Icenfar

Icenfar
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Parent Location	Sinfar's Outer Isles
Owner
Ruler
Organizations Present	creatures
Builder	-
Businesses	-
AssociatedLocations
Setting Type	RP, PVE, PVP, Faction, Events
Location Type	Exterior, Interior, Wilderness, Civilization, Underground

Icenfar is an island trapped in a never-ending winter, preventing rest in most outdoor areas. Its people are hardy and resilient, and the island is filled with many dangers and adventures to be had. One of Sinfar's most balanced PvE areas, Icenfar sports its own leveling questline starting with the Welcome Wagon off the dock at level 4, and creatures to slay until level 40 ending at the Cathedral. Beyond this, it also has 6 world bosses scattered throughout the isle that provide keys to the most challenging dungeons the server has to offer.

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History

The Official History of Icenfar (angelfalling), Sep 22, 2011:

Centuries ago the island of Sinfar used to be larger than what it now is today, legends do not tell us why it came to be so much smaller as it is in this age, but we know for certain that there used to be far more than just three cities to the land. We know this for certain because one of those cities still exists in records today. It was called Icenfar…

Its thought that centuries past a colony was established to provide a mining presence beneath a mountain that was rich with precious metals. Those first settlers were hardy folk that survived and made a fairly prosperous living on trade with what they thought of as the ‘Southlands’. Over time they came to regard the southern peoples of Sinfar as weak and in decline whilst they themselves grew harsher with the lands around them.

Despite growing differences between the North and South trading relations remained lucrative for all concerned until the great storm came. The records do not indicate just what nature of the storm was. We do know the upheaval of the land was great enough to cast the Northern lands away from the mainland and pushed them further North into the sea.

At first things went well and trade was resumed via shipping, but the shift in the continents had left Icenfar island far away from the warm ocean currents, over the next few decades the land began to freeze.

The change was slow enough that people adapted to the new setting well enough. Even though their lives became harsher the humans adapted to the new conditions, their bodies becoming attuned to the cold and their lifestyle altered to survive the harsh conditions.

Those of the Southlands respected those who lived to the North on the island and valued their contribution to the growth of the mainland and for the next hundred years the lands prospered.

But over that time nature was not idle and other forces had been at work with nature and conspired to act in the depths of one winters night. A storm the like of which had never been seen before raged across the whole island. People were driven indoors and found themselves barricading doors and windows shut to try and stay the howling of the wind outside.

For four days the storm had raged over the island and no living person had stepped a foot outside the confines of their shelter. But as quickly as the storm had come it simply dissipated to leave the air feeling clear and fresh as people had begun to dig themselves out from their homes.

Snow covered the ground in every direction, it had blown twelve feet deep in places where drifts had gathered and six feet in those it hadn’t. But the people were used to such hardships and had thought nothing of digging their way through to each others homes. And from those homes they had dug to the major meeting places, the church, the tavern, the town hall.

Finally they reached the port where the snow fell away to the sea that was littered with icebergs and it was there that the Northerners spirits had finally quailed, all around the island was a fog bank that obscured the view past a half mile out to sea.

Of course boats and ships were sent out into the fog, but no sooner has they come to reach the edge of the swirling whiteness than the wood had begun to creak with the biting cold of it. Sailors who had no protection had frozen solid on the spot only to shatter apart into a thousand pieces moments later.

The first official Icenfar king was risen from amongst the people to lead them. Because now they were a nation alone against the very elements themselves. Their collective hopes were slim but with typical stoicism they settled in to try and survive.

As for the outside world that tried to reach them they encountered the same problems as those trapped within the swirling ice fog. Scrying and all manner of magical attempts in reaching the island failed, often with terminal results and the best guess was that some manner of null zone had been created around the island when the storm had hit.

Three centuries past and the island of Icenfar was largely forgotten about, its people lost to legend and rumour. Until one day word began to spread that there was an opening in the fog…

Resurfacing of the Dwarves (angelfalling, Nov 14, 2011):

The streets were always quiet in Icenfar at night, the biting winds that howled throughout the land were partly eased by the towering walls of Icenfar city but it did not stop it enough for the common folk to be out wandering at this hour. But the guards, vigilant as ever were always watching for trouble in this harsh environment.

It was true that things had been better of late, since the city had become accessible to the outside world once again it had taken some of the pressure off of the people. The influx of adventurers had leant warm bodies to throw at the cities various enemies and whilst many of the locals still grumbled about the outsiders presence, there was more than one wife and child that blessed them for the greater chance their husbands and fathers would return home again at the end of their shift.

The king who sat in his hall amidst the half remembered glories of the past brooded deeply as he looked over the feast table. It was a long time since the table had been full with his warriors, there had been little to celebrate and even less to gather over. The news was forever grim, the blight advanced, although much slower these days but nothing seemed to stem the inexorable growth of that accursed disease that beset his lands.

The Keeper was at his desk and pouring over his notes and lists that made up the balance of his job aside from trying to moderate his kings often foul temper. Stores were up, trade with other lands had seen to that, but their funds were low. In the past wealth had never been an issue with a small population but now they had to concern themselves once more with such things.

The smith had started to sell his wares, as had a few of the other more enterprising people in the city, they all paid a tax but the majority of their income right now came from the increase in house sales. The king had thrown a fit over that one when it had been put to him, but in truth it was the only other real resource that they could offer and the rental of those empty houses had kept the city liquid in its new economy.

It was going through this last cycles figures that it had happened…

In one of the empty buildings near the south eastern part of the city, the few sticks of dusty furniture had begun to shake and then a huge explosion had torn through the floor. Dust and debris had been flung across the room, breaking the windows and doors from their hinges and had piled up outside in the street.

Guards had rushed to the scene faster than any of the wandering adventurers and had sealed off the surrounding area. Tensions were high, what new threat was this that plagued the city and guards were all walking with weapons drawn.

But nothing happened at first… several guards had entered the building and their had been shouts, the guard sergeant had been summoned from his station and then soon after the Keeper had also been roused and brought to the non-descript part of the city. It was only after this that activity had begun.

In the hours following, carpenters and builders were summoned, new windows placed over those that had been ruined and then they had been firmly shuttered and locked, but before they had been rumours of a huge hole in the ground had been reported. A new heavy metal bound door was hung across the entrance, strong enough to give even giants pause for thought and a full time guard placed upon it.

No doubt rumours would abound as to what this meant for the city now…

Icenfar Legends: The Creation of the World, the Blight, and the Hammer of Fate (Aurarei, 16 Jul, 2025):

In Icenfar mythology/history, Sinfar was once a smaller place, originally comprising of only 3 cities.  Primordial deities ruled this plane from the Yawning Void, but in a great battle between them, the primordial goddess of greed, conflict, and transformation, Goolwehg, was slain, and her body came crashing down into the plane.  Her death formed a great storm, one that split the land and separated the Northlands from the Southlands by a vast sea, and thus the city became known as Icenfar ("Lands of Ice").  For a hundred years, the Northerners prospered from shipping trade of fish and metals mined from their great mountain to the weaker folk of the Southlands, now known as Sinfar ("Land of Sin").

Not all was peaceful, though.  The giants, descended directly from the primordial of frost, Blainn, grew hostile toward the dwarves, who were formed by Blainn's primordial opposition, the gods of war and order.  The humans above avoided the conflicts of the depths below, keeping to their outposts and trade above, though they would bury their dead that their spirits might join in the fight for order.  It is said as much as the mortals upon Icenfar battled against each other, so too did their primordial counterparts above.  Only once the End of the World came would the fighting cease.

And so it came - one of the gods of war and order, Rymr, tore a great icy world serpent to pieces, its remains showering the island in a snowstorm that lasted 4 days.  As the storm ceased, the people found the serpent's blood mist surrounding the land, cutting them off from the rest of the world.  The people prayed to the primordial Vindler, he who protected them from the harsh frozen winds, and looked to him for protection against this new permafrost.

But while the body fell as snow and the blood fell as fog, its heart fell to the earth, and from the old serpent's spite, it became the evil corruption known as The Blight.

The fighting might have ceased, but The Blight's corruptive influence invaded the minds of those it touched, heightening their aggression toward any and all.  Even the dead found no peace, only all consumed by hatred and bloodlust.  The dwarves, allied with the humans of the surface, went to fight The Blight, wielding the Hammer of Fate, but only managing to trap it within the Underdark on the easternmost part of the isle.  To aid in keeping it sealed, the humans built a massive temple to Rymr, the god who slew the great serpent, above The Blight's resting place.  But the Dwarf King who had triumphed over the Blight, King Khadrin, fell into the pits of Khazat Issitholden that night, the Hammer of Fate lost with him.

Without the Hammer to renew the binds on the Blight, the monstrosity's influence began to spread.  Hostility and doubt invaded the minds of the monks within Rymr's temple, encouraging them in the ways of evil summoning and sacrifice of their brethren, that The Blight might grow stronger with its armies of their dead.  The monks turned on one another, summoning demons to combat each other.  The demons overpowered their summoners, forcing them out of the temple and into the cold to face the Blight and undeath.

The Frost Giants below remained unaffected, as they were the descendants of Blainn, just as the World Serpent had been.  The dwarves were resistant, having been made of Blainn's wounds from the gods of war, but they were still susceptible to its mind-corrupting influence.  Until the Hammer of Fate can be restored, The Blight will continue to spread to the populace at its rapid pace, until only the Frost Giants remain.

Icenfar Legends: The Black Witch, Morrigan (Aurarei, Jul 16, 2025):

Once upon some time ago, Morrigan wandered the isles of Sinfar and beyond as all adventurers do, thrill-seeking in both combative and carnal challenges alike.  Local villagers would see her flying through town on her way to the next great enemy that plagued the land, all for the delight in trying out a new spell or technique upon it.  While she held a most eccentric appearance, that of long dark hair that flowed about her shoulders and an hour glass figure so exaggerated to otherworldly dimensions the woman was never seen touching the ground, they appreciated the benefits of her relentless pursuit of power and perfection.  Yet all found direct encounters with her a conflict of allure and terror: while her appearance was impossibly seductive with curves that rivaled the size of the heavens and smells of honeysuckle and spices, her mysterious grey eyes held a soul of intemperance and violent whimsy.  One was drawn to her, and yet dread for one's life was constantly in her shadow.

T'was not long that news of her exploits from elsewhere also reached Icenfar.  She became known as Morrigan, The Black Witch, an impossible foe and terrifying sorceress to ever grace any battlefield, whether against local terror or within an adventurer's arena.  Her passion had born fruit, and she soon ran out of worthy challenges to pursue.

As with all indulgences, Sinfar's offerings grew dull to the great sorceress.  Without a challenge, the world lost its luster.  But her passion for the pursuit of perfection never waned, and thus she concocted a clever plan.  She returned to Icenfar once more to pay a visit to her favorite quarries.  It is still heavily debated whether she was there for a last sparring match or night of unspeakable passion.  At each visit, she lost a single item in her arsenal to each of them: first her pipe to the demon Lord of Terror; second her hat to The Blight; third her staff to the great Frost Giant King; and finally, her tome to the draconic Ender of Fate.  Thusly relieved of her items, she paid one last visit to her beloved beastmen below Icenfar City.  Some claim she is responsible for their vast growth in numbers.  Others vouch she was as likely to slay them or rut with them as she was with anyone.  All they know is that after that night, she was never seen in Icenfar again.

But word of her came through other adventurers from beyond the fog. A terrible witch made her home on Dungeon Island of the Dread Isles.  Those adventurers that shared in her passion for the challenge of combat that were strong enough to vanquish the foes of old in Icenfar and return her items to her would be granted their greatest challenge yet: The Black Witch.

Icenfar Legends: The Forge Crystal (Aurarei, Jul 16, 2025):

It was called the Forge Crystal - an elemental artifact created when Sinfar first suffered the crash of the primordial being of greed, conflict, and transformation into the plane that divided the land into isles. This crystal absorbed the energies from the primordial, and with it, the smiths of old were able to transform their crafted works into powerful treasures.

The treasures forged using this Crystal became the objects of greed across all the lands. To limit their widespread accumulation, the crafters, known as The Ancient Ones, stored these artifacts in the lairs of powerful guardians.  They then plucked these lairs from their natural environment and co-located them on Dungeon Island.  The key to these lairs would be the Forge Crystal itself.

The Ancient Ones shattered the Forge Crystal into 6 fragments, and brought the fragments to the most dangerous beings of the isles at the time (that weren't already locked inside the lairs with the treasures). Those beings were all centrally located on one of the harshest islands of the era - Icenfar. These fragments bonded with the souls of their guardians, granting them immortality, in a sense. The fragments bestowed upon the guardians suitable amounts of soul energy, such that if they were slain, they would have an ample sum to pay to return to the living world anew. And so long as they did so, the crystal fragment would reform again in their possession. However, the crystal, having absorbed the primordial powers of conflict and transformation, inflicted additional side effects upon the guardians it bonded with; warping their soul's interaction with fate. Thus, mirrored incarnations of the guardians can be found in the homelands of the Ancient Ones as terrors out of place.

But the Ancient Ones locks were too universal; while the Forge Crystal was one of the only artifacts of its era, others would later rise as well, and hold enough power to open the way for these old lairs.  Now, in the modern era, others seek to find new ways the Forge Crystal fragments may still be put to good use.  Others, like the Master Smith of Khazat Issitholden, facing desperate times in the old dwarf city far beneath the surface world…

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