It has been a long while since there were any new Royal doughlings brought into the world. The realms have long since forgotten how life came to be, for all the Royals are now fully developed, struggling to find enough Kompona to stay alive and avoid oblivion. Sweetness is divine, yet the Kompona slowly grow smaller in supply with every passing moment, particularly the sweetest and most essential of them all, Kukre. However, the choice between ascension and oblivion is not the only mystery that the royals keep close to themselves. Hidden deep within the abysses of their castles and fortresses, the Royals jealously guard the secrets of their roots, roots that they themselves cannot remember. (Abridge for Twitter)
If a wayward soul were to make their way into these basements and locked dungeons, they would see rust and dust collecting on strange boxes. The wires and levers have decayed with the centuries, but the broken glass covers are empty, carrying with them a strange likeness to what seemed like compartments. These boxes housed something once, long ago. Life.
Some machines housed the signs of countless failed repairs. Five Kompona: Kukre, Kait, Kater, Karine, and Kakao - their scholars knew what made the Royals, so how hard could it be to try and recreate the process with their own ideas and industry? The result? Despite entire tonnes of Kompona being siphoned into their research, there were no new Doughlings in centuries, maybe even millennia.
Every Realm had their own story behind their creation, however, all of their tales pointed to one point: the Ruins. Ancient structures that stood tall above any creations the Royals could build themselves, the Ruins were majestic, and spoke of a time where life was more carefree, and the Royals could bring forth their heirs and join their ancestors in the hereafter.
Even the bravest scholars who ventured their way to the Ruins came back with no answers, only more questions. How did the Royals come to be? What benevolence or malevolence would be kind or cruel enough to breathe life into being, yet provide said life with no answers?
Many returned with renewed belief of the Kelysian fields, where there would be limitless Kompona and eternal rebirth. Others did not return, and it did not take much to realise that they would not be returning at all.
Consuming without care has made this Lord bathe in opulence when the world starves.
One can only exercise their right to consume so much when there is nothing left for consumption.
If you steep tea far too long, it becomes bitter beyond measure. The Earl has always wanted too much, and no cup shall runneth over if it is bottomless.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Fool her once, your days are numbered. Fool her twice, you will know firsthand how rage, when tested, has no bounds.
The higher one’s pedestal, the harder their fall from grace. With insurmountable arrogance, this Count’s endless narcissism may have brought him this far, but it won’t be long before it brings him his fall.
There comes a time where one must make the difficult choice of going the easy route, or the route that is right. However, with this idle Duke at the helm, the decision is never the latter.
Holding jealousy over another’s fortunes becomes resentment. Resentment becomes spite and one can only burn so long in the fires of envy before they turn to ash.
To desire is to be vulnerable. However, this Baron does not consider desire a weakness, but rather a strength, for he is passion incarnate, and there is much to be had in both pleasure and pain.
Tough as rock, but rarer and sweeter than all the world has to offer, Kukre is mined from the mountains. Spring is the best time to mine, as other times make the venture not just difficult, but also deadly.
Many make their living as miners, but as more people try to join the fray, the trade becomes less a livelihood and more a competition where only the fittest survive.
Found in rivers and streams of kater, tiny pockets of kait flow with their sea kelp lodgings, swaying with reckless abandon underkater.
Abundant throughout the year, it is still better to harvest the rivers in warm weather, when the free flowing streams are not rock solid until the following spring.
During the coldest of nights, when all the land braves the toughest of blizzards, the outside is covered by a layer of Karine.
Soft, free, and an integral Kompono for the royals, the winter blizzards are a call to war. May death come on swift wings to those who fail their harvest.
When the torrential rains of monsoon come forth, they put an end to the drought, an occurrence celebrated throughout all the realms.
Rivers and lakes of water run most abundant during the monsoon showers, and are near limitless even well after the storms.
When fall comes, the cold breezes begin to make their way through the landscape, reminding the residents of how fragile warmth is, and how easily it can be taken away from them.
Only in these winds can we find Kakao, which, when ground and drunk, keeps one warm throughout even the coldest of nights. The winds carrying the near weightless seeds are now rarer, thus beginning the skirmishes to hoard the precious Kompono for one's own.
What is the secret to life? For all that the Royals have done in search of creating new life, it is folly that they themselves do not remember from whence they came.
Their courts are rife with intrigue and deceit, yet the ancient ruins are a call to all. It is known, yet it never will be. What life can come to be without the key ingredient?
Where there is death, the giver of life is king. Rarer than sweet kukre itself, the addictive koda is desired in both silken sheets and shaded streets, for some journeys take one to clouds and skies where no one else may ever go.
Koda is chalked up to a gift from the heavens, for what else can describe the sheer invincibility and divinity felt when it is consumed? And for the chance of partaking in such a gift, who wouldn’t start wars that could end existence?