Fan Lore Entry Compendium


Hey, I’m Sirius, and I’m a writer who hopes to one day write for CPG as someone who expands the lore of Mythron. Since only one entry is allowed for the lore contest, but I was itching to show more fanworks, I figured I might as well start posting them and maybe if I’m good enough I’ll get noticed by the right people? Who knows :B

I’ll be following the lore contest’s specifications: name of the card, flavor text, and a 200-300 word short story. Without further ado, here’s the first.


Some things should be forgotten. Others cannot be allowed to.

Ever since The First Blooming, there is magic in Mythron that dare not even be spoken in whispers—tomes bound in leather whose veins still beat, ink the color of stale blood on stained vellum giving readers sane too much knowledge, and those insane, too many opportunities. But impossible locks and impenetrable puzzles can only hope to prevent future slaughters; it does nothing to erase the memories of the past.

What is a life of a lone mage—perhaps forced to recite the morbid rites before unassailable cities, perhaps honored to be chosen by the tithe—to a ruler’s temptation of a war won with only one soldier lost? What is the cost of machines of war, of feeding armies, of smithing weaponry, when all it takes to bring a nation to its knees is a single ritual sacrifice?

A Vetruvian city is no more. Some petty squabble between minor nobility spoilt by riches led to a thousand thousand deaths, all in a matter of moments. Blood-tinged violet spires strike out from the ground, cracking mosaic pavements, piercing through buildings, spreading across the metropolis like a thorny cancer. Perhaps a few moments of screams of surprise, then terror, and then a sickening lurch as the ground begins to crumble. Those purple spikes ever so quickly consumed all in their path, risen from deep underground, leaving nothing of the city but a deep crater, crystal spreading throughout the depths like veins of a spider’s web, pulsing softly, the stench of death in the air.

A trio of carrion crows circle in the skies above the crater for just a moment before descending to gorge on a sickening feast that would fester for weeks. The laypeoples of Mythron have since forgotten the scriptures the spell required. The Arcanysts, try as they might, cannot.



“She was innocent, once”

The moonlight grows harsh as the night lengthens. Stars grow blinding white, thousands of burning bright eyes judging all of Mythron beneath them. Beasts huddle for warmth and seek shelter from their wintry gaze; men lock their doors and shuttere their windows.

Dioltas walks the world tonight.

They say in whispers that she was human, once, and you look behind you, the only thing following you for now your own shadow, too clear at your feet below the moon’s glare.

The Harbinger, they whisper, voices echoing iin your mind, just a girl who dove too deep into the unforgiving madness of the oldest magics. Body twisted and mind warped, emotions withered and dead under uncaring old gods’ instructions. You lengthen your stride.

She comes on the coldest midwinter nights, they whisper, just like this one, lingering in this realm to seek a new thrall, willing for an unlife of fealty in exchange for the knowledge of forbidden magics and secrets that should have been left unstirred in their slumber.

You smile softly when you find her, robes swirling around her without wind.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she says. “Come. Sit. Listen.” You obey your master without question.


bump. are bumps allowed here


I hope this one is :slight_smile:


what a necro guys


Well, I gotta join necros since I will never dare necro myself.
Let’s just say I leech the necromancy from actual necromancers.


I’m going ahead to close the thread do to necro. Feel free to start a new post with your lore writings however :slight_smile:.