Your Life in Valdara: Player Introduction
The year is 4305. You live in Valdara, a unified kingdom where steam-driven looms hum in Tsarigrad's textile mills and Karlingrad's workshops produce early firearms. The aristocracy controls the land, the emerging middle class runs the workshops, and the working poor labor in brutal conditions. This is the world you long to escape.
Who Are You in the Waking World?
Your character is human—born and raised somewhere in Valdara. You live a life of quiet desperation, escaping into stories and songs of myth and magic, horror and romance, adventure and secret gardens. One night, instead of simple dreams, you come before the Gates of Horn and Ivory and pass into Grimmloch—only to discover that those sagas are alive and found here, bathed in shadow, mist and moonlight.
Consider where you come from and what drives you to seek escape in dreams:
🏛️ From the Cities
Tsarigrad — The eastern capital, where marble basilicas tower over crowded markets and steam-powered mills churn out textiles. You might be a merchant's clerk drafting endless contracts that all blur together, a dockworker dragging cargo whose worth could feed a village, or a library scribe dusting ancient astronomical texts no one reads while factory smoke blackens the windows.
Karlingrad — The western capital, where armored knights keep ancient traditions though there hasn't been a war in generations. You might be a weaponsmith's apprentice grinding ceremonial blades that will never see battle, a palace guard polishing armor for parades while your joints grind with every movement, or a baker's daughter kneading dough at dawn while songs die in your throat.
Ikosium — The holy city and trade hub, where Sahilian spice merchants haggle with Wendish amber traders beneath the shadows of ancient shrines. You might be a pilgrim begging at shrine steps with unanswered prayers, a translator shouting prices in three languages for merchants who ignore you, or a street performer whose tales are drowned by market noise.
🌾 From the Villages
Bretonia — Where misty moors meet stone circles and villages cluster around ancient standing stones. You might be a shepherd reciting old ballads to sheep in empty hollows, a weaver whose intricate patterns gather dust unsold in market stalls, or a farmer's child who knows every standing stone marks distances beyond reach.
Wendland — Where oak groves still host veche councils and grandmothers whisper of forest spirits. You might be a woodcarver whose ancestral patterns now decorate tavern signs for drunkards, a reeve marking harvest failures, each season indistinguishable from the last, or a young person fleeing to the city because the old ways no longer feed you.
Gallia and Neustria — Where Francii farmers tend wheat fields and small workshops produce everything from barrels to horseshoes. You might be a miller's son bound to the tools your family has always used, a tavern keeper's daughter serving travelers whose stories seem to belong to another world, or a village singer whose melodies fade before they're finished.
🏜️ From the Sands
Aegypti — Where ancient monuments dwarf modern settlements and scribes still copy hieroglyphic texts in temple libraries. You might be a tomb guardian watching empty passages that looters already emptied generations ago, a scribe tracing sacred formulas you no longer believe in while meaning drains from every symbol, or a canal worker digging mud from irrigation ditches older than memory.
Arya — Where caravanserais dot trade routes and garden courtyards offer respite from the sun. You might be a merchant's porter moving treasures that pass through your hands but never your life along roads your feet have memorized, a bazaar storyteller whose tales of djinn and heroes earn only scattered coins from distracted crowds, or an astronomer charting stars whose meaning is long forgotten while the roof crumbles.
Numidia and Sahil — Where Mazigh horsemen navigate rocky highlands and ancient terraced fields produce hardy crops. You might be a salt trader heir to routes that never change, until your back stoops with each passing season, a qanat engineer maintaining irrigation systems that crumble faster than you can repair them, or a youth fleeing to Ikosium because staying means starving.
🌊 From the Sea
Thule — Where longships cut through icy fjords and Skanne warriors carve runes into stone. You might be a fisherman continuing a craft that no longer remembers why it began, in the same salt-crusted shed, a village skald reciting verses meant for ears that no longer care, or a blacksmith hammering repairs on tools that break as fast as you fix them.
Achaea — Where island villages cling to volcanic slopes and fishermen know every current and reef. You might be a fisher's daughter gutting the daily catch until the smell never leaves your hands, a failed scholar copying philosophy for monks who dismiss your questions, or a vintner pressing olives with tools your family has always used, knowing your children will inherit the same.
Liburnia — Where coastal towns blend Slavic and maritime traditions and swift ships patrol the Mesogeios. You might be a shipwright patching old vessels with scraps while new ships are built in distant ports, a salt hauler bearing loads that grow heavier with each passing year to the same warehouses, or a harbor clerk filling ledgers no one opens with fish catches and petty taxes.
👑 Your Social Standing
The Aristocracy — You own land, have a title, live in a grand estate or townhouse. Your life is one of privilege but also rigid expectation. Perhaps you're the disappointing younger son, the unmarriageable daughter, or the heir suffocating under duty.
The Middle Class — You're a merchant, engineer, skilled artisan, or professional. You have some education, some comfort, but you're climbing a ladder where each rung feels impossibly distant from the one above. You work hard but wonder if it matters.
The Standing Army — You serve in Valdara's military, which addresses natural disasters, banditry, uprisings, and infrastructure projects. You might be an officer from an aristocratic family seeking glory, a professional soldier who found purpose in service, or a conscript who had no better options. The army gave you discipline, skills, and brotherhood—but also scars, orders you question, and memories you can't shake.
The Working Poor — You labor in factories, serve in aristocratic households, or toil in fields owned by others. Your hands are rough, your days are long, and social mobility is a fantasy. You're exhausted, angry, and hungry for something—anything—better.
⛪ Your Relationship with The Faith
The Faith dominates Valdara—its basilicas in every city, its shrines in every village, its rituals marking births, marriages, and deaths. But your relationship to it varies:
- Devout believer seeking spiritual truth in an increasingly materialist world
- Cultural participant who attends services but questions doctrine
- Quiet skeptic going through motions to avoid social consequences
- Romantic mystic drawn to old folklore beneath The Faith's orthodox surface
- Bitter apostate who sees The Faith as another tool of control
Why This Matters
When you dream into Grimmloch, you carry all of this with you—your class resentments, your regional folklore, your daily frustrations, your secret yearnings. A Tsarigrad scholar approaches the dreamworld differently than a Wendish woodcarver. A factory worker's desperation differs from an aristocrat's ennui.
Your waking life isn't just backstory. It's the cage you're escaping, the lens through which you see Grimmloch's wonders, and the context for who your true form reveals you to be.
The more vividly you imagine your life in Valdara, the more meaningful your transformation in Grimmloch becomes.