Vesteria Lore Contest

Hi everyone! I’m working on a new feature: books!

For the very first book to be added to Vesteria, I’m reaching out to the community for a lore contest!

Whoever can create the most compelling story that fits our world will have their tale immortalized in Vesteria!

Your story can be

  • Non-fiction, set in the world of Vesteria, in a biography or documentary style, to explain a facet of the world, a location, or an event of great significance

  • Fiction, a children’s book, old legend, myth set in the world of Vesteria. Must have some meaning and significance to the reader.

  • A guide (set in the world of Vesteria!) that teaches the player about something they may not know about.

:warning: Please do not post any non-story replies to this thread. :warning:

Post your stories down below, and vote/react to share feedback about stories.

If you wish to make revisions to a story, please edit your original post instead of making a new reply



:warning: Please do not post any non-story replies to this thread. :warning:

Don’t take someone else breaking the rules as invitation to do so yourself. Will be issuing bans to anyone who doesn’t take this thread seriously.

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Here’s something I wrote 40 days ago. Hope it still goes!

Diary found in an abandoned house near Port Fidelio. The pages are yellowed from aging.

"A few fortnights ago, I met a sunburnt old seaman. A captain, who claimed to have sailed the great seas. He talked of the strangest things, of human beings, “Players”. Ones who need not sleep, coming and going as they wish. Even popping in and out of existence itself!

At first, I dismissed it as a mad man’s rambling, but lately the idea has grown on me. I have now started to wonder if there is not truth to his words.

I must investigate further."

There are no further entries.


The Tale of of the Great Mushroom War

You, the player, find an old, strange diary that belonged to a very old woman in a house in the Farmlands.

You had to pay the man who owned the house to search for 50 silver. It was not worth it. The only thing that seemed valuabe was nothing more than a tattered piece of garbage. It reads:

The Great Mushroom War was one that sparked in a secluded area of the land of Vesteria, only being known by past generations and the generations of those ancestors. From this knowledge… it is unclear of what happened. As far as we know, the inhabitants lost.

A great, old king known by his huge statue, long beard, and massive circumference of his top. He is said to be an allpowerful, all poisonous being that one touch can give extreme sickness to anything of his surroundings. That includes non-living.

With his power, he wiped out the enemy and made that land his own. He has a great, great deal for wrecking, anguish, and fear. In fact, he loves torturing people that aren’t of his own kind. Nobody knows what happened next, but the Mushroom people that roam the lands.

You tuck the piece of paper into your pocket. You walk out and scold the man of scamming you for your money and leave.

However, what you just read was something that would scar you with fear into the heart of him: The Mushroom King.

Anything italics is NOT a part of the story, but actions to lead up to the finding of the story.


Alas, The world we live in has dangers across every corner…
And where there is danger, there is also treasure.
I, Reindi the Swift have decided to take it upon myself to find treasures and leave something of slightly less value in their place, for any who come after me.

Expedition 1:

I walked into a forest full of deadly fungi, in which I found that the large, overgrown mushrooms seem to work extremely well for launching oneself into the air.

As I was walking through it, studying if there was a good spot to hide a treasure of some kind, I noticed what looked like a hut built into the tops of one of the trees and decided to make my way over to see what it was.

As I got around the base of the tree, I noticed a cluster of the large, bouncy mushrooms close enough where if one was to jump at the right angle on one they may be able to get up.

I Reindi the Swift have decided to attempt the jump, leaving this page of my notebook behind.
Should i not return, please do not attempt the jump


Transcription from a rock carving:
O highest mountain! O lowest valley! Wave and breeze, blasting thunder! You who speak, why have the people forgotten? Your glory-days have not passed!


Non-Fiction, a tale of redwood pass:
Even though Redwood Pass is a quiet mountain with not much life on it other than the warriors right now, it was once home to a terrifying creature. It was a centipede as big as Nilgarf, living under the mountain. This creature gave birth to many more, and created a nest. This nest slowly expanded and the monsters started attacking the surrounding areas. This is when the populace of vesteria decided that this phenomenon must be stopped, and the warrior faction was formed to defeat them. After months of fighting they defeated the centipede, drove out the creatures and made the mountain their home.

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The Tale of the Rise and Fall of the great hunter port, Port Fidelio.

After the great war split the land of Vesteria into 3 factions, the warriors, hunters, and mages all went their separate ways to find a land that they can call home. The Warriors established their stronghold in the deep snow of the Redwood Pass mountain ranges, the mages hid from the outside world in the forest of magic and mist. And the hunters found their new home along the ocean. As time went on each faction’s cities grew stronger and larger, with their spheres of influence spreading across the land. Yet neither the warriors or mages cities could rival the great might of the Hunter’s Port Fidelio. Ruled by their mighty captain, who the city is named after, Captain Fidelio. The hunter’s port city prospered with the benefits of any port city, growing larger and richer in resources, nothing could go wrong. Or so the citizens thought.

It was a cold winter day, half a year after the three factions met back up to discuss the creation of a hub city, that a warrior was sent in undercover, into the hunter’s port city. The warriors were jealous of the strength of the hunters, for the hunters were prospering, while the warriors were dying. So the general of the warriors thought of a plan.

The general the day before announced to his council the plan of sending Sir Tristan, a brave knight who was very skilled in combat, into the port city, to steal resources and food, to last the warriors that winter. The council agreed with the idea, for the winter was the harshest yet, and the hunters would be fine without the resources they were taking, and so the plan a day after, was executed.

When Sir Tristan entered Port Fidelio, he set up a group of followers. He promised these men free access to the safety of the warrior stronghold, and a lot of cash on top, as long as they followed his every command. And so these workers went out, slowly stealing barrels of fish and other foods, to feed the warriors. Everything seemed to be going fine for the warriors, and the general decided to call off the plan once it became spring, but Sir Tristan had other plans.

The fateful night, a day before the coming of spring, Sir Tristan set off a plan to assassinate the Captain Fidelio, and ruin the Hunters once and for all. He didn’t tell his general about this plan, for if he did, he would ruin the attempt to kill the general too. And so when a barrel of wine was sent to the warrior stronghold, straight for the dining hall, Sir Tristan made sure it was poisoned. And when Captain Fidelio’s best friend served him the best batch of wine for the coming spring, Sir Tristan made sure, that the captain would die.

The events after the dual deaths between the two factions are well known. Sir Tristan, with his band of followers, looted the city of all its glory and set up their own tyrannical reign. And the prosperous Port Fidelio became a shell of its former self. Admiral Hugo had no clue of the plan, and Tristan faced no punishment back home, and only a few special survivors, know what happened that fateful day.

When the great Port city, fell.

I submit my first lore I ever wrote for Vesteria. It is also the first lore post to be made on the forums.

Voiced Video by Harryisbeast:

Revised Version for Berezaa - Fixed Grammar

The first settlers of Vesteria were adventurers like you and me. The factions have always existed throughout Vesteria’s history and were established upon reaching the land. Those with the ability to use magic were regarded as the mages and first used their power to seal the gates from unwanted visitors. The mage faction was established to explore this new fantasy power. The hunters were the common people, those who provided food for their villages and were established as a way to teach others to hunt and provide food for other settlements. The warriors were the strongest and would fight in the arena for sport and were established to train better warriors for better entertainment.

All was peaceful in the beginning, there were no creatures like the life sucking spider, or walking mushrooms, the people thrived. Mages spread out from their faction home and became healers to villages and performers to great houses. Mages were respected for their elegance in the spectral craft and were celebrated at festivals. The Warriors were cheered for in the arena, the people would come from afar to see them fight. The arena was never a place of blood and death, and the champions never sought to kill each other. This was truly a peaceful time and the people thrived!

Time went by, the factions stayed a part of everyday life. Mages would heal the sick and give spectacle to the bored. Hunters would gather food for their families and entertain themselves in the tranquility of nature. Warriors fought and trained for the title of champion in the arena and soaked in the glory of cheers from the crowds. What most people do not understand is that magic is a substance of pure power formed from the emotion of a mage. It is not a liquid or solid, gas or plasma, it is energy. Magic lets those few who can use it, control it and bend it to their will. As time pressed, mages soon began to see that their magic, for healing and for elegance, was equally as destructive. A small group out of the Mages Faction came to protest their allowance into the arena to fight. In their ignorance, the Archmage and council supported their acceptance into the arena to fight. And so it began, the first mages were sent into the arena under watchful eyes, mainly by the masters of the arena who stood to gain for their competition.

The people were upset at the protesting by the Mages Faction to be welcomed into the arena. As with all things, people chose sides and became defensive. It is our Vesterian nature to do so, and we would not be without it. There were those who claimed the mages would ‘destroy the honor and tradition’ in the arena. Then those who claimed that mages should be welcomed because they are equal. In reality, it was those who wanted to see them fight with magic against those who just wanted to be upset at things, it was never a true protest. The masters of the arena saw how it could benefit them, and those greedy swine allowed the mages in, to make them money. The people were upset and at the first match, warrior against mage, the people degraded the mage in the midst of battle. They slandered his name and spirit and magic.

Magic is not something to be trifled with. A mage uses his/her emotion to control magic; in battle, the mage can become stressed, and so does the magic. In the first battle of the arena, the mage near killed the warrior. This silenced the crowd as the arena had never been a place of death, and the fear of it was enough to scare the watchers. This was the beginning of the three hundred year war. After seeing the power of the mage in battle, the arena masters beckoned the mage guild to send more fighters. People came from all over the place to see mages kill warriors and it be cheered on from the crowd. The Warrior Faction became one of killing and forfeited all honor. The new code of the arena was killed or be killed. Vesteria would soon no longer be in a time of peace.

The first two paragraphs would be the only understandable lore that can be used.


You pick a green, rusty old book out of the man’s bookshelf, wiping off dust. The name, though hard to read, is ‘Old Tales Long Forgotten’. There is no author. Proceed?

In the village of Mushtown, long before the name Greybeard the Old got his name, sat a young mage adventurer, scribbling down a map for their next journey. Their name was John, a plain name suited for a perfectly plain man, and they had a plan. They planned to start a large guild–bigger than even the greatest warrior could ever dream of–full of spellcasters just like him. He wanted to show those who carry swords and daggers that they, too, could fight, and he would let nothing stand in his way.

“Hey, John? That’s an awesome map, but we’ve already told you no.” A woman just as old as he approached, bearing great armor suited only for the highest Paladins in Vesteria. John’s eyebrows furrowed, his mouth opening, about to interrupt. “Look, kid: We admire your… ambitious attitude,” a few men behind her snickered, “but no, we will not allow you to come with us. The Spider Queen is dangerous; way too hard for someone like you.”

For years now, mages have been shown disrespect for their abilities, people claiming that they cannot do a thing in a real battle. That’s why John wanted to prove them wrong–make a faction for those who understood just as much as him how unfair it was. His first attempt failed, as he asked hardly anyone if they’d like to join. They said no. So, he tried to show them how great one could be. That failed too.

“But that’s not fair! I can fight just as well as anyone here!” he barked, standing up and crossing his arms. “I can fight the Queen and win, so why not let me help you?”

The woman and her friends sized him up and laughed. “Fine then! Go on and beat her!”

And so he did. He came back with broken bones, bruises and a story to tell. If only the story was as great as he hoped it would be.

John woke up from a coma astounded. On his side table was an abundance of cards, newspapers, and everything in between. There before him lay a paper with the headline, ‘One man changes history: the story of John Greybeard’. After he fought the Spider Queen (and failed), mages from all over gathered and protested against the stupid stereotype of not being able to defend themselves by finishing what he started.

Two weeks after the whole event occurred, young John Greybeard accomplished his dream. He was now a faction leader, and he was going to make things right.

Lost diary entry No.1 Found near Scruff’s house at the very beginning of game.

You might wonder where have you appeared. Me and my husband found you lying in the forest/woods unconscious/insensible, but scared be not! This is the land of mighty creatures named Shrooms. Are they mushrooms or maybe people on whom a curse was sent by some evil witch? Who knows. Only thing you need to be aware of is that this place is not safe for someone like you. You now need to do is to get out of here as soon as possible and find a small village not far from here. The forest is full of these little shrooms, I know but try to fight your way through. I reckon you should find there my husband, a very kind man. He will find you some place to stay tonight and tell you the rest. Wish you best luck on your ways.

Diary of unknown old wizard. Can be found hidden under the bole in front of entrance to the Mage city.
Part 1:

Can thou hark (hear) that? Those are trees whispering about forest’s deepest secrets. Whom can wot (know) better than they doth? They hath been watching us for thousands of years after all. Hark (listen) to 'em closely and they shall guide thee till the most end.

Part 2:

Mages are hiding 'i the mage town for ages. We were aye hunted because of our extraordinary abilities and occulted power that can be unleashed through the long practice of ancient crystal sorceries handed from generation to generation from our ancestors. Yet not necromancy. Ne’r dark sorceries of that kind. 'tis meetest (best) for us to fear it and ne’r aye (never ever) get close it othergates we’re doomed.

Yes, I used old english in the old wizard’s part but only because I think it suits the wizard that is few hundreds years old better. It doesn’t have to be that way tho.
And yes, I will add more lore in the future, but for now this is all I have.

  • Extract from the Alklestes,

"Once the world was barren. Vegetation would not grow, mortals like ourselves lived at the mercy of the tiny outcrops across the land where we could salvage berries and perhaps a cask of merciful water. I remember times where we were found nothing for multiple days - it left us broken, lifeless.

This story is however, not about the times before, but what happened to create the after.

It started on a day which was simple named, “hope”. It was the day an emissary came down to us. He was dressed in regal garments with such embroidery which you would only find in the palaces of today. We were all stricken. There must have been at least a full five minutes where we just stood and stared, it was like nothing we had ever seen. You could read the other peoples’ thoughts just by looking at their face. But the thing that perked me the most about this emissary was their lack of Gender, just a whitened hood and a mask that seemed to reflect all light, casting an intimidating black light across our camp.

After an extended period of gawking and sighs of awe, the emissary finally spoke. I will never forget the words the being spoke. When the avatar of divinity moved to speak, a slit appeared in the mask, to imitate a mouth even though the emissary was clearly inhuman.

“Subjugation to creation, Tselvurm; Liberation of your chains.” It spoke in a discriminating voice, showing its clear superiority compared to us.

“Subjugation to destruction, Fevuiours; Challenge of your existence.”

When the emissary finished speaking a brilliant white light appeared behind the figure and it walked through. The white light faded shortly after the emissary disappeared from sight.

I don’t remember a detail from what happened in those hours after the event. But when we woke, everything had changed…

I remember waking on something soft and puffed. It was the most comforting feeling I had experienced in my life. I raised my head after many hours of just lying there, not wanting it to end - a dream, surely. I looked around myself, and saw four wood built walls encasing us and a frame of what we now know to be a door implanted to one of the four walls. A single word was inscribed on the door, a word that meant, “Home”. A common name for both males and females in our lands today, and the name the world would come to be named,

We later dedicated our works to Tselvurm, the supreme being of creation the emissary spoke of.

Despite the peace we hold in our villages, out in the world we find monsters and creatures. All different kinds of hostile creations. The further we try to walk from our homes, the more dangerous these creatures became, and so we established the three factions, Warriors, Hunters, and Mages. I will write later of these three great factions that expanded our land so that our children may grow in peace, but for now we pay tribute to the other supreme being, Fevuiours, for the creatures that hoard us like pigs in a pen. We do not, and may never know, whether Fevuiours’ intentions are malicious or not, but for now this is Vesteria; This is home."

  • Written by Archmage Samuel of the faction of Mage’s.

I think a lot of people are missing what we are looking for.

The stories must be written from the perspective of a Vesterian. These are meant to add lore and background to the world and make it feel more immersive.

Referencing the player directly or otherwise breaking that fourth wall kills immersion. Your stories should be written like stories, and be compelling and entertaining.


Nameless Journal, with several pages torn out and covered in webs

“Day 1, Our expedition into the Forest is going as expected, a few goblins and gnomes have been sighted, but other than that nothing noteworthy has shown up, other than Keegan saying he saw something in the center.”

“Day 3, Keegan was right, he saw something, couldn’t make it out what it was, but it ran off into the pit, which supposedly a mine of sorts. My guess is it’s just another goblin.”

“Day 4, Last night we lost one of the hunters, said he was going to check out a noise no one else heard, he didn’t come back, though he left his tomahawk buried in the ground next to the cave with a rope around it, likely went down there and can’t get out, will be departing soon to find him.”

“Day 4, can’t see a thing down here without a torch, lots of webbing within, Keegan and a few others had to cut through it. How long has this place been abandoned? I refuse to believe what the rumors are saying about these giant spiders living in here.”

'Day 5, can’t get back up, the rope we used wasn’t as secure as we thought, and now we’re trapped down here, half of our force has gone further down, while Keegan, myself, and 2 others remain here."

“Day ??, we followed after no contact from the rest of the party, the spiders are real, lost the mage to one. the 3 of us are trying to brute force our way out, but we’re hopelessly lost.”

“Day ??, found a giant cave with light coming from it, as well as a crown on the ground nearby. I think we found our way out, or maybe some gnomes/goblins that would at least direct us out.”

The rest of the journal is empty.

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Not sure if a second submission counts, but I am writing one anyway.

This post does have some ties with my previous post, but they both don’t need each other to make sense.

A Legend, of a Land Above the Clouds

When there was war between the factions down on the great plains of Vesteria, only the ones above, brought us peace. Long ago there used to be a great city on the grounds of Vesteria. This citadel, as some called it, was a place of peace and tranquility. Where magic could roam free, and the people were one with the monsters. It was a time of great joy, but it didn’t last forever.

One day, a group of dark spellcasters decided to lay siege against the citadel, to destroy it, and to spark a conflict of war. They used the same magic that the citadel used for good, against them, and this symbolic act of destruction, was devastating to all. People ran into their homes, as wave after wave of dark magic was flung at the citadel. The guards of all four factions set up their posts and defended the citadel hard. Yet the onslaught of destruction was too much, and the spellcasters took the citadel.

Women and children were slaughtered, while the men were chained and brainwashed, to continue their fight. Fathers were forced to kill their own families, while the evil spellcasters just watched. All of the survivors fled to Catantro, the only other fortress that would be strong enough to withstand an attack. As the warriors, hunters, and mages fled, the fourth faction stayed behind in the sewers of the Citadel, for they had their own plans.

The evil spellcasters, with an army greater than before, attacked laid siege again to the city of Catantro, yet this time they lost the element of surprise. The three factions fought back, and a stalemate followed. Each side waiting for the other to run out of resources. This stalemate ended shortly though, for the fourth faction laid siege upon the evil spellcasters, from the Citadel. The spellcasters, on a retreat from Catantro towards the Citadel, were beat up by the four factions, but the citizens at Catantro realized, that once the spellcasters took back the Citadel, it was over for them.

So the spellcasters arrived back at the Citadel with their massive army, ready to lay siege back onto the city they just took, but the fourth faction had a much better plan. Using the magical energy they had harvested, the powered the Citadel towards the sky, taking the surrounding chunk of land with it. The spellcasters were split in half, and as their generals retreated into hiding, the main army on the Citadel was defeated.

And so the Citadel floated above the clouds, and the three factions from below crumbled and went their separate ways. With all sides of the war badly injured, and the fourth faction flouting above the clouds, there was no clear winner of the war.

We can only hope that the fourth faction prospered up there, for with the recent corruption of the Port city of Fidelio, and the resurgence of the evil spellcasters, awakening terrible beasts beneath the ground. We can only hope that another faction can come back down from their city above the clouds, and save us.

Entry 1-4
Entry 5
Entry 6-9
Entry 10-13
Entry 14
Entry 15-17
Entry 18
Entry 19-20

(this is based off the Boundary Keeper enemy idea, this is also my first time writing lore so its bad)

The Shadow That Roams The Unknown
Tales of old tell of an ancient darkness that roams the lands beyond the boundaries we live in.
Last night, I was leaving Nilgarf to go back to the Warrior Stronghold, as our blacksmith started selling equipment there.
While I was hiking up Redwood Pass, I heard a very peculiar sound…very like someone’s breathing. I stopped and glanced at my surroundings… I was sure I was alone. I had my sword with me nonetheless and could vanquish anything that tried to attack me.

I continued walking, and when I arrived at the second last tunnel, I heard the sound again. Nothing. Just as I reached the final tunnel leading to the stronghold, I heard it again. Something had to be following me.

I went towards where the sound was coming from. I was so concentrated on it that I found myself lost, cold, and alone in the mountains under the bleak midnight sky. I couldn’t hear anything but my own breathing and the bitter icy wind. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew. A blizzard was brewing up. Then, I saw it.

It was huge. It was hooded, and cloaked in a dark aura. It held a huge scythe, and it was approaching me. I tried to get away, but my heavy iron armor was as heavy as a golem and the snow felt as sticky the queen of spider’s spit. I gave up and had decided that it was over. Then, when it finally reached me, it stared at me for a few seconds. That was all I could remember.

I woke up in my bed at the stronghold. Had it carried me home? The legends say it was an evil beast, that killed all it saw. But why had I not met this fate? I am still utterly boggled to this day. Is this creature really as bad as they say in the legends?

Maybe books can have also some info players can use, like this that im making up right now

“I was walking in the woods and i saw a house in the trees, I felt like i needed to get there. I noticed there were some mushrooms nearby and i jumped on one. It launched me in the air and i bounced to another one. That final bounce lead me so high into the trees that i reached the house in the trees, thats where i found the treasure”

end log

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It is said that a worn spirit traverses across The Land of Vesteria.

A spirit born to protect his kingdom, A great king of Magic.

Appointed by their king, nature rose to serve him. To protect his beloved land, Vesteria.

But with such power comes a cost which the king could not pay.

Stripped from his magic, the king could no longer control the forces he created.

Grieved over the chaos he has bestowed upon Vesteria, His spirit roams. Hiding his treasure across the land.

In hopes that one day, someone will use it to restore his great Vesteria.