Myths and Legends

The cradle of spirit and idea. At its center sits Einsol's Forge — the birthplace of light and shadow. Azturium pulses with pure essence: dreams, divine powers, and ancestral spirits dwell here. It is called the Realm of Origin, though its paths are too sacred — or too dangerous — for most mortals to tread.

The crown of gnomish civilization — a city of arcane spires, clockwork districts, and the world's greatest research institutions, erased in eleven seconds by a 50-megaton nuclear strike during the Sundering War.

Sometimes called the Great Periphery, Bhiahra is a place of incomprehensible forces and ancient beings. It is the space between stars and stories, where ethereals walk in slumber or madness. Most legends agree: if you drift too far into Bhiahra, you don't die — you are rewritten.

Three layers. One architecture. The universe of Einsol's Razor is not a single plane of existence — it is a nested structure of reality, each layer serving a distinct cosmic function.

As recorded by the Eloharian Church. Origin and date of composition: disputed.

Either the oldest continuously inhabited settlement on Aerlyth or a myth so well-maintained it has outlasted the nations that tried to find it. The Halflings don't confirm or deny — which is itself confirmation.

An Or'sìth island nation that stepped sideways out of reality to survive the Sundering War — and has now returned, six centuries later, changed.

A principled city-state born from Ardentmere's independence movement, destroyed in the 1940s during the War of the Burning Skies. It refused evacuation. Its ruins still move.

A legendary Gnomish civilization said to have mastered sacred geometry, harmonic resonance, and portals to the Ethereal Plane — before vanishing in a catastrophic event known as the Resonance Rift.

As preserved in the common tradition of Adamah. Rendered here in the manner of the ancient recitations.

A story of betrayal, bondage, and a broken gate. As sung in the Lament of Gi'lion — an Or'sìth dream-chant rarely spoken aloud.

As told in the Halfling Folklore of the Shifting Markets. Passed down through song, rumor, and campfire chant.

Scholars call it Luminogrove Isle, though no map agrees on its location. Some say it appears only when the moon and the sun align in a particular way that happens once in a generation. Others say it sank beneath the waves at the very height of its glory, taking its wonders with it. A few whisper that it was never meant to be found — only remembered.

You hear it at last call, when the neon starts to blur and the crowd thins out. Someone leans in across the table and says: I need to tell you what happened to me last week.

They say the Ohros did not make the Mal'akh in a single hour or a single shape. They made them across ages, each order shaped for a purpose, each bearing a different piece of the divine design. To see one is to see only a fragment. To know all fourteen orders is to begin — only begin — to understand what the Ohros intended.

Seven divine architects. Seven forces woven into the fabric of existence itself. They did not build the universe the way a craftsman builds a chair. They are the universe, expressing itself through will and intention. Creation, time, matter, life, death, dreams, the infinite cosmos — each governed by one of the Seven, each inseparable from the whole.

An ancient desert city, thriving for three millennia at a shared oasis — then gone. Not destroyed. Not conquered. Just empty.

In the age before Adamah, when mortals were still new and the gardens of Solehaquin bloomed with starlight, it is said that one of the Ohros set aside their distance and walked among creation.