved the Slyth issue in one location, they would simply migrate elsewhere and return.
The situation was made worse by the disappearance of Derick, one of the most dependable men in the village. He had vanished while gathering wood to the South.
Thoma had proposed using a professional tracker to find either Derick, the Slyths, or both. After hearing the mercenary group's prowess and accomplishments from a group of travellers, he recommended them to his village. Derick's family offered all the coin they could afford and entrusted it to Thoma to find these so-called heroes of the battlefield.
After hearing this, the pouch on Ravena’s hip felt significantly heavier. She tried to hide the emotion in her voice as she spoke.
"We'll find their son,” she promised.
The band members looked at her with surprise, but Alaric smiled at Ravena’s unusual selflessness.
Mort felt it essential to make it clear they no longer fight on the battlefields. He didn't want people to think they were killers for hire. Bloodshed has been part of their lives for far too long; all they want now is to help others.
The unassuming Oberos nodded in accord and placed a completed miniature Drootle on the table. It was carved from the bark of the real one they had fought.
Emma was immediately fascinated and asked if she could have it. Oberos smiled and let the child take it with her. He took out his whittling knife and began work on a new piece.
Being the last to finish her food, Lyra spoke up.
"More than just coin, there are other benefits for clearing out the Slyth. They're a source of food, material, and, more importantly, medicine. Of course, you are free to take what you want, and I can prepare several ailments for you should you succeed."
The jokester, Alaric, playfully suggested the mercenary group expects several pairs of Slyth boots before their contract ends.
Mort rose from the table with clear intent to begin their quest, but Lyra called him back.
"You've all been marching for days. You must rest."
"And how many days has Derick been missing?” Mort replied bluntly, turning to Ravena. "We gave our word."
Mort quietly left the house, with Oberos and Ravena soon following. Alaric thanked the family for the treatment and food before scurrying after his team.
As they headed to the village's southern path, they heard Thoma's familiar voice from the rear. Ravena grabbed Thoma by the collar.
"You stay. Go tell Derick's family we've headed out," she ordered with a tone that expected no questioning.
Mort took the lead, making use of his superior tracking abilities developed through his many years leading a Wingfolk hunting band. He looked at the earth and the woodland beyond, then set to work.
After they were long out of earshot of Respite, Alaric turned around to check if Thoma wasn't still following. With a mixture of sympathy and understanding on his face, he watched the village disappear out of view.
"I could never have risked settling my family in such a perilous abode," he announced.
Ravena spoke softly, for she knew of Alaric's past, "Beasts are more predictable than men. A village in the hills is an easy target, I know."
Alaric winced at the reminder that Ravena was a former Waveborn raider, the same kind who stole his future with his family. It had taken time, but he didn't blame Ravena since she had renounced those ways before they even met.
Mort's perceptive eyes noticed a lone shoe on the woodland floor. He bent over and snatched it up as a sombre conclusion struck him.
“One doesn’t often abandon this willingly,” he said worriedly.
The trail revealed that Derick had broken into a sprint. The damage to the vegetation told his story of a relentless chase. Then, the footprints vanished.
It would be here where most trackers would be at a loss, but not Mort. He closed his eyes to focus. Mort envisioned himself in the role of a predator pursuing its prey. Having finally caught its meal after a long chase, where would he go next?
Mort opened his eyes and spun on his heels. There! A burrow or a cave would be the safest place to rest and feed. He drew his daggers and pressed on.
It didn't take long for the serpentine hissing to warn the group of their intrusion. Two Slyths were huddled near a burrow of rotting leaves. Their emerald scales and gold crowns sparkled even in the overcast light from the forest canopy. The two serpents rushed at the group while a third lazily emerged from the burrow.
The third was monstrously rotund. Its entirety swollen with the bulge of a recent meal. Ravena shouted in horror at the realisation of who was inside. The attacking Slyths struck rapidly at the intruders, poisonous fangs flashing.
Oberos struck a Slyth with his hammer and grabbed the other with his bare hand, tossing it aside before it could react.
Mort cut through the stunned creature rebounding from Oberos' hammer while Alaric kicked the other Slyth away. This bought time for Ravena, who notched an arrow aimed at the engorged one in the distance. A perfectly placed shot between its eyes was all it took to cease its revolting motion.
Oberos and Mort relaxed at having dispatched the Slyths, but Alaric still had his defences up. Being a Lifetender, he had grown up with the warnings of Slyth hordes. He looked to the treetops and cried out for the other's attention.
Above them, the canopy seemed alive as dozens of Slyth glided between the branches. They released themselves from their grip and rained down with righteous anger.
Meanwhile, more serpents erupted from the burrow. The four mercenaries quickly found themselves surrounded and fighting for their very lives. Blades flashing, arrows flying.
Their backs pressed against one another to cover every angle. Oberos suddenly took to one knee. Despite his impeccable defence, a set of fangs had managed to pierce his thigh. The venom acted fast to steal his strength.
Alaric and Mort immediately took Oberos' role and shifted to defending him while he recovered. Having lost initiative after a while, the Slyths hesitated to charge at the circle of lethal blades directed at them.
Oberos gripped his thigh with both hands and squeezed. Blood mixed with yellow venom erupted from the wound.
"I-I can't feel anything, but my legs still work,” he stoically proclaimed through gritted teeth.
Hearing this, Mort yelled for a retreat. They carefully headed back the way they came, blades threatening any Slyths emboldened enough to approach. Oberos was turning pale but continued to block the Slyths with his shield.
A thunderous roar reverberated throughout the forest, and the ground trembled. The canopy shook menacingly, causing even more Slyth to fall to the ground.
Having lost their sense of coordination, the terrified Slyths quickly scattered into the forest's depths. They disappeared as fast as they had arrived.
Ravena breathed a sigh of relief. Shifting focus, Alaric immediately turned to aid Oberos by applying Lyra's medicine to his wound. Mort's instincts screamed at him to escape, but he tipped out his bag onto the forest floor instead.
They’ll need every trick he had to face whatever nightmare was approaching.
The atmosphere in the forest grew tense. The Slyth had vanished entirely, and the only sound that could be heard was a constant rumble that grew closer with every passing moment.
Oberos' breathing became difficult. Despite the amount of venom he'd extracted, that which remained continued to drain his strength. The giant of a man struggled against the effects; he had to survive and see his friends return to the village safely.
Mort quickly sorted the numerous bottles while looking through the tools he'd strewn across the forest earth. He snatched a green flask and turned to face Ravena with a look of determination. Mort forced the bottle into her hands and ordered:
"Save this for the right time."
She paused, hesitation written across her face, but Mort's certainty assured her. Ravena shifted her attention to the approaching danger while pocketing the concoction. She nocked an arrow and waited.
Mort busied himself with tying a wire to one of two throwing knives, followed quickly by a set of bells they used for their trip alarms during camp. Alaric bravely raised his spear, but he couldn't hide his nervous tremble.
The source of the noise finally came into sight. A great and terrible dragon, clad in emerald scales and armoured with gold, made its grand entrance. Trees had no hope of slowing the monstrosity, its strength and bulk forging a path through them like a grown man might through grass. It was a Behemoth, a lord of the weald and the true master of these lands.
It slowed to a halt to gaze down upon the mercenaries, appraising those who would attack its subjects. The sight and smell of the slain Slyths ignited the Behemoth’s fury and it let out a mighty roar, which deafened the group. It was unlike any sound they’d ever heard before. No thunderclap could ever measure up to the power of the Behemoth’s bellowing.
The group's eyes widened in awe of the creature's immense size and strength. But amid the wonder, Alaric rediscovered his voice. Once again, he alerted his team to what they were facing, or so he hoped. He couldn’t even hear his own voice.
"We must flee!" the weight of the understanding hitting him almost as hard as the dragon’s bellow.
Mort responded as the ringing in their ears slowly faded away, proving that at least one of Alaric’s companions had heard him.
"We cannot hope to outrun that thing, nor can we lead it back to the village! Keep it focused on us!"
Mort disappeared into the brush the moment the dragon began to move. The Behemoth kicked one of the toppled trees, sending it hurtling toward the clustered group. Without hesitation, Alaric shoved Oberos out of harm's way. His selflessness was not rewarded as the tree struck him in the chest, knocking him off his feet and carrying him along like a rag through the forest’s undergrowth until he was out of sight.
Despite all of this, Ravena drew her bow and released an arrow. It deflected off the dragon's thick scales, bouncing off with a quiet clink. Her fear was getting the better of her.
The dragon turned its attention to the archer and, in return, unleashed a mighty roar that bellowed directly at her. Ravena's hands immediately flew to her ears, dropping her bow to the ground. She struggled to breathe as the vibrations shook her entire body, the sheer might of the roar forcing air into her lungs, she couldn’t exhale. Her vision darkened as she slumped to the forest floor, only faintly aware of the rumbling beneath her as the dragon approached.
Ravena roused from the daze only to see the great dragon’s fanged maw reaching down for her. She felt her death was certain and closed her eyes, only to be violently shunted aside by something else. She opened them once more, and realised it was Oberos.
Venom was not going to stop him from saving his friend. He had instinctively lunged for her and snatched her up in his arms. Oberos allowed his momentum to carry them forward, momentarily pushing them out of harm's way, if only thanks to whatever element of surprise had been on Oberos’ side.
He kept running as fast as his legs would carry him, but his steps quickly grew shakier as he pushed himself. The venom's effects were taking their toll as he turned a pale white and his breathing grew ragged. He set Ravena down as he came to a halt, bracing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. She realised he’d brought them down the path where the tree had been flung when she found Alaric, his legs trapped beneath the trunk. He was gasping, a pained expression on his face as he clutched his left side.
Ravena attempted to lift the tree off of Alaric's legs. She struggled against the enormous weight, but it was in vain. Helplessness threatened to overwhelm them as Alaric struggled to breathe with his one functioning lung.
The ground began to tremble as a now familiar roar reverberated across the forest. The trembling drew ever closer.
“Go, leave me here,” Alaric sputtered, “There’s no sense in you staying.”
“No.” came Oberos’ stern reply. He turned to face the oncoming Behemoth, hammer in hand.
Ravena pushed with all her might against the tree, speaking through gritted teeth, “We’re not leaving you behind.”
The Behemoth wandered into view. It hadn’t even bothered to run them down, as if it knew there was no need. It looked at the weakened Oberos, ignored him, and planted a massive, clawed foot on the tree that pinned Alaric down, slowly crushing his legs into the ground below and the man screamed in pain.
Having had the tree torn out of her grip by a strength she could never hope to match, Ravena’s fear was replaced, usurped in her mind with a single, vengeful goal. She rushed forward, snatching Alaric’s fallen spear off the ground as she stormed headlong toward the dragon, her voice raised into as loud a battle cry as she could muster. Oberos tried to keep up, but the venom simply wouldn’t let him.
For a brief moment, the dragon appeared either impressed or confused by Ravena's reckless fury, but that moment passed as quickly as it arrived. Swiftly it lashed out, and this time its fangs found their mark. The monster’s teeth sank into her flesh and bone as it raised its head, lifting her off the ground as it savaged her arm. Screaming in agony as the bladed maw tore through her, she tried to stab it with the spear but couldn’t land any meaningful hits.
Suddenly, a dagger flew past the Behemoth's head and lodged in a neighbouring tree. A jingling sound rang out, diverting the dragon's focus to the bells fastened to the dagger. Perhaps confident that it faced no real danger now that the perceived threat was dangling from its maw, it lowered its head to inspect the oddity with idle curiosity.
In that very moment, another blade thrown with a precision only Mort could manage pierced the dragon’s eye, releasing Ravena from its fanged grip as it reared back in pain, now half-blind.
"Do it now!", Mort shouted.
Ravena sprung from the ground, an adrenaline rush like she’d never felt in her life coursing through her veins, keeping her going. She struck at the dragon’s opposite eye with Alaric's spear, and struck true. The spearhead lodged in the beast’s eye socket as the now blinded, raging monstrosity struck every which way, claws and tail laying waste to trees and ground alike. Despite his efforts to get clear, its tail struck Mort right across the face, a glancing blow. The sharp scales cut into him and past the gashes, he too was now missing an eye. He stumbled a few steps before collapsing into an unconscious heap. Oberos hauled him away from the Behemoth, then slowly made his way to Ravena’s side.
Ravena drew the green bottle, the one Mort had entrusted her with, thankful that it had survived the ordeal. She threw the thing as hard as she could, aiming for the dragon’s blood-filled eye socket, but struck it directly across the nose instead.
Whatever Mort had brewed, the dragon did not appreciate it. The Behemoth spat and convulsed in agony, sending another furious tail swipe Ravena’s way.
Oberos, almost entirely exhausted, threw himself in the way once more. He braced himself, arms raised into a guard.
The tail connected and struck the man down. Oberos tumbled an awful distance before coming to a halt. His limp body lay there, only barely breathing, arms twisted and bent into horrible, unnatural angles.
Mort, conscious once more, hauled himself to his feet, one hand clasped across his missing eye. He saw Ravena reach for the spear, grasping it with her good arm as the weakened dragon clawed the air, failing to hit her. He darted forward, still unsteady on his feet, and practically slammed into Ravena, giving the spear the final push it needed to pierce the dragon’s bone and, ultimately, its brain. With a dull, sickening gurgle and erratic convulsions, the dragon fell silent and still. Ravena too collapsed from this final effort, clutching her near-severed arm to try to staunch the bleeding.
"We did it! Ow,” Alaric moaned from ground level, still pinned by the tree the Behemoth now lay next to.
Mort assessed the situation. Sure he’d lost an eye, but at least his bones weren’t broken, he wasn’t pinned under a tree, nor had his arm just been shredded by a dragon’s teeth. Oberos and Alaric were both incapacitated, Ravena’s arm was about to fall off, and most of the team’s weapons were lost or broken. There was still an army of Slyth nearby...
Mort bandaged Ravena’s wounds as best he could, deeming her state to be the most critical. Oberos would be fine, the bastard was too damn stubborn for any other result and well, Alaric seemed to be managing well enough.
“We need help. I won’t be gone long, I’m going to get the villagers.” His voice was calm, but in his mind he feared what might happen if the Slyths decided to avenge the fallen lord of the forest. He hurried along as fast as he could, and when he arrived, the villagers didn’t need to be told twice. He himself was left in Lyra’s care as the others rushed off into the woods to retrieve his companions.
Over the following months, the mercenary group remained at Respite while recovering from their life-changing injuries. Derick’s funeral was a sombre affair, and his bereaved family withdrew themselves to grieve alone. Mort, being fit to walk before the others, quietly snuck their money back to them in the dead of night, leaving it on a window sill.
Despite the tragedy of this loss, the four were celebrated as heroes. The village collected the valuable hides of the numerous Slyths and the slain dragon. From this, a former Steelsmith living in the village fashioned them each a masterwork set of arms and armour, to replace those lost in the battle and to, in her own words,
“Shield you in armour worthy of your deeds.”
Once the emotions in the wake of both the triumph and the loss had settled somewhat, the four offered to remain in Respite. After recovering, they would resolve the Slyth problem once and for all. The villagers readily agreed, and arrangements were made to build the four a house of their own. Ravena protested, but Lyra argued that “It’ll still be useful whenever you decide to take to the road again.”
They remained in Lyra’s care, but despite her tireless efforts, there were injuries that she simply could not mend. Skilled though she was, she was no miracle worker.
Alaric lost the use of his left leg, and had it replaced with a pegleg. Still, he insisted on a pair of Slythskin boots nonetheless. As for Oberos, his bones healed well, but the venom caused him to develop a chronic tremble in his hands. It made carving challenging, but he persisted. Mort had lost an eye, his face scarred by reddened slashes. Ravena’s arm could not be saved, and she would never use a bow again.
News of the gilded heroes and their dragon-slaying adventure spread, slowly at first, but as the occasional trickle of new arrivals grew into a steady stream of those wishing to affirm the truth behind the tale, the story became a legend.
Leveraging all the unused gold they’d collected, the village of Respite began to prosper as trade between the distant communities bloomed. Even as Respite became known to the wider world, its neutrality was respected. Sure, there was plenty of gold for a few dozen people to trade in, but not enough for the tribes to be interested in taking the region.
In the end, the four settled into Respite for good, forming a mercenary company free of any affiliation, yet welcoming of anyone who had grown tired of the wars, just as they once had. The four became the core of The Gilded League, and despite their injuries, their company would forge many more tales over the years that followed.
Trainers, like all human beings, are dependent on technology to survive. The inhabitants of our world, Nova Thera, must learn how to handle tools, weapons and equipment constructively, dare we risk another Ashfall. It’s up to each Trainer to make their unique choice of weapons, armour and gear t o aid them in their search for their desired Pixelmon.
Ours is a large planet, with many unclaimed areas of land that could be prosperous for trainers deciding to settle there. Pixelmon land will be located in one of the four key Tribe regions (Water, Air, Fire and Earth), hosting a variety of unique benefits for its holders.
