Lore in Black Geyser refer to the origins, story background, and recurring themes behind different categories of the game. The lore of Black Geyser explains the sequence of main events leading up to the game's current setting, and provides context for the featured Locations, Enemies, NPCs, amongst other key aspects. This allows players to fully immerse into the Yerengal universe, and gain a clear understanding of the narrative to progress in Quests. This page will provide the contextual Lore behind a list of the key aspects in the Black Geyser story.
Black Geyser Story & Lore
Since the dawn of time, darkness has struggled to extinguish the light. Rothgor, the devil-god of pain and destruction, has sent forth countless beastly minions to wreck havoc on the mortal world of Yerengal. Beasts that ran on hoofed feet, flew on great leathery wings and swam with spiny, razor sharp fins. Beasts that cast a shadow of fear wherever their presence was felt.
Of all such beasts, no creature drove men to cold sweats faster than the mere mention of the Xurxur beast. A vile, demigod of terrible power. A monstrous abomination of disfigured conjoined twins, half-amphibian, half-human. Rothgor’s malice made flesh. As long as the Xurxur lived, men would know nightmares and fear the dark.
For hundreds of years, the horrific Xurxur terrorized Yerengal, until one day a group of mighty adventurers, bound together in friendship and courage, exiled the beast to the bottom of the Zarndur sea. Shrouded in a pit of darkness for all eternity, the Xurxur beast would interfere with mortal lives no more.
With the beast vanquished, peace and prosperity came to Yerengal once more. A peace that flourished beyond imagination in one Kingdom above all others—the kingdom of Isilmerald. The land ruled by pure mortal lineage, thrived in a new dawn, blessed by the two supreme gods; Alnarius, the king-god of love and harmony and Tilindia, the Green Mother, goddess of nature.
As the races of the world focused their efforts on supporting each other and finding harmony with nature, fear all but vanished. And with the waning darkness fleeing mens’ heart, so to did the devil-god’s followers diminish. Though his heart overflowed with hate more so than ever before, Rothgor became sickly and weak.
Confined to his throne of bones, in a most humbling state, an unexpected visitor appeared before the devil-god. A seemingly human female of little stature and consequence. Dressed in black, with pale skin and piercing grey eyes the woman stood before Rothgor suffering from the same ailment that afflicted the devil god—her influence and power had dwindled in the world. For in the Yerengal’s harmonious state, very few mortal followers worshiped Zornilsa, goddess of greed. But unlike the devil-god who lived eternal, Zornilsa would fade from existence if man kept to his current course.
Although Zornilsa appeared physically young and beautiful the devil-god could see her lifeforce weakening before him. Defiant in spite of her predictament, Zornilsa spoke with bold, passionate words. Words which revealed a cold malevolent spirit that matched Rothgor’s own. The devil-god saw vast potential in the faltering slender goddess and greeted her with open frail arms.
Together in their union, Rothgor and Zornilsa, assembled a horrible creation they referred to as the Black Geyser. A staggering achievement of the dark arts, the Black Geyser personified the darkest, coldest aspects of their natures sat poised to undo the world of men. The devil-god and goddess of greed, unleashed the Black Geyser upon Yerengal, determined to rekindle the darkness in mankind’s heart.
But unlike fear, which had already been openly opposed and conquered, the Black Geyser would work far more subtly and to far more catastrophic ends. The geyser would lurk in the shadows of men and corrupt his most basic nature, poisoning his mind and his very soul with greed and envy.
A decade later, Isilmerald teeters on the brink of a precipice. Chaos and mistrust have infected the entire land. From highborn to lowborn, people have become obsessed with material things. Man has unhinged from nature. The great blessed kingdom of prosperity has splintered, breaking into distinct northern and southern factions. Both of which at this very moment, prepare for war. A war which ironically, owes its origination to a debt and argument over a mere three gold coins. A testament in itself to the power of the Black Geyser.
History of the Races
The Breaking of the First Tribe
When man was young in the world, he spread across Yerengal far and wide. No matter how great the distance between the groups of humans, they all considered themselves of one tribe. They moved across the land as a single race, united in brotherhood and harmony in honor of their creators. For many generations this was so and for many generations Yerengal flourished.
But as with the seasons, all things change with time. Not long after the lesser gods arrived, the beings of the void reached out to influence man. Where man once only carried only good, righteous intent in his heart, darkness appeared… and grew like a malignant tumor.
Zornilsa, goddess of greed appeared before men and filled their hearts so full of darkness they nearly went mad. She heaved upon them greed and selfishness like they had never known before. But the harmony of the tribe was too great and the few men she corrupted were redeemed and brought back into the fold, or cast away and banished for ever.
The goddess of greed and her dark companions quickly realized they could not so easily undo the King-god’s effort. Instead a different approach was needed, where the goddess of greed had lashed out with potent venom, a more slow acting poison was called for. One that would seep deep into the very fibers of man’s being over not a single lifetime, but many.
So Zornilsa set out and one by one, whispered to all but half the hard working farmers of Yerengal. “What brotherhood is there among your kind? You have but three pigs when your neighbor has six. Why not has he shared his abundance with his kin?” Such simple words, powerful words. Words that planted the wicked thought of doubt, deceit, greed and envy. In a short time the farmers did not pray to Zornilsa for answers, but instead began to create their own. “Perhaps I should just take enough pigs from my neighbor so we have equal number of beasts. After all, a man with such plenty, should hardly notice such a meager reduction."
With the seeds of malcontent planted, Zornilsa whispered to the harvesters of the tribe. "Look there at your neighbors field. The water flows in abundance and the soil is rich and fertile. His fruit trees thrive with such little effort of his doing, while you toil and sweat to produce a mere fraction of his harvest each season. Is his family so deserving where yours is not? He knows your tenth child is on the way, yet he does not labor in your field or share in his plenty.”
Zornilsa’s sinful plot had masterfully been put in motion. Seeds of darkness sprouted in mans’ heart. In the days that followed, man began to question the motives of his brother and his own place in the tribe. For the first time since their creation, men looked to themselves before the welfare of each other or the welfare of Yerengal itself. Some even formed rival tribes and fought with one another over nearby resources. The harmony of the great human tribe shattered. More and more humans split away from one and other, forming many, many tribes. Some humans even forwent tribes all together and took to living solitary lives far from any other beings.
The Green Mother wept for her children as they split apart and wept for Yerengal’s lost dream that man would be the stewards of Yerengal and eventually all planets throughout the stars. She tried to convince the King-god to reunite the many, but Alnarius would not interfere. The god who put spirit into man, decreed that if man were to have any merit in his existence, he must have the free will to choose his own path. Man must know and see the evil of the void, to understand why he rises above it.
Alnarius consoled the Green Mother and whispered to her to cast away her heavy heart. The King-god told his wife that no matter how fractured the tribe of humanity might become, he had faith in them. And that some day, they would cast aside all the dark influences of the void and remember the great harmony and brotherhood they once shared. And on that day they would take their rightful place among the stars.
But to Zornilsa’s great delight, man fell further under the dark influences she had sown with each passing year. The limits to which some men went in the name of selfish acts proved they were indeed beings born of the dark void. And Zornilsa knew in time, with continued influence and subtle suggestion, their entire legacy would be dark and wicked.
The Dwarves of Yerengal
When Rothgor the devil-god learned of the Green Mother’s special blessing of the eleven tribes of man, he flew into a rage. Like Zornilsa, the devil-god had worked diligently to influence man with recently introduced emotions of fear and hate. The new tribes of elves were a harmonizing force on Yerengal and threatened to undo all of the dark god’s efforts. An interference the dark god would not sit quietly and allow to happen.
Rothgor devised a heinous plan to turn the Green Mother’s own blessing against Yerengal. The devil-god summoned forth succubus demons from his realm of darkness and sent them to visit the eleven tribes. Once there, the female demons took the guise of benevolent, elderly midwives. The demonic imposters gained the trust of all the pregnant women of the tribes. On the night of no moon, each succubus demon crept out under the cover of darkness in the form of intangible shadow. They fell upon the sleeping elven mothers to be and in silence and stealth performed a dark, unnatural ritual. The demon womens’ shadows grew large in their abdomens as they stole the very essence of their unborn victims while they slept and became pregnant with something unknown. Once the ritual was complete, the succubus flew back to Rothgor’s domain with haste and showed their bulging bellies.
But in their haste Rothgor’s minions did not realize the unborn children were already apart of Yerengal and that the Green Mother sees more clearly in the world of dreams than any other. Immediately realizing what happened, Tilindia spoke to each and every elven mother in her dreams. She warned the women that darkness had struck out against them and only by drinking from the first water of Yerengal, could their children’s lives be spared.
The first water of Yerengal was an underground pool of water, said to have been the first waters to appear on Yerengal. Immediately, the cursed pregnant women set off in a caravan from eleven corners of the world. For sake of speed, the mothers traveled with a small entourage of guard and in a few days travel came to the mountain which held the first water. The mothers grew weak and sick in their travels as their unnatural children grew closer to entering the world.
The mountain was home to a tribe of humans known for the selfish, self centered ways and obsession over material things, in particular gold and gemstones. When the elven caravan sought passage, the human tribe surrounded them. Greatly outnumbering the elves, the humans demanded payment in order to pass under the mountain. The elves offered what little valuables they had, but the humans did not accept. Only after spotting one of the elves finely crafted blades, the likes of which were not seen in human lands, the men of the mountain offered to take their blades in trade for passage.
The desperate elves reluctantly accepted and entered the mountainous underground unarmed.
When the elves reached the underground water way, the women drank of the mythical water and the elvish priests blessed them according to the Green Mother’s direction. The women felt the dark unnatural nature of their carrying wash away and their health return to them.
At the same time, in Rothgor’s domain the succubus demons fell to the floor in agony. Immediately the demon creatures gave birth to jagged, heavy stones. Rothgor was besides himself with fury. He summoned forth his guard of fire demons and sent them to the first water of Yerengal. The unarmed elves could do nothing. The demons struck them down one by one and a massacre began to take shape.
By chance or fate, one of the elven guards rushed the pregnant mothers across a narrow gap of the first water and into a large cavern. The guard used all his strength to dislodge a large boulder at the entrance to the cave. The boulder and a hundred others came crashing down killing the guard and sealing the mothers within the chamber.
After the fire demons killed the elven guards, they rushed towards the chamber containing the female elves, but found no matter how hard they tried, they could not pass over the first water. Content that the women would die alone, sealed off in the cavern, the demons returned to Rothgor’s realm.
The female elves had no choice but to endure. Surviving on wild cavern fungus, small creatures and small amounts of runoff from the first water, the eleven women survived long enough to give birth. The women were both overjoyed and horrified as the children were born healthy, but their bodies were unnaturally squat, board and quite hairy.
The elven mothers honored their children, feeding them before themselves. Over time, the mothers began to die of starvation. Some say the men of the mountain heard the cries of the babies. Others say they heard the song of the last elven mother, but however the men of the mountain came to find the children, the fact of the matter is that they did.
The site of the mother’s sacrifice and the helpless newborns rekindled something deep in the hearts of the mountain men. They were not their children and they were unlike them in almost every respect. But Alnarius had brought them together and through love and compassion, the mountain men raised the dwarves as they would become known as their own.
The dwarves thrived as they grew, well suited to both the mountainous terrain and the men’s self centered way of life and value of material goods. Something left over from Rothgor’s attempted curse, left the dwarves full of vanity and materialistic virtues.
While the tribe of mountain men eventually died off, their adopted children continued to flourish. They dug deeper into the mountains and spread throughout Yerengal becoming master craftsmen, builders and smiths of coin.
Protectors of Nature
After the great tribe of the many split, man grew more concerned with himself than the world in which he was charged to protect. Showing less and less respect for each other took its toll on the Green Mother, but seeing the gifts of nature shamelessly exploited was nearly more than the goddess could bear. She watched as man cut trees for houses that were burned to the ground just a short time later in conflict. She watched as men slaughtered animals not for meat to survive, but for small swatches of fur and trophy ornaments. She even watched as man poisoned the very rivers givers of life on Yerengal, the rivers and lakes, tainted with oil and sulphur from the machines of progress and war.
The Green Mother had seen enough. Though it broke her heart Tilindia went before Alnarius and demanded he undo the beings that they had created. She wept in great sorrow admitting their children had been a mistake. But Alnarius held no such contempt for man. He comforted his wife telling her than man was still a child finding his way in the world and like a child he would make mistakes along the way. But in the end, he would grow to be strong and smart and good. And promised his loving goddess she would be proud of what man would become.
Comforted by Alnarius’s words, Tilindia agreed to let man find his own way, no matter how lost he might become along his journey. But she still wept, not for man but for Yerengal itself and the simple creatures that lived among her loving lands. Uneased by the Green Mother’s discontent, Alnarius struck a bargain with his wife. He told her to seek out the tribes least affected by the dark influence of the void. Though there were not many that escaped its influence completely, Alnarius told his wife to find them and gift to them a bond to Yerengal, unlike all other tribes.
The King-god decreed let them grow to know life as Yerengal knows life… let them see through the eyes of the hawks that soar in the sky and feel as the red grasses of the plains bend towards the warmth of the setting sun. Let them hear the songs of night wolves on the winter’s wind and taste the pollen that blows on the first day of spring. And most of all let them know the simple love that the doe has for her fawn and the beauty of all life, whether it’s the dew fly’s glorious hour or the winged serpents seven generations of men.
Tilindia’s eyes grew wide at the thought of the task and the many who she would favor. After watching all the tribes of men the Green Mother chose a selection of tribes across the very different geographies of Yerengal. All in all, Tilindia chose eleven tribes to receive her special blessing. The first of this new tribe were forest people near Deron-Guld—one of the very first human settlements on Yerengal. The Green Mother did as Alnarius said and the men of Deron-Guld forest accepted their new found connection to the natural world with humility and graciousness.
Over the years the new tribes grew so distant in their ways compared to the ways of men, they changed physically. They grew to be a slender, almost frail looking people, who moved with stealth and grace like the fickle forest creatures of Yerengal itself. No longer resembling man, the Green Mother no longer referred to these favored children as men but as the eleven and eventually, simply as the elves.
As Alnarius had decreed with man, the elven tribes would retain their own free will. Of this, even with the Green Mother’s blessing, some of the elven tribes could not escape the influence of the void or their brothers—men—over the years. To Tilindia’s dismay some of the elves took their task and love of Yerengal to the extreme, becoming aggressive and even xenophobic against the other races. Although the Green Mother did not approve, she acquiesced to the King-god’s wishes and allowed the elves to find their own way in the world by the means of their own choosing.
Feldegug, the White Elves
As the mortal races spread out throughout Yerengal, virtually none moved to the inhospitable, icy realm of the far north. This both saddened and angered Dargalmir, the demigod who ruled over the white land. In a state of ill will Dargalmir captured an entire village of elves in the Northern Realm. The demigod locked the elves in great castle of ice, within a massive glacier on the frozen sea.
A magical place, endowed with Dargalmir’s very own essence. Set with a single spring of liquid frost and the few arctic animals of the deep sea their only form of sustenance, the demigod declared that if no mortal race was fit to settle the far north, he would forge one himself.
For a hundred years the elves survived in their prison drinking from the magical water and absorbing the enchantments of the icy halls that surrounded them, until at last Dargalmir set his captives free.
When the elves emerged from their icy prison, they found themselves forever changed. No longer were they recognizable as any elf of Yerengal, but instead stood as pale beings with opaque colorful eyes. They moved quickly over all the far north’s treacherous terrains, very much like Ice Trolls, but with far greater grace. The elves had become one with the realm of ice and Dargalmir was pleased with his creation.
The demigod released his new race of Feldegug from their icy confines, but they were far from truly free. Dargalmir treated the Feldegug as his own personal possessions. He divided their number into six tribes and commanded them to settle specific areas of the far north, showing no concern for their say in the matter. Although the Feldegug would be free to live as they wished, they would always be in service to the ruler of the far north.
Given their orders, the Feldegug gathered around their captor and creator and jointly refused Dargalmir’s wishes. The demigod stood shocked and confused. For the half god of the far north had forgotten that the King-god Alnarius, stood everpresent watching over Yerengal and more importantly, that the creation of mortal beings was the domain of he and his wife, the Green Mother.
While the Feldegug were trapped in their icy prison, Alnarius gifted to them intelligence, wisdom, willpower and a great sense of self worth. All that they would need to survive their ordeal with a chance at retaining goodness and righteousness in their hearts.
Dargalmir flew into a rage at the sight of the insubordination. The ground shook and freezing winds whipped, but the Feldegug stood firm. The demigod drew forth his blade of frost and prepared to slay the creatures where they stood. But as the demigod looked into their eyes, he saw his own self reflected in them. A deep emptiness and loneliness stared back at the demigod. In a moment of clarity the demigod realized that killing the Feldegug would condemn him to such a state for all time. Dargalmir lowered his sword and dismissed the white elves. They had won their freedom, total and complete.
And in his compassion to let the Feldegug go free, Dargalmir was reminded of the King-god’s infinite wisdom. The Feldegug spoke among themselves and indeed broke into six clans as the demigod had decreed, but while four would leave the far north two would stay behind. They would not be servants to the god of the far north, but they would indeed take upon it as their home and with no ill will for their imprisonment, they would honor their creator as all children honor their parents. The Feldegug proved to Dargalmir they were not just endowed with his nature, but the very best of it. The demigod welcomed the two tribes with firm handshakes and wished the others safe travels.
No record was kept of the six clans of Feldegug. Today the race of white elves are a rare sight. Although they can be been spotted infrequently, particularly in the Northern Realm, very few sightings have been recorded throughout Isilmerald.
There is a general distrust of the secretive race of white elves from the north. As most fear the harsh conditions of the far north and the frightening beasts capable of surviving those lands, the same fear is associated with the Feldegug themselves. Such apprehensions are only further complicated by thoughts of Dargalmir leading the Jotnar on a campaign against the south.
The few Feldegug that appear throughout Isilmerald and it’s surrounding lands are just as likely to be seen serving drinks in a tavern as they are serving as advisor for wealthy noble family. Another fact that perpetuates the general distrust of the race.
Only a handful of Feldegug have garnished public attention over the years. Contrary to common perception, these few have shown themselves to be intelligent, forth coming, honorable people of high quality. Yet fearful misconceptions still exist. The high advisor, Ambrosius Leanus for the lord of Riznagar and the adventurer Bjalla Adelis are two commonly known Feldegug.
Rillow, the Seekers
Far to the east of Isilmerald lies a land of intense contradictions. The Eastern Empires, as they would become known, are harsh and hostile lands, yet filled with flourishing life. A millennia ago these deserts contained little but howling wind and scorching sun. Out of that wasteland sprung the Djinni, powerful elementals of fire and air. Some of these beings rivaled the power of the gods, and from their fingertips sprung life. What once was desolation became oases, and the landscape was forever changed at the Djinni’s whims.
One such Djinn, the most powerful of them all, decided he was not content with the birds and beasts of his lands. Elenuator gathered a clump of wet sand from the shore of a river, and willed purpose into it. What emerged from that sand were the first Rillows, an elephantine race of huge stature. It’s said that the first of them, shaking off the grit, looked to Elenuator and asked its purpose. The Djinn replied, “To seek.”
Whether this is true or not, it serves to explain the Rillow race’s penchant for exploration. Through the guidance of Elenuator, it took little time for the Rillow to master their environment and begin to wander. It didn’t take long for their fledgling race to find the more verdant lands to the west of Yerengal, including the Eastern Empire’s immediate western neighbors, Zida-Suda. Rillow exploration led to a conflict between these two lands for many years; not until the establishment of the T’ark alta-Azim (the Great Spice Road) through southern Zida-Suda were the two neighbors able to put aside their conflict in favor of increased trade with nations further to the west. This neutrality is limited and tenuous at best; should the flow of money for either nation dry up again, open war would likely resume.
Travel to the Eastern Empires is heavily restricted, limited to trading caravans and occasional diplomats. Those who have returned from such excursions tell wild stories of what they saw, ranging from the flat wasteland that is so quiet it drives men mad, to a massive capital city that seems to have grown directly from the ground rather than built, to calm and pleasant oases (contrasted in tone by one story involving an actual lake of blood in the wastes). Because such stories seem for the most part to be wild and exaggerated tales, very little is known of the Eastern Empires by the rest of Isilmerald. With this in mind, the Rillow have cultivated an aura of mystique about their origins and intentions.
What is true about the Rillow is that their caravans provide a wide range of goods unavailable elsewhere on the continent. Spices, exotic pets, and all manner of strange and novel alchemical concoctions grace their market stalls wherever the Rillow have settled. In fact, the race’s alchemists are famed for their prowess, and all Rillow have some natural talent for the crafts of Brewing and Drying (perhaps a gift from their elemental emperor). Though naturally nomadic, Rillow traders have established two semi-permanent settlements within Isilmerald: one loose community of caravaneers, tradesmen, and mystics within the trade district of Isilbright, and an independent “pleasure palace” called the Garden of Delights. The latter is a hub on the eastern edge of Isilmerald where the T’ark alta-Azim officially begins. Originally an unassuming caravanserai, over the last half-century it has grown into a wondrous place to visit, and boasts a marketplace unmatched over most of the rest of the continent- both for physical goods, and, the rumors say, for secrets.
Rumors aside, the Rillow people do seem to have a hedonistic streak. They seek not only new lands but new experiences. For some, this may mean pleasure from new foods, music, and people. For others, it can mean continuing to explore and travel. In the latter case, this often leads to adventure. Standing some seven feet tall and heavily built, their warriors are physically imposing to a degree that allows them to find easy work as mercenaries (as well as possibly true stories about drug-fueled berserk rages on the battlefield). Their more magic-oriented compatriots tend to become Spellweavers. Elenuator forbids his children from worshipping gods other than himself (he is, in fact, a demigod of such power that he may truly rival the pantheon of Yerengal) so the Rillow avoid religious professions, other than those Shamans who commune directly with their Djinn emperor. Regardless of profession or social standing, Rillow culture encourages displays of opulence, so their men and women alike ornament themselves with all manner of jewelry and fine clothes.
In recent years, as tension has grown in Isilmerald, the population of Rillow in the kingdom has noticeably increased. Whether this is accidental or for some hidden purpose is impossible for anyone but the Rillow themselves to say.
Giants of the Far North
Jotnar, the Giants of the Far North is a non-playable race. The far north of Yerengal is a frozen land of ice and snow where only the strongest of creatures survive. Since before the mortal races arrived, the Jotnar have inhabited the land, thriving were few others dare tread.
The Jotnar are a race of giants. Direct descendants of the far north’s demigod ruler, Dargalmir. The Jotnar are larger and more muscular than their younger Frost Giant cousins. They boast high intelligence, high craft work abilities and greater magical skill than all other giants of Yerengal. Their appearance can vary, but all Jotnar have bright blue eyes with white pupils and grey-blue skin.
Unlike the mortal races, the Jotnar are very few in number. Every ten years, the Jotnar gather for a grand meeting and it is said their number is less than fifty. The Jotnar’s metabolism moves as slowly as the frozen land they hail from. With each passing year their metabolism slows down more and more. Each Jotnar’s final age is unique to itself, some reaching adulthood, some reaching old age, but at some point all Jotnars’ metabolic rate becomes so slow, they stop aging completely. Thus, the Jotnar are nigh-immortal beings. It is also said that Jotnar are not born from union of father and mother, but are broken free from the ice of the north itself.
Most Jotnar are solitary creatures, living in the farthest frozen lands of Yerengal. While they indeed exist, their interactions with the mortal races are so rare, they have been written off to the pages of myth and legend. For those few who have encountered a Jotnar, it is said that their wrath and favor are unsurpassed and randomly coming upon one of the legendary creatures it’s impossible to know which to expect.