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2025-10-26 10:07:14THE WORLD OF THE WILDER GAMES
The Continent of Egrarion The known world is divided into two main regions: the Walled Cities of the Human Concord and the Savage Wilds of Egrarion, home to the beast kingdoms. Magic runs through the roots of this land, but not all have access to it, or believe it should exist at all. DIVINORA – The Walled City Divinora is the largest and most powerful of the human cities, surrounded by a 300 foot high barrier infused with anti magic runes and iron, meant to keep out every creature deemed a threat to their "purity." Long ago, when humans warred with the beasts and witches nearly overran their borders, the Divinoran High Council struck a deal with the Beast Warlords. Every summer they provide 30 criminals to participate in The Wilder Games, and they remain safe behind their walls. Divinora’s citizens are indoctrinated to believe all non humans are abominations, and witches are executed or exiled. Every summer, the city selects 30 so called criminals most of them witches, wildlings, and the poor, and sends them into the Killground as tribute to the beast lords. It is public televised spectacle, punishment, and dark tradition in one. The Savage Wilds of Egrarion Outside the walls lies a vast, dangerous realm known as The Savage Wilds. The Wilds are divided among powerful beast clans, each ruled by their own King and governed through regional Alpha Warlords. These lands are wild, untamed, and rich in elemental magic. Each beast race has its own traditions, magic, and mating rites, but one truth binds them all: there are no female beast shifters. Whatever curse or divine design created them, only human or witch born females can breed with them and continue their bloodlines. Witches, thus, are sacred, and hunted. THE BEAST KINGDOMS OF EGRARION Each beast clan rules a different biome across Egrarion. The Kingdom of Emberspire – Home of the Lions. Volcanic plains and dry savannahs. Fierce, regal, pride driven warriors. Ruled by King Hadrian Ironpaw. The Frostfang Dominion – Frozen tundras, northern forests. Brutal, primal wolves who honor strength and blood. Ruled by King Fenrick Bloodhowl. The Hollowfang Peaks – Mountain caves and pine valleys. Solitary, war hardened berserkers bears. Ruled by King Torren Brokenbone. The Shaded Glade – Dense jungle territory, cloaked in shadows and death. Panthers rule with silence and cunning. Ruled by King Zarrk Shadowprowl. The Crystalfang Isles – Snow-touched, crystalline islands where white tigers reign. Cold, mystical, reclusive. Ruled by Prince Nythor Frostbite. The Sunken Depths – Swamps and ancient bogs, home to snake shifters. Masters of venom and manipulation. Ruled by King Silas Coilheart. The Bonewood Reach – Forests of giant redwoods. Gorilla clans who value honor, council, and strength. Ruled by Chieftain Garok Stonefist. THE KILLGROUND – Arena of the Wilder Games A massive forest arena enchanted with spells to keep the tributes within and keep the beasts from killing each other. The Killground is the site of the annual Wilder Games, a thirty day event where condemned humans are loosed into the wild to survive, or be hunted. Each of the five chosen Warlords receives a hunting token. If they catch a tribute, they may claim them, body, blood, and soul, or kill them. If a tribute survives all thirty days, they win their freedom and are marked by the Wilds as untouchable. Those who win become legends. Few ever do. MAGIC, BLOODLINES & BREEDING RITES In the Wilds, magic is sacred and bloodlines are power. The beast kings and their Warlords rely on witches and wildborn females to continue their bloodlines. Some females are chosen as sacred mates, bound by blood and spirit. Others are taken as breeding stock, or worse. There are whispers of ancient spells that could create female beast offspring. The kings deny such magic exists, but there are those in the Wilds, and within Divinora, who would kill to find it. WITCHES, WILDLINGS & THE LOST MAGIC Witches born in the Wilds hold old, chaotic magic tied to the land. Many, like Branwen Mosswood, hide their power for fear of being claimed or killed. Some form covens deep in the wildest parts of the continent. Others are forced into hiding, hunted by both the Walled Cities and Beast Lords. But the magic in their veins is changing. Stronger. Wilder. And the land itself is waking.
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The Wilder Games - Savage Surrender 1 #21 The Mountain & The Witch
Branwen POVThe creek is cold, clean, and perfect. I float there, letting the water wash the heat from my skin and the last traces of sleep from my mind. The Wilds hum soft and alive around me. Birds chatter. A breeze stirs the pines.For once, there’s peace.I dunk my head under, come up gasping and laughing, and push my hair back. The morning sun slides through the canopy in silver threads, glittering on the ripples. I almost feel… normal.Then the forest stops breathing.No birds. No wind. No chatter. Just silence thick enough to choke on.I straighten, water sliding down my body. “Hadrian?” I call softly.No answer.The hairs on my arms rise. My magic stirs, whispering a warning. I take a step toward the bank, my eyes sweeping the treeline.That’s when I hear it, a deep, rumbling growl. Not hostile. Not yet. Just a sound that vibrates in my chest, low and heavy, like the ground itself is purring.“Bloody hell,” I mutter, sloshing toward shore. “Can’t even bathe without drama.”I r
The Wilder Games - Savage Surrender 1 #20 Bonds & Blushing Lions
Branwen POVI wake to the smell of smoke and sizzling fat.The moss under me is still warm, and my limbs are deliciously sore in all the right places. Every muscle hums with memory, and my lips curl into a sleepy smile before I even open my eyes. The golden scent of him lingers on my skin, sunlight and salt and something primal that makes my magic purr.But the moss beside me is empty.I sit up slowly, the thin blanket slipping to my waist, and blink into the dim light. The cave is quiet except for the faint crackle of a fire somewhere deeper in. Hadrian’s cloak is gone. So are his boots.For one irrational second, my chest tightens. The bond glows steadily under my skin, though, warm and pulsing, assuring me he’s still close. Just… not here.I stretch, wince, and grin all at once. “Gods,” I mutter to myself. “No wonder I can’t walk straight.”The scent hits me again, rich, savory, and smoky. My stomach growls loud enough to echo. Food. Real food.I throw on my ridiculous leathers, fi
The Wilder Games - Savage Surrender 1 #19 The First Bond
Branwen POV The shadows of the inner cavern swallow us whole, thick and cool like a lover's breath held too long. Hadrian's hand in mine is an anchor, his rough palm and steady grip. The heat of him seeps through my skin like sunlight through storm clouds. My heart thunders, a wild drumbeat echoing off the stone walls, but it's not fear. It's hunger. The gods' words coil in my gut like thorns...Seal your bonds. And gods help me, I want to. With every fiber of my sassy, stubborn soul. He stops in the heart of the chamber, where the floor dips into a natural bed of moss. The air hums here, thicker than before, laced with the scent of damp earth and ancient secrets. A single shaft of moonlight filters through a crack high above, silvering the edges of his sandy hair, turning it to spun gold. His eyes, golden, fierce and reverent, lock on mine, and for a breath, we just stand there with our chests heaving, the space between us crackling like dry tinder waiting for flame. "Branwen," h
The Wilder Games - Savage Surrender 1 #18 The Dream of the Old Five
Branwen POVSleep drags me under hard and fast. One blink and I’m not in the cave anymore.The air is wet, thick, and heavy with magic. I stand in a circle of ancient trees older than the Wilds themselves, their roots glowing faintly like veins of light in the ground. A mist curls low across the moss, cool and sweet like rain on stone. I can feel them before I see them, the weight of divinity, and the hum of old power pressing on my skin.Five figures step out from the mist.Rootmother first, massive and calm, her skin like bark, and her eyes green with the pulse of deep earth. She smells of soil and growing things. Behind her, Solon walks in gold light, bare-chested, his skin the color of the sun at noon, with eyes molten and unyielding. Luneth glides beside him, silver-haired and veiled, with moonlight woven into her dress. Virel rises from the water pooling at my feet, all blue and white and endless motion, her laughter soft and sad. And finally Galeon, storm-eyed and sharp, wind c
The Wilder Games - Savage Surrender 1 #17 Lion's Restraint
Hadrian POVThe sun bleeds low, the gold sinking into the trees as if the Wilds are swallowing the day whole. We’ve been running for hours, and the land ahead opens into a rise thick with oaks and dark brush. I can feel it, the pull of safety, the hum of ground that listens.“This’ll do,” I say, my voice rough. “High ground, narrow access, good sightlines.”Branwen steps beside me, her chest still heaving from the run. Her dark curls cling to her temples, wild and damp, her eyes alive even in the dimming light. She looks around once, scanning like a soldier, then nods.“Fine choice, Lion,” she says. “You’re learning.”I huff a quiet laugh. “You say that like I wasn’t born for strategy.”“You were born to roar,” she shoots back, grinning. “But I’ll allow both.”Zarrk slinks out of the shadows behind her, smooth and unbothered, like he hasn’t been following her scent all afternoon. “I’ll check the perimeter,” he says. “Traps and wards need setting before dark.”Branwen’s eyes flick towa
The Wilder Games - Savage Surrender 1 #16 The Poison Crown
Queen Seressa Coilheart POVThe Sunken DepthsThe water trembles around the basilica when I scream.The lanterns lining the black canals flicker, bending in the waves my rage summons. Silas’s death echoes through every bone in this rotten palace like a curse. My son, my heir, gone, slain by that cursed witch.The witch they call Branwen Mosswood.The name coils on my tongue like a thorned vine. I taste her magic even here, miles beneath the Wild surface, where the air smells of moss, metal, and memory.“Fetch me the wardens,” I whisper.No one moves. The hall is full of serpents in silk, my courtiers, my venom scholars, and my whispering priests. None dare breathe. I stand at the edge of the water, watching the reflection of my crown ripple over the black glass. My braids gleam like lacquered armor, heavy with pearls and gold. The gown I wear is older than kingdoms, sheer as oil, slick as a lie.“I said,” I hiss softly, “fetch me the wardens.”The doors open at once. Two of them enter
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