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Post by Peregrine Alexander on Jan 8, 2013 18:19:10 GMT 10
The cold morning air hits you as your steam-powered airship coasts easily among the clouds. You nudge your horse into a faster gallop, so you can outrun your friends. You command an army of thousands in the most powerful nation in the known world. You dismount from your dragon as your subordinates bow before you. You stifle a giggle as you snatch a mortal child from his sleep as you whisk him away to the land of the faeries. You manage the busiest port in the world. You are a convict, living in a swamp and fighting just to survive.
A renaissance is blossoming across the land of Speirling and still, war is brewing. Dark plots are whispered behind locked doors as the storm clouds gather. After all, isn’t that was “Speirling” means in the Language of the Ancients? It means “gathering storm”. And a storm is gathering as the mighty kingdoms eye each other, seizing each other up and an underground movement rumbles, their muffled cries screaming for revolution.
This is the world of Speirling. Seven kingdoms, each vying to be in control. The only thing stopping all-out war is Ioralta Academy, a school for the great men (and reluctantly, depending on who you talk to, women) of tomorrow. This school is the mutual work of all seven kingdoms, even Teumnach, the faery land.
The world is just waiting…waiting for the flame to be lit.
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