Melvor Idle :: v1.1

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A Tale of the Past, a future's prophecy

In the early stages of our world, everything existed as an energetic and shapeless mass with endless possibilities outstretched before it. All it needed was a pair of skilled hands to mold it into whatever they saw fit. It was here that The Four each tried, in turn, to harness their abilities to create something meaningful. An incalculable amount of time passed as the gods each tried and failed to produce anything that held longstanding merit.

The Four were comprised of, Aeris, Glacia, Terran, and Ragnar, all of which attempted to rise up to the challenge to breathe life and creation into existence. To create something meaningful, and worth sharing with one another. However, despite all their efforts, individually, none of them were happy with what they were able to make. Frustrated with their individual lack of progress, they eventually pooled their power together and created the land known as Melvor.

The Four frequently consulted one another, asking for input, sharing in successes, and propping one another up during their failures. Everything was harmonious in the beginning, with contributions from all being considered and given equal weight. This went incredibly well, until the creation of… us. The Vorlorans that inhabit this world. The Four were incredibly divided on how to properly lead, guide, and nurture us, and despite having no major disagreements ever before, this was simply too dire for them to move past amicably. The Gods fell into disarray, frequently quarreling with one another over status, power, and how to lead us…

As The Four splintered, our world did as well, and war was raged across its entirety, egged on by the Gods who refused to see past their differences. Blinded by their growing hatred for one another, none saw the scheme of Malcs, leader of the lesser dragons. With a huge toll of lives and power, the Four were sealed away and held in place by Malcs’ soul, who became revered in the eyes of Melvor’s populous for such a feat. Without the Four’s interference or any reason to remain fighting, the once brutal and fiery war died off nearly overnight.

After draining himself of so much power, Malcs entered a self-imposed exile to regain his strength and guard himself against those who may wish to destroy him in his weakened state. Many years passed by as Malcs bound himself to his new home. The tales of his riches and power never ceased though, and many sought after his location. Nothing stays hidden forever, not even the leader of the lesser dragons. Malcs defended himself for years, trying to keep the Four he bound to his soul contained… until it was broken.

As his body shattered, the Four were set free once again. Four pillars of light streamed forth, darting into the sky:

Aeris, the God of Air’s Radiant Silver.
Glacia, the God of Water’s Soft Blue.
Terran, the God of Earth’s Mossy Green.
And Ragnar, the God of Fire’s Burning Red.

All four found an endpoint within Melvor, and at the end of these beams of light rose dungeons that rivaled the largest and most opulent kingdoms in both size and majesty. Bitter over their imprisonment, their temper’s flare once again and the Gods raise armies to tear one another apart. With you at the center, what do you aim to do with what you’ve wrought out upon the land?

Aeris - The Air God

Radiant Silver, wings of bountiful colors. Aeris is known as the Loving God. Given the power of flight she travelled the world radiating her love and beauty towards all the populace of Melvor. In the eyes of the people she was a beacon of hope and a symbol of peace in which the gods upheld. When trouble arose she would always be there as if a guardian was always watching over. During the early times she would often meet with the other gods to discuss the role she would play, however she considered only one a good friend. Over the many years that had passed her tireless effort had left her exhausted. "It's always the same." she cried. With all her effort she truly believed she was doing good. But the world is cruel and ever changing. Was she really ever needed? she thought. Upset and no longer wanting to feel this way she decides to exact the opposite of what she stood for. And so in the end the once loving god of Melvor becomes the recluse. Leaving the people to fend for themselves. "I wonder, what does all this power amount to when its no longer there, what do the people do when the hero leaves?"

Glacia - The Water God

Soft Blue, a cold heart. Glacia is known as the Helping God. While managing the oceans and seas she would guide lost voyagers who had gone astray to safety. The explorers of Melvor called her the Ocean's Spirit, for when she was happy the oceans were calm and when she was not the waves echoed it. The role she played was not something she wanted to do, but she knew it was her duty to maintain. Her true dream was to be free above the clouds like Aeris. Being tied to the oceans it was the only thing that was ever on her mind. However the burden of not being able to lied deep within her heart. Despite knowing she was shackled she would still try time and time again but fail. To always see Aeris soar away after their meeting was enough to break her. And as time went by her growing bitterness towards her role eventually escalated to hatred when Aeris decided she would no longer fulfil her role anymore. Having clung to this dream for so long and seeing someone squander it was outrageous to her. And so they argued and argued for even longer until only what was left was nothing but pain behind her eyes. And after all these years it had already consumed her inner self. "Do you pity those who use their power for everyone else knowing they can never help themselves? they are the ones who tread the line between a blessing and curse."

Terran - The Earth God

Mossy Green, careless wisdom. Terran is known as the Entrusted god. The Earth God was the first before the others. With his power he transformed most of the worlds landmass to how it is seen today. All but one of the other gods respected him as their elder, knowing full well he would be the most knowledgeable. And so being unrestricted he was allowed to do whatever he wanted. The early inhabitants of Melvor saw him as the greatest of all which gave him all the support he needed to further continue his work. Terran would also organize the meetings of gods and instruct them of the role they should be upholding. But since the other gods never questioned him his ignorance towards everyone grew in parallel with his arrogance. As time went by to him there were no more boundaries, which in turn led to the anger of the other gods. But it had been so long, he did so much so what was different for him now? And so in his mind he was so sure he was betrayed when he was confined to a place where he no longer had any influence. "Solitary, confined to my own darkness. The whispers of a thousand cries brush over me like the wind. Is this true torture? Maybe not. This is the beginning of a new true king."

Ragnar - The Fire God

Burning Red, a demonic ego. Ragnar is known as the Chaotic god. The Fire God was the youngest of all the gods. With the power of fire he stood above the rest in terms of strength and he knew. His fierce rivalries with the other gods and his lack of emotion towards everyone else was troublesome. Knowing this the other gods shunned him and for the benefit of all living creatures he was restrained to a lesser influence by Terran. Ragnar was treated like an outcast and for a god to be shackled to this kind of level was demeaning. Ragnar despised Terran but he also knew he was not yet strong enough to take on all three of them and so he decides to start scheming in the background. Through his subordinates he would start to spread rumors which led to hate and violence amongst the people. His targeted actions were ruthless and lingered for years. Knowing full well who would eventually be blamed for this, Terran. And so with the growing hostilities between the gods and the inevitability of war on the horizon the restraints that once held him back turned feeble. The others will remember why he was known as the strongest. "Patience is the key to everything, the weak seek to find their opportunity while the strong know when it is their time again."

The First Hero and an Unknown Evil

Despite the unbalance the Fall of the Gods would bring upon the land, it was a necessary evil. They were once shapers of the world, tasked with creating everything inside of it, and building upon their creations to give them life and complexity. Over the years, rising discourse and anger over how to lead and create gave way to disputes and wars with immeasurable casualties. The Fall of the Gods has brought forth a time of celebration and healing, along with some much-needed rest for you, who has slumbered away peacefully since the Gods’ defeat.

The Capital of Melvor has been a place of peace and jubilant festivities, with hardly an idle hour in the streets since the heroes returned. Joyous laughter and elaborate parties continued while a sinister threat gathered on the horizon, unseen by all.

You finally rouse from your slumber and depart from the simple, yet cozy tavern you had stayed in for the past few days. Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you ponder at the sudden, eerie stillness Melvor has been plunged into overnight. A blanket of thick, onyx mist chokes the sky with ghostly tendrils of an inky black substance weaving in and out of windows, doorframes, and the like. Despite your peering into shops and scouring the streets, there wasn’t a person in sight, with stalls, games, and food left suddenly and without apparent reason.

You continue on, headed towards the main gates of the Capital. The closer you get to those looming gates, the more people you could see gathered all around, seemingly frozen in place in front of the wide-open gateway. You call out, yet no noise can be heard from your throat. You try to run but find yourself unable to. It feels as if ice has clawed its way into your body, leaving you raw and cold. After trudging along slowly for what feels like hours, the citizens are within reach, each with twisted expressions of horror and fear, looking out past the gates.

You push through the silent crowd and follow their gaze to the horizon, locking your eyes upon a ruined tower in the distance. The windows and cracks of the pillar seep black mist, which continues to pour out at a frightening pace despite the seemingly frozen state of everything else. You reach out towards the tower and see your hand quickly become engulfed. Your feet follow quickly after, despite repeated attempts to kick the substance away. The mist locks you in place and creeps up your body, pulling you into the ground. It floods into your mouth, filling your lungs as you try to cry out. Things become so... incredibly cold. Every bit of heat is sapped from your body, leaving a bitter chill that freezes you to your core. Despite your struggles, it quickly consumes you, pulling you into the frozen earth.

With a sudden snap, light flickers back, and the cold recedes from your body, almost as quickly as it had come. Despite feeling warm, you still feel… tainted. Sick, in a way. You look around and see a high vaulted ceiling and dark cobbled stone. Starlight filters into the room, illuminating great illustrations of gold-clad warriors and an ancient throne. Four smaller thrones are dotted throughout the room, though they currently sit empty and seemingly have for ages. From the main throne, you hear a hearty chuckle, followed by a couple of short, raspy coughs.

“It’s been awhile since a Vorloran has managed to make their way into my tower. I presume you came to strike me down, no?”

You begin to speak, but a sputtering cough rattles out instead as remnants of dark mist are expelled from your lungs. “Who are you?” You croak.

“I am a being far beyond your comprehension. Simply put, I may be your undoing, though time is yet to tell. As it currently stands though, it simply doesn’t matter who I am.”

You move to draw your weapon but are quickly restrained by black mist that floods into the room. “There’s no need for that. One shouldn’t enter a home and threaten the owner. They could quickly find themselves… incapacitated.” A sick, toothy grin creeps across the being’s face. The cloaked figure shakes their head and continues. “Defeating the Gods was impressive, but your true test still lays ahead. The girl must be stopped.”

The cloaked figure extends an open palm towards you. “Now, begone.” You hear them quietly whisper, “Ret Nni Iwm Ete Ami Its Lu The” before they close their hand. You blink, and find yourself far, far from Melvor. People rush past you, nearly knocking you over. Time seems to have returned to normal.

“What’s going on? Where are you all off to?” You ask a staring passerby.

“It’s all over. Grab what you can and run as far as possible. Do not let the mist catch you.” They quickly take off, random bits and belongings tumbling out of their arms as they run along.

Confused, you approach a woman, huddled into a corner and heavily sobbing. “She’s gone! We’re all doomed! There’s no hope left!”

“Who is it? Who’s gone?”

“Ahrenia… our hero. She ventured into the mist… and never returned.”

You back up, even more confused. As your situation settles in, mist starts to trickle over the eastern wall of the city as a crowd frantically runs by. A thought creeps into your mind. Is this… truly the end?

New Dawn

The Vorlorans were a race of people who gladly worshipped the Gods and spread their influence across the land with fervor. Setting up shrines and churches, gathering offerings, and spreading word of the Gods were commonplace. In return, the Gods blessed harvests, summoned rains to extinguish fires, and granted strength to those in need. Things continued like this for many years with little complaint from either side.

The people elected a special group of holy warriors, which they named The Warriors of Vorloran. This group was tasked to root out and kill any evil creatures that rose throughout the land of Melvor, cutting out rot and darkness across the land. Among the Warriors of Vorloran rose a leader, named Ahrenia. She happily accepted the role of commander and led the warriors well, quickly rising to fame throughout the land for her good deeds and skill in combat.

As the war between The Gods began their sudden disappearance had left the Warriors of Vorloran to fend for themselves in their fight against evil. Their weapons and armor no longer carried their blessings that once protected them and with it their dependence on the gods had now left them vulnerable. Unease began to sweep through the ranks, fearing an unstoppable evil would eventually arrive. Their fears would then become a reality as rumours began to spread of a dangerous mist approaching.

The Mist, said to have appeared out of the blue, was already destroying the outer towns of Melvor. The Mist seemingly was able to take control over monsters, leaving an affliction that would turn them into a murderous undead horde, led by a Dark Entity in which the survivors named Bane. With the Warriors of Vorloran weakened they hopelessly tried to protect as many people as they could, and one by one… they fell to its afflicted army. Ahrenia, desperate to do anything she could to save her people, traveled to the meeting place of the Gods known as the Millennium Tower, located in the Vorloran capital. Within the tower no gods greeted her. Only a cloaked figure who called themselves “The Herald”. They offered her the power she needed to save her people, and, though hesitant, she accepted.

Though the mist had destroyed many towns and cities, there was still much to save, and Ahrenia rushed back to do as much as she could. With their hero returned to them, many celebrated and gathered arms, ready to fight back against the dark entity with renewed vigor. They marched off with songs in their heart, with Ahrenia leading them. All too soon, they reached Bane’s army and met the entity face to face. With a cry, Ahrenia charged forward, her blade glowing brightly and the Warriors of Vorloran all behind her. Her mastery of the combat arts shone in the battlefield, as fast as light her blade tore through all that tried to attack her, switching effortlessly to her to bow to help out the people around her and using magic to wipe out hundreds in a blink of an eye. Her men followed closely behind trying to keep her safe so she could focus on leading and casting. Her men frequently cried out in pain, others in fury, desperately fighting the unending hordes.

Soon enough, Ahrenia met face to face with Bane, who tried desperately to drive her back with torrents of magic. She pressed on, landing clean blows against Bane who struck back with equal force. With both suffering substantial damage, Ahrenia gathered her strength and pointed her sword towards the sky. A ray of golden light poured down from the heavens, driving the mist back. The normally silent Bane screeched out with a blood-curdling cry, “Herald! I have failed you!” Ahrenia faltered, hearing the name of The Herald, but believing in her strength she aimed it towards Bane. Just as the edge of the golden light pierced Bane’s rotten, fetid flesh… it stopped. As did she. She looked around in horror as the mist quickly cascaded back all around her, swallowing her men and blotting out the sun. She tried to scream out, but no words came. The last thing she saw was a cloaked figure approaching her.

Now with what little power she has left she offers it to you, “Vorloran, you must find a way to stop the Herald at all costs, search the lands and oceans for anything that will help you, you are our final hope now.”

Beginning of the End

Whether it was by some stroke of luck, divine intervention, or a demonstration of your own indefatigable will, you managed to bring Ahrenia back from the brink. It took momentous effort not only from you, but from the few living souls still left within Melvor, who desperately fought back Bane’s creatures while you were away.

You and Ahrenia limp back to the Capital. Days, weeks, or even months could have flown by in the time it took you both to walk through the war-ravaged lands surrounding the battered and broken towns and villages dotted throughout the charred landscape. Silent followers follow after the two of you as you made your way back. They had nowhere else to go. The Capital was the last bastion of safety they knew of, so they trail behind you, like moths following a small spark of hope in the night. Idle chatter mentioned other cities out in the mist, filled with survivors, holding out hope that they could weather whatever comes next.

A glimmer of relief washes over the crowd’s soot-covered faces as you and Ahrenia walk through the Capital’s gates. There are far fewer people, even here, than when you first left. Your entourage of weary soldiers and scarred peasants dissipate into the crowd, thankful to be amongst the living, and behind solid walls.

The ruler of the Capital welcomes the two of you with open arms, thankful to have a modicum of the burden lifted from her shoulders. She allows you both within the palace, which appears to have been converted into equal parts command center and soup kitchen. Rations are being dolled out to a line of hungry children while soldiers anxiously eye the sky and run to and fro.

Over the next few days, you rest. Ahrenia tentatively knocks on your door from time to time, bringing in people she’s deemed as potentially helpful. Each of them recounts similar tales of Bane, The Dark Entity. How he appears from seemingly nowhere, often without warning, bombarding places with a rain of fire before a choking carpet of black mist sweeps in shortly after.

You managed to keep a running history of all that occurred from the numerous visitors you had. It’s said that Bane was first spotted as The Four sequestered themselves away, deep within their dungeons. His dark mist swept over the entirety of the eastern lands, with those who succumbed to it raising back up once again. Droves of these undead creatures swept through the land, cutting a bloody swath all the way up to the Eastern Capital.

It was there that some of the best warriors and mages stood their ground against Bane’s army for an entire day, fighting on nothing but determination alone, long after their bodies had failed them. The tides turned in their favor, and the undead horde was driven back… until Bane appeared from the sky. Almost effortlessly, he made fire rain from the sky, not only tearing apart what was left of those defending the city, but shattering the walls in mere moments.

The undead eagerly destroyed the ravaged defense forces, which of course rose shortly after their deaths to join the ever-increasing horde. Massive fires broke out, consuming neighborhoods in minutes as the scattered and horrified civilians did all they could to escape. Few did. And of the few that managed to escape the slaughter, fewer still managed to hold onto their sanity after seeing those horrors. Any place not surrounded by thick walls had already surely fallen, much like the hamlets and villages you and Ahrenia passed through as you returned to the Capital.

Ahrenia let you digest the information and history over the course of a day before approaching you as you leave your room for the first time since entering the palace.

“Bane will come here, eventually. They’re only growing in power as more cities fall to him and his horde.”

You nod. You’re unsure of what drives him, but you already knew for certain he’d be coming here sooner or later.

Ahrenia was always said to be a hero, one who traded everything in exchange for incredible power. She was passionate, outspoken, and a natural-born leader. But now, she stands here, weary and pleading. Whatever confidence she once held herself with was gone, bleakly accepting the situation. She slumps against the wall and allows herself to slowly slide to the floor.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard. I almost struck him down, once.”

Your lips part, speaking for the first time in days. “And that’s when you were lost to the mist?”

Ahrenia seems almost surprised at hearing your voice, almost as if she didn’t expect to be heard. “Yes. He… Bane… Called out. To a man called The Herald. He said he failed him. The Herald… a least a man claiming to be him… was the same man that gave me my power.”

“This… Herald. Could he be playing both sides? And… to what end?”

She only sadly shakes her head before sighing deeply and raising once again. “I have no idea… All I know is that we need to be ready for whatever happens. This might not end with Bane alone…”

“How long have we got?”

She shrugs, before giving a slight smile. “I dunno. Could be a day. Could be a year. Whatever happens, if you were able to pull me out of that mist… I think we’ve got a shot. Rest up.” She claps you hard on the shoulder before turning back to her room.

You need to be ready. You have to be.

Impending Darkness

The dust settles. The battlefield around you is a charred mess with little beyond rubble around you. Ahrenia is close behind you, panting heavily. The creature in front of you is missing an arm, and blood pours from multiple wounds which should have killed him.

You cry out, “Bane, this ends now!”

Bane braces himself and calls out in return, “Herald! I. Am. Ready!”

A familiar crumbling tower appears in the distance. You’re unsure as to whether or not it was always there, or if it materialized out of thin air. A man appears, and trailing behind him is an inky, swirling mist.

Ahrenia manages to choke out, “It’s... That’s the Herald…”

The large, dark figure walks closer to the two of you, raising their hand and speaking as you begin to charge at it. “There’s nothing left for either of you to do beyond accepting your fates.”

As you get closer, you each swipe your blades at the Herald, both of which are stopped by an invisible force that locks them in place.

The Herald smirks. “Your trial begins now.”

He suddenly appears behind Ahrenia despite not moving and easily knocks her across the open field. She skids until her body hits the remains of a scorched tree. You ready your crossbow and fire it at the Herald’s throat, but the bolt stops inches away from it before dropping to the ground. It chuckles. “Useless.”

You continue in a frenzy, doing everything you can to land a single blow, all of which are easily deflected or stopped entirely by an unseen force you can only assume the Herald controls. Ahrenia joins you, side by side, but makes similar progress.

You both decide on a combined strike, using up what little is left of your energy. Ahrenia points her sword into the air and light pours into it as you prepare the Ocean Song. You both cry out, directing everything towards the Herald…

And then he raises a hand. “Not enough.” You’re both lifted into the air and cast aside, clattering roughly on the ground.

The Herald stands over Bane, and their booming voice fills the room as you both gather your senses. “You were the greatest of my many creations.”

The dying Bane seems to beam at the Herald’s praise. He tries to stand, but the Herald waves away his effort.

“Bane, you will be remembered for what happened here.” The Herald turns, their lifeless purple eyes boring deep within your very soul. “And you will not. You cannot stop fate.”

A moment passes before two final words leave The Herald’s mouth. “Eternum… Noxia.” A wave of energy instantly reverberates across the landscape. The world itself begins to twist and distort around you, before beginning to seemingly shake apart at its very seams. The Herald cracks a twisted, toothy smile, surveying the process. You lose grip on reality, and as you begin to question what’s real and what’s merely an illusion, the earth splits open and swallows you whole.

***

You snap awake to an unfamiliar bed, breathless, and in a cold sweat. Ahrenia blearily rubs her eyes before fully taking into account that you’re awake. When she does, she gives you a sad smile.

You cough as she hands you water, which you greedily drink down. After a moment of collecting yourself, you manage to speak. “What… happened?”

“The Herald used Bane to cast something… unthinkable. Everywhere I know of is teeming with monsters I’ve never seen or heard of before. Even the capital is swarming with them. You’ve been out for a few days.”

You groan. Everything you had been building towards… was for naught. Bane may be gone, if what Ahrenia is saying is true… then there’s no hope left. “What now, then..?”

Surprisingly, she looks… hopeful? “We were approached by… a dragon. It seems incredibly intelligent and it wanted to… speak with you. A large green dragon is waiting here to be our guide. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

You roll out of bed to find yourself in surprisingly good shape, despite the beating you took only a couple of days ago. You grab your gear and leave the large tent you were placed in. Sure enough, a dragon with emerald scales that glitter in the sunlight lowers its head as you approach. The two of you hop on, holding on for dear life as it speeds towards a large volcano.

After a few minutes of flying, you slowly release your vice-like grip on the dragon. Ahrenia sits dumbstruck, taking in both the beauty… and horror… of the world around you. Between wispy cotton clouds, you catch glimpses of the changed world. It’s too difficult to make out distinct details, but large, chaotic scars mark the landscape. Massive fissures snake away from the battlefield, twisting in strange and unique patterns.

You disembark, followed shortly after by Ahrenia. Intricate carvings and decor line the walls of the volcano, with deep winding chambers and large piles of gold and other treasures dotted around the place. You finally enter a large, open room, where numerous dragons eye you anxiously. An ink-black dragon with a smattering of red drops its head to your level, coming eye to eye with you. “You’re the hero that your people spoke of. It’s truly an honor.”

Completely bewildered by the entire situation, you eye Ahrenia, who only nods in encouragement and gestures back to the dragon. As you struggle to find the words, the beast lets out a deep rumble. “My, you’re humble as well. There’s no fault in accepting praise. I understand how tired you must be, though. Unfortunately, there’s little time for rest.”

“Is there anything I can do at this point..?”

“Of course. We know what the Herald has done, and we need a way to stop them. We need time, and we need to stop the Four Gods, and then locate the Herald before it’s too late.”

A million questions surge through your mind. “The Gods..? I’ve already defeated them. What do you mean we need to stop them?”

Everyone in the room gives you a bewildered expression. The large dragon eyes you curiously. “This isn’t the time for games. As we speak, the Gods are gaining more power and more reinforcements. Reinforcements provided by the Herald.”

Slowly, the dragon’s words sink in as the room starts to spin. You pinch your brow between your fingers as you let out a shaky breath. Ahrenia gives you a pat on the back and concern washes over her face, but it’s only directed at you, not the situation.

“I… I... “ You start to choke out, trying to grasp the situation. You’ve… killed the Gods already. “What… do I call you?”

The dragon outstretches its wings and stands tall, creating quite an imposing figure. “You may call me by the name your people have given me. Malcs, Leader of Dragons.”

Your head swirls as the dragon’s words hang in the air. You manage to catch a glimpse outdoors as four beams of light shoot up into the sky, each belonging to their own respective gods.

#	Monster
1	Barbara Scott	Disabled	a
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