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Back when I was content lead at Spellborn Works, I created multiple ‘mood pieces’ to reflect upon the universe of “The Chronicles of Spellborn”. These texts were written at a conceptual level, to provide artists and fellow designers with an idea of how the game world behaved on its own. This rough text was meant for post-release content. We needed to show that the threat of the Arionites was already present within the Enclave, while wrapping up a loose end that House Rune initiates might remember.

He had little to fear from the Enclave. After all this time, the Enclave still held the notion that the Arionites had been beaten. Their last stand together with Tykaru Reywing had lulled the Enclave into a false sense of security.

So here he was walking the streets of Quarterstone, the very heart of the Enclave, with nary a soul taking notice of him. Though he could have walked here in his own clothing and full Arionite armour, he was wearing the clothes of a commoner. The Enclave might not recognize the colours and symbols now, but the day would come those marks would be burned into their eyes once more.

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Back when I was content lead at Spellborn Works, I created multiple ‘mood pieces’ to reflect upon the universe of “The Chronicles of Spellborn”. These texts were written at a conceptual level, to provide artists and fellow designers with an idea of how the game world behaved on its own. This rough text was meant for post-release content. There was the notion to give the Enclave a more suitable opponent and the Arionites were chosen for that purpose. However, as the Arionites were already all over the game, we needed to introduce a stronger version.

“How many have we wasted so far?” To Eridin the question did sound offensive. By order of Shadow’s Hammer or not, these were still their fellows. That woman didn’t seem to understand that.
“So far, seven have *died*, Sharan. Three immediately after the cauldronization, four after ‘successful’ cauldronization.”
“Good.” The word mark clawed itself into Eridin’s mind. “That means we are well within the limits of the procedure.” She picked up one of the red crystals on the altar in front of here and walked to one of the dead bodies. “It also gives us… opportunities.”
“Opportunities? They’re dead! Finding a suitable weapon to fight the Enclave is one thing, but outright *killing* our own to get… these undead monstrosities… is-…” Sharan flatly held her hand up to signal silence. Eridin obeyed.

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Back when I was content lead at Spellborn Works, I created multiple ‘mood pieces’ to reflect upon the universe of “The Chronicles of Spellborn”. These texts were written at a conceptual level, to provide artists and fellow designers with an idea of how the game world behaved on its own. This text was actually rather close to getting in the game. It was meant as a prologue of sorts to helping recruit Lerrick in the starting zone. The idea was to let the player pick these pages up on his own accord as he progressed. Unfortunately the bankruptcy shot that idea to pieces.

DAY 1

Mum said I needed to go to Parliament. If I ever wanted to see dad again, that was the only route I could take. But I don’t really want to become a member of the Enclave Militia. Mum keeps banging on about becoming a High House member and how that’ll allow me to use any shardship I want. I can’t do anything with that. Dad won’t be there anyway. Then she started saying I needed work, and the only way to do that is to become a High House member. That sounds wrong. Dad wouldn’t have agreed with it.

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Back when I was content lead at Spellborn Works, I created multiple ‘mood pieces’ to reflect upon the universe of “The Chronicles of Spellborn”. These texts were written at a conceptual level, to provide artists and fellow designers with an idea of how the game world behaved on its own. This one was intended to convey the game mechanics of combat into Spellborn reality. Enjoy.

“It seemed to work for you.” Larrah turned towards the Berserker again. “But this guy is still staring at me, standing still, while I am standing still and we’re talking. Something tells me he’ll start attacking us any mom-…” As the Berserker’s axe suddenly cleaved down just a few inches in front of them, Larrah was initially surprised by its speed and secondly by the fact that she had been right. She jumped backwards out of the way and slapped her hand on one of the Crests adorning her armour.

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Back when I was content lead at Spellborn Works, I created multiple ‘mood pieces’ to reflect upon the universe of “The Chronicles of Spellborn”. These texts were written at a conceptual level, to provide artists and fellow designers with an idea of how the game world behaved on its own. It’s a bit raw and rough around the edges though. Enjoy.

The glow was weakening. Ankhcandles weren’t supposed to do that. Richan Druyk did not know a lot about ankhstones and how they worked, but he did know an ankhcandle made of the stuff wasn’t supposed to lose it glow until after 50 years at least. This one he bought three weeks ago at that stupid merchant with his stupid speech impediment in stupid Pit District. Last time he ever went there.

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