The Great War, the one they call the War of Enlightenment, ended a generation ago. They say we won. I guess they're right. I mean, we're still here, right? Don't get me wrong, I'm not ungrateful, and I certainly don't think the other side should have won. From what I hear, the whole rotten outhouse would have come down around our ears had that happened. And this New World of ours sure has its advantages. Skyships for one.
What, you didn't know about that? Before the war, skyships didn't exist. Only your average, run of the mill, leaky old surface barges. Then along came these big damn heroes in a flying boat and saved the world. Now everyone and their uncle has a skyship. Oh, and they were magicians, these heroes. And so now they're everywhere too. Mages, I mean. I guess that's a good thing though. First of all, they're not all bad sorts, and then there's all the nasty stuff left over from the war still out there. The mages are dealing with that, or so they say at least. Good thing too, seeing as they're the ones let them loose. I wouldn't say that to one of them if I were you. They'd turn you into a newthog and set you afire soon as look at you if you did.
What nasty stuff? Listen lad, because this is damned important. In this world of ours, nightmares are real, and they're the least of your worries. As I understand it, there was another great war a thousand years ago, and that time the winners locked down all magics and everything they didn't think belonged here. During this last one, all those doors were busted wide open, and now of course, anything can come through. Nowadays you need to be careful what you say, and never - I mean NEVER - make a wish in front of anyone you don't trust completely. And don't accept a favour unless you know exactly what is expected in return. There are just too many things out there that'll latch on to something like that and then you're properly and irrevocably buggered. Oh, and always carry a cold steel dagger, a pistol loaded with a silver bullet, and as many wards as you can afford.
One way to avoid having your soul bound to some demon because you make a drunken wager with a stranger is to pledge it to a god. Luckily there are plenty of those to chose from. Used to be that wasn't the case though. That previous great war I mentioned was called the Godslayer War. Guess what that was all about. Now there are more gods around than you can shake a stick at. They say that if you give your soul to one of them they'll keep you safe as long as you live.
Now should you die here that's another kettle of fish altogether. You see, back in the day when you died, a Ferryman came and fetched your soul. Then some nimrod back during the war went and killed the king of the dead - don't ask me how. Now there's no one controlling the Underworld, and so once you pass through the Pale you're fair game for anything that wants to snack on your soul. There are ways to ensure your salvation of course. If you're lucky, or rich, you'll have a psychopomp nearby when you keel over. Or you'll have purchased yourself a Stygian coin. With one of those bad boys in your purse, a Ferryman will come and pick you up no matter where you are. They're damn expensive though.
But I've been rambling on for a good spell now and I'm thirsty. Tell me your story, lad. What's it like on Corregidor?
Storyteller's note: A few year's ago we ended to Pius Chronicles. In the time that's passed since then, the World of Argos has never been far from my mind. Now it looks like I'll be going back again, and with the same crew. We now live on different continents, but we'll be trying out Google Hangouts for our return to Argos.
It is good to be back again.