Dark Moon, Frost Moon, Starving Moon – the cold months are dawning. Hundreds of candles burn in the shrines to Neve, illuminating the bleak night. And for just a moment, a mere blink of an eye, the goddess of winter and death casts her gaze down upon the world of mortals.
In the glow of fluorescent mushrooms, a group of Tuvrani wanders through the spore forest, which has become slow and sluggish in the cold, and the shaman looks up in amazement as the first snowflakes drift down on her.
The flames of a huge fire flicker and twitch, illuminating the bodies of dozens of Vibalians who joyfully and wildly dance, singing Vidubog’s name against the pitch-black night.
A dragon hunter drapes a thick fur coat around his comrade’s shoulders; behind them, the entrails of a slain monster steam in the snow, its body riddled with arrows and spears.
Icicles hang clinking from the gables of the Griffin Order Academy, the breath of the trainees who are practicing on the grounds rises white into the sky above Greifenbronn.
A lantern casts shimmering shadows across the purple carpets of the library at Atlam, while an inquisitor and her scribe read silently and reverently in ancient texts.
An icy wind sweeps across the battlements of the Atteron fortress, unheard by the maid who has just put the Earl’s firstborn son to bed and is now, with trembling fingers, sprinkling salt over the threshold so that the fairies will not take the child.
Music and the sour smell of wine settle heavily and charming over the visitors of the Midnight Circus, and a cheer goes through the intoxicated crowd as magic leaps from the fingertips of the Nocturnal in the middle of the stage.
A trader from the Crimson Sails Company stands in the hold of a swaying three-masted ship in the port of Cascona, and the smell of the Gumesa in the small, silver pouch rises warm and spicy into her nose.
A Fen’Cenderi gazes at the vast starry sky, which spreads dazzlingly bright above her, her cloak wrapped around her body like wings, and she weeps softly when she cannot recognize any of the constellations.
An axe in Nortrond splits a log with a powerful blow. A Bontreller confectioner arranges gold-flecked chocolates on a tray. A Paldaian priestess places an olive branch on the altar in prayer. Slender, ghostly fingers reach for the pale hand of a king who has lived far too long, and before them, the marble door of a crypt creaks open-
Neve blinks, and her gaze lifts from the world, gliding back into the realms of the gods and into the unknown that we mortals will never comprehend. All that remains for us in these dark days of winter is to illuminate the night and draw closer together, to give each other warmth and security—and to resist the evil spirits.
Dear Mythodea Community
We’re signing off for the Christmas break with a little greeting from Sarkan. What’s happening in the realms of Mitraspera this winter? We’d love to see snapshots of your characters, groups, and factions during the Mythodean winter, whether as text or images!
Until the second week of January, we will only be available sporadically. However, in urgent cases, you can contact us as usual via our regular channels (email, WhatsApp, Discord). Until then, please remember to assign your tickets to a camp in the quarter manager. Room selection for Sturmwacht will take place at the end of January. We wish you a wonderful, festive Christmas season and a happy New Year – and look forward to all the adventures we will experience together in 2026!
Your Realms of Mythodea Event Team
Happy New Year 2026:
