The Einrík Region [Looking for Arena Masters & Elites!]

Einrík

A land of passion caught in the throes of a brutal dispute about which of two powerful families deserves to rule it.

The origins of Einrík are a matter of debate. No one can seem to agree on exactly when civilization began to flourish here, but what most can agree on is that the two most affluent families of Einrík—House Stone and House Grave—have ruled it since its beginnings. They've been in constant conflict since their onset, and tensions between them continue to boil to this day. Currently, House Stone has control of Einrík's throne, and has had it ever since the last civil war ended one hundred years ago.

Tensions are rising once more, and while the way in which war is waged has changed, the effects remain the same.

Now most tactics revolve around subversion and politics, with each house striking silent blows at the other as they attempt to whittle their rivals down, piece by unforgiving piece. The pieces are dissolving, and the peace of the land is sure to be the next thing to go. If events continue spiraling down the path they seem to be taking, Einrík is in store for more blood than has ever before washed over its land.

And this time it could reach far beyond the field of battle.

The House of Stone

Otherwise known as the ruling family of Einrík.

Nowadays House Stone is known for oil, having monopolized the oil mining industry within Einrík. This stands as the primary source of their wealth, and gives them control over many aspects of life in Einrík. The current head of the family is a man named Ulysses Stone, who runs his well oiled machine with an iron fist.

House Stone has opposed House Grave since their conception, and they now boast an ancient lineage that can be traced across the globe. The royal family lives in a castle, built many ages ago by long dead Monarchs of Stone, that sits within an indentation in the Silfsteinn Mountains. Ulysses lives here with his daughter, Adalia Stone, as well as his brother, sister, and their families. His wife, Lady Amelia Stone, passed away many years ago from a strange sickness that had spread across Einrík.

A sickness that many loyal to House Stone believe was created by House Grave.

The sickness had primarily been restricted to the Stonelands, the areas west of Silfsteinn Pass. The eastern lands of House Grave, known as the Ashlands, were left practically untouched by the disease. After Lady Amelia died, this theory consolidated itself in Ulysses Stone's mind, and his rule turned harsh, particularly against citizens of the Ashlands. This has only served to further the divide between the two Houses, and both have been readying themselves for war over the past decade. By this point, another war for Einrík's throne is an eventuality.

House Stone has held the throne for one hundred years. Before that, House Grave ruled the region for two hundred and thirty six years. Previous to that, the throne had belonged to House Stone for nearly four centuries. This little game of back and forth has been going on for at least six millennia, with no sign of stopping.

That is until one of the Houses is eliminated.

The House of Ash

House Stone's ancient opposition.

Named for their connection to death, the earliest ancestors of House Grave attended to Einrík's dead. After multiple plagues and diseases many centuries ago that resulted in innumerable bodies being burned, House Grave became known as the House of Ash, and the two titles are now used interchangeably.

House Grave rules over the Ashlands of the east, but they still answer to House Stone when it comes to the final say in most matters. The only aspect of life that House Stone dares not touch is that of burial rites and the deceased. Only House Grave may attend to these matters, and the citizens of Einrík would have it no other way. Due to this, a Gravehouse exists in all major cities and most towns of Einrík, even in the Stonelands, where members of House Grave dwell and see to Einrík's dead.

The head of the House of Ash is Lady Olivia Graves, who rules alongside her husband, Adam Graves. Castle Graves is located on the northwest banks of Lake Lífjǫr, the Lake of Life. House Grave owns almost all of the farmland in Einrík, which gives it leverage against House Stone. As House Stone has power over Einrík's military while House Grave has only its guards and other small forces to rely on, this leverage is much needed for them to remain a power in Einrík.

House Grave also controls the best medical institutes and practitioners in Einrík, which is both part of the reason why the Ashlands mostly avoided the sickness of twenty years ago and why those in the Stonelands suspect them of having manufactured the disease.

The Land of Einrík

Einrík is a mostly temperate region, experiencing mild seasons all around. The summers aren't boiling, and the winters aren't freezing. Snow will sometimes grace its otherwise evergreen lands, but for the most part this only occurs high in the mountains, with its highest peaks being white almost year round. The western half of the region is composed primarily of forests, with the east being mostly plains. Mountains surround it to the north and west, as well as split it down the center. This natural divide acts as the barrier between the lands of House Stone and House Graves.

Many settlements dot its landscapes, though most of them are smaller in scale. Its two main cities radiate outwards from the regal homes of the two ruling families, with four more smaller cities and four large towns composing the majority of Einrík's population. In the southeast sits Einrík's main bay, where most travelers and traders from afar enter and leave the region. The ocean touches the southwest border as well, but this area is blocked by mountains, so only small ports have been established. A land bridge between these two bays connects it to land in the south. Open areas to the east dissolve into the neighboring region, while in the west, the only connection is that of Thessrík Pass, which runs through the mountains and connects Einrík to the region of Thessali. This pass also leads to the Thessrík Ruins and Thessrík Temple, which are historical marvels that display an ancient connection between the two regions.

Lake Lífjǫr, which sits in the Ashlands of the east, serves as Einrík's largest freshwater source, with two main rivers flowing out from its east and southwest ends, and these rivers split off into various smaller rivers that cut through most of Einrík. It is known as the Lake of Life, deriving its name from the words líf, meaning a life, and fjǫr, which also means life, but pertains more to the energies, vigor and spirit of said life.

The Silfsteinn Mountains rise high into the air, and are rich in various ores, particularly silver. They also sit atop many rich oil deposits, which serve as House Stone's lifeblood. These mountains serve as the northern and western borders of Einrík, as well as a barrier between the Ashlands and the Stonelands. The mountains' name derives from the words silfr, meaning silver, and steinn, meaning stone.

The Forests of Kynkvísl cover most of the Stonelands and serve as the primary source for lumber in Einrík. Old legends of Einrík tell of the trees holding the spirits and secrets of Einrík's ancestors, and so were named "Kynkvísl," the Forests of Lineage.

The Pokémon of Einrík

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The People of Einrík

Einrík is home to neither the typical Pokémon Professor nor Gym Leaders. Einrík's foremost researcher is an archaeologist, Doctor Tierra Opal, who studies the history of Einrík and its many fossils. Recently she's been contacted by the International Pokémon League Association in hopes of establishing a branch in Einrík, so she's now in the habit of occasionally granting new trainers one of three starter Pokémon—Turtwig, Totodile or Chimchar—which are all native to Einrík.

As far as Gyms go, Einrík does not currently have strong ties with the IPLA, so they don't have an official Pokémon League or Gym system. Instead, they have various arenas, where trainers can battle for Medallions. Once a trainer has collected at least nine Medallions, they may enter the annual Festival of Balance, where they can battle one another for a chance to battle Einrík's elite and perhaps be crowned Champion.

The Faces of Einrík

As it's mostly unaffiliated with the International Pokémon League Association, Einrík instead has Arenas. Each Arena is headed by an Arena Master, and if a trainer can best a Master in battle, they will receive a Medallion. There are thirteen Arenas throughout Einrík, and at least nine Medallions are required in order to participate in the annual Festival of Balance Conference.

There is an arena in every major settlement of Einrík, with the exception of Lysinnganga.

The type specialties of the thirteen Masters only exclude Fire, Water, Grass, Electric, and Dark.

The Stonelands

The Ashlands

Coming Soon!

Beginnings

Chaos is the ruling force of the universe. It preceded it. It was the primordial state of everything. Order came later, bursting forth from the void to mold the uncontrolled energies of Chaos into recognizable shapes.

Even now, the universe tends to flow towards Chaos. Living beings are things of order, anomalies of the universe around them. Order and Chaos flow together to create everything we know, to orchestrate wonders.

Some would say that Chaos always wins out.

In the end, everything perishes. Everything breaks down and returns to a state of Chaos. Later it will all be reordered into new creations, only to be destined to break down once more. It's a cycle, and everything must follow it.

But one creature of Chaos has existed perhaps since the conception of the universe, and she's not one to accept limits.

The state in which Einrík finds itself is obvious, but the questions behind it have yet to be answered.

This creature of Chaos inspires Chaos. She thrives off of it. She controls it. And she won't be satisfied until it consumes everything.

Is she the reason for so many Pokémon going out of control? It's certainly her style. But if she is the culprit, then this is just the beginning.

Out of Control?

"So what exactly is it that we're seeing here, Alethea?"

"Well, Shai, as you can see behind me, many Pokémon just seem to be losing control."

Alethea Argyris turned, gesturing to the spectacle unfolding mere feet beyond her. The high stone walls of Dysborg Castle loomed on the horizon, and a gentle breeze from the lake of life was wafting through the area. In the foreground, however, various trainers and handlers were doing their best to maintain control of their Pokémon. Wild Starly and Staravia were swooping low and pecking at random bystanders, while a disgruntled Darmanitan raged against its trainer and a Pokémon Ranger that were attempting to calm it down. People were running about aimlessly as they trampled over one another, trying to clear the area.

"Multiple Rangers have been dispatched in attempts to calm the Pokémon, but matters only seem to be getting worse by the hour. So far the Golurk that guard the castle seem unaffected, and many Pokémon retain their typical demeanor, but countless Pokémon have completely lost control, and they appear entirely inconsolable. We've yet to receive an official statement from either Ulysses Stone or Olivia Graves, and there's still no word on what could be potentially causing this mayhem. As is natural in such times, though, there has been much speculation on the cause, and we managed to get an exclusive interview with Sindri Kron, the head lorekeeper here in Dysborg. Let's take a look at that, shall we?"


The screen shifted back to Shai Mata, who sat at his usual desk, looking as sharp as ever. "And I'm afraid that's all the time we have. This is Shai Mata of Channel Five News. Until next time, when we'll be back with more updates on what, exactly, has left Pokémon in Einrík so out of control."

Primeval

Einrík, the land of ash and stone. Its mountains stand tall, imposing, and harsh. Only a hardy people could survive here, and its residents have become such. Many secrets hide beneath these rock layers.

One thing that Einrík boasts is an abundance of Pokémon fossils, which is exactly why its primary researcher is an archaeologist, rather than a Pokémon Professor. Through various efforts to unearth, revitalize and rehabilitate numerous Pokémon long lost to the sands of time, Einrík has become home to renewed versions of creatures like Archeops and Bastiodon. They now roam free in carefully sanctioned off reserves, living out their lives as any normal Pokémon would.

But in times like these, when even civilized and populated areas have their risks, the ancient wilds are places of great danger.


The man watched with a mixture of fear and awe as he clung to the side of the rock face. Fifty feet above him, two ancient Pokémon were getting ready to face off.

Tyrantrum, the king of the ancient world, and Rampardos, the terror of the jungle. Both were formidable in their own right. Tyrantrum had a clear size and weight advantage, but when it came to brute force, Rampardos was unmatched by anything besides Pokémon of legend and mega forms.

The man was foolish enough to look down, causing him to cringe and hold his breath as he tried to ignore the immense drop beneath him. He'd been forced down here to avoid the battling dinosaurs above, but now his only way to get out of this situation unscathed was to laterally scale the cliff he was holding onto for dear life, until he reached a point where he could safely climb upwards, avoid the hostile creatures above him, and find his way back to the main mountain path.

It wasn't a safe plan by any means, but it was the safest route open to him.

He extended his leg, finding a foothold off to the side. He grabbed onto a rock and diagonally hoisted himself up onto a ledge not too far away. He took a moment to catch his breath. He could feel the tremors signaling movement above. Dirt poured onto him as it was shaken loose. He feared what else might come loose if things got too rough up there.

Whatever did happen, he couldn't allow himself to panic. If he did, he'd surely meet his end.

He'd scaled mountains before, but normally in a situation like this he'd have assistance from his Archeops.

He hadn't seen his partner in days.

Whatever was happening with the Pokémon lately had affected the bird, and it was affecting the two dueling above his head.

He ducked as a stone fell past his head. Things were beginning to heat up.

He took a deep breath. As long as he could find a foothold, he'd be fine. He hoped. He reached out towards another stone, but as he went to grab it, the mountain trembled and he nearly lost his footing. He glanced up to see the tail of the Tyrantrum flailing about. The larger dinosaur had been slammed into a boulder near the cliff side, and was now fighting to keep his balance.

And that fight threatened his own balance.

The Tyrantrum struggled to get to its feet, but the Rampardos continued its assault. It tucked in its head and ran at the Tyrantrum a second time, slamming it deeper into the boulder that it was pressed up against, shattering it into pieces that nearly crushed the man below. The Tyrantrum twisted its neck and wrapped its jaw around the Rampardos's tail. The Rampardos wailed out and pulled back, effectively bringing the Tyrantrum back to its feet as its jaw refused to give.

The Rampardos clawed at the Tyrantrum, managing to do little with its short arms, before biting down on the Tyrantrum's crest. The larger dinosaur reeled back in pain, letting out a guttural roar that echoed through the mountains. The two creatures began to circle each other again, with the Tyrantrum baring its massive teeth and the Rampardos preparing to charge.

As they readied their attacks, the Rampardos's head began to glow a bright blue, while Tyrantrum's crest took on a bright orange light. Both Pokémon charged at the other with Head Smash, meeting in the middle of the circle they'd outlined with an intense flourish of blue and orange sparks. For a moment it seemed that they'd stalemated, but a second later Rampardos's superior physical strength prevailed and the Tyrantrum was forced back with a sickening crack!

The man below took a moment to catch his breath on one of the larger outcroppings. He was nearly there.

He looked up just in time to see the Tyrantrum begin to fall. Its neck had been snapped. It was dead.

And as it stumbled over the cliff, it brought a miniature landslide with it. The man's pupils dilated and his eyes widened in fear. He tried to push himself to his feet, desperate to get away, but he was thrown off balance as the Tyrantrum's corpse flew by him. He twisted and fell on his back, then watched as a large rock fell directly towards him.

He heard the disgusting crunch as his leg was crushed. He screamed out in pain, his nerves flaring to a point where he felt as if he was going to lose consciousness. His vision began to blur. He was going to die here, alongside the Tyrantrum.

These Pokémon were simply primeval.

Betrayed

So this was Steinnborg.

Fletch glanced up at the castle, which stood high above the rest of the city. The King District in the southwest was the naturally highest land in the capital, and Steinnborg castle dominated it. High stone walls rose up around it, with bright torches and imposing balustrades dotting it. Rumor had it that Lampent tended to the torches, and were prepared to devour the souls of anyone who threatened the castle.

That'd be a neat trick, considering Lampent weren't native to Einrík, but perhaps that was the point. The royal family certainly had the power and influence to orchestrate a trap like that, and from what Fletch had thus far witnessed within this land, it wouldn't be a stretch to believe that they'd go to such lengths.

It was no secret that they had Aegislash guarding the throne, and likely had many Doublade and Honedge patrolling the castle interior, while, over in Dysborg, House Grave had Golurk and Golette defending their castle. The families had a thing for the dead, it seemed. Fletch supposed it made sense; ghosts couldn't age and die, after all, so they could defend the families as long as the lineages carried on. Who knew how long they'd been there, roaming the castle halls.

It was kind of creepy.

Anyways, things were remarkably calm here. He'd seen the news and how things were going in Dysborg. Things appeared to be perfectly fine.

Of course, appearances weren't always what they seemed.

There wasn't any sign of chaos like in Dysborg, but walking through the streets of this city, he could feel the tension. People rushing to their destinations, refusing to meet your eyes, looking down to avoid your gaze. Very few people had their Pokémon out, keeping them either in their Poké Balls or at home. It was calm, yes, but in the most unsettling of ways.

He now sat at a bench in one of Steinnborg's parks, with his Roserade meditating under a nearby tree and his Luxray napping beside him. They'd come here from Thessali in the west, seeking out new places to explore. It looked like he'd come at a bad time. He had no idea what was going on around here, but he didn't like it.

For now, though, he'd stick around, see what there was to do.

Perhaps that was his mistake.

"Come on, guys, let's get going. Plenty more region to explore," Fletch said, nudging his sleeping Luxray, Spíra. His Roserade, Atheia, got to her feet and began to walk over to him. He glanced down when he suddenly heard a growl emanating from Spíra.

"You okay, buddy?"

Spíra never growled at him. This couldn't be good. He stood up and took a spot next to Atheia. "What's wrong?" he asked the Luxray.

Spíra's pupils were dilated. They were like small black specks in his bright yellow eyes. His lips curled back, revealing his fangs. In an instant he'd leaped from his spot by the bench and pinned Fletch to the ground, his mouth ready to close around his trainer's neck. Atheia reacted with poise, firing a flurry of Magical Leaf at Spíra, knocking him back. She jumped between the lynx and their trainer, pointing one arm at Spíra and holding the other down in front of Fletch. It was a protective stance.

"Spíra, what's wrong?" Fletch yelled, rising to his feet. "Don't you—"

He was cut off by the sudden thundering of footsteps. Suddenly the area was enveloped in an intense mist that obscured vision almost completely. Before he could get a sense of what was happening, he felt a sharp blow across his head. He briefly glimpsed a Leaf Storm Atheia had conjured up before he blacked out completely.

When he came to, the first thing he noticed was the cold. Where was he? It was made of stone. It was dark and a bit damp. Was this some sort of dungeon? What the hell was going on?

The air moved with a flapping of wings. He saw a large figure outlined by the ceiling. Dim torchlight illuminated his small section of the room, but he couldn't see much else.

"Well, well, well, he's finally awake."

A figure stepped forward from the darker part of the room. What was this, some horror cliché?

The moment the figure entered the flickering light of the flames, the entire room flashed and was suddenly bathed in a bright sheen. Torches around the room lit up. Fletch noticed various Pokémon, including a Ninetales, an Arcanine, and four Growlithe. They all stuck to the edges of the room, but their flames illuminated its entirety.

"Where am I?" Fletch asked, slowly getting to his feet. He was sore, but he didn't seem to be injured.

The man raised an eyebrow, giving a look that seemed to question Fletch's intelligence.

"Inside The Stone Castle, of course."

Another name for Steinnborg Castle. Places like these had so many names and nicknames, it could become rather confusing.

So Fletch asked the obvious question. "Why? And where are my Pokémon?"

The strange man sighed. "Protocol, my dear simpleton. One of your little friends has succumbed to the darkness of the Witch, so I'm afraid that he'll be staying here for quite some time. You . . . well, you can leave with your Roserade as soon as we're through here."

"Through with what?" Fletch growled.

The man put a finger to his lips. "We can't very well just let you go saying whatever you want, now can we?"

Fletch opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could a figure flew across the room faster than his eye could track. His mouth was slammed shut by a tentacle, and his eyes held open. The Malamar fixed its gaze to Fletch's. The trainer could feel his faculties weakening, and he suddenly felt . . . clouded.

"Now relax. You'll be gone from here soon."

After all, the House of Stone couldn't allow itself to be betrayed.

The Witch & The Angel

Is that it?

That's it. It's an ancient legend, you must understand. One commonly told to the children of Einrík. Is there more to it? Of course, but who knows how much of it is true, how much of it has been twisted throughout the ages? I find that simplicity is sometimes the best path to clarity. Does it tell the whole truth? Perhaps, perhaps not, but it's a starting point. If you really want to find the truth, then do not worry. The truth will find you eventually.

If you say so.

Heart of Stone

Long blonde hair flowed down her back, jutting off in spikes as sharp as her personality. Her crystal blue eyes pierced through the shadows and gazed out across the city. Lights blazed in the distance as people began to lock themselves indoors for the night. A few stragglers darted around in the streets, with a sensation of unease beginning to settle over the evening.

Her eyes picked out a small group ambling along, without a care in the world. She was about to fix that.

She reached out her arm to the wall beside her. A ray of shadows burst forth, swirling around her arm and consuming her.

She took a step forward, suddenly standing a few feet away from the group she had targeted. The shadows continued to wrap around her, causing her to appear as a three dimensional shadow form. She shambled into the light in front of the group, causing the shadows around her to become more exaggerated. The group froze in its tracks. The shadows writhed around her body, and she lunged.
Screams filled the air and the teenagers in the group split up and ran in all directions. As they disappeared, the shadows left the girl and she began to laugh hysterically.

"That was great," she managed to say between laughs. With a deep breath she managed to calm herself.

"These people are so easy. Show them a bit of chaos and they set themselves up for disaster, constantly on edge, amplifying their problems. I love it!"

She glanced down at her shadow. "So, what shall we do next? I've become bored here. I can't exactly terrorize this city all that much before someone recognizes me."

The shadow flickered under a street lamp.
"Sounds fun," she responded, though if anyone were watching it would seem like she was talking to herself.

She held out her arms and fell backwards. As she hit the ground, she fell through it, dissolving into her own shadow. Shadows were a faster way to travel, after all.

In an instant she found herself by water. Lake Lífjǫr. She glanced around. This was definitely Dysborg. She stifled a giggle. Messing with the ghouls as a little midnight fun? It was an incredibly amusing notion.

She turned and walked towards the castle. Similarly to Steinnborg, most of the people here had already locked themselves inside for the night. But she'd heard some gossip about a torrid little love affair between one of the younger women of the ghouls and a handsome boy from a foreign land. How charmingly vomit-worthy.

She glanced at her watch. If what she'd hear was true, then . . . now would be the perfect opportunity.

As she approached the castle from the lakeside, she craned her head upwards and caught a faint light radiating out over one of the balconies. There they were.

The girl was laughing. He short brown hair framed her youthful face. She was barely sixteen. The boy looked to be about the same age, with a faint hint of facial hair encroaching on his smiling visage. He was leaning up against the ledge of the balcony, and she was hanging on her bedroom doorway that opened up to the outdoors. They were three or four stories up.

Below, the dark visitor cackled. Shadows enveloped her once more as her laughter echoed through the night.
Fools die when shadows lie.
"Boo!" she yelled as her blackened form appeared between the two young lovers. Shadows roared out of her at astonishing speeds, covering the entire balcony in seconds. The girl behind her screamed, the the boy called out as he lost his balance and tumbled backwards.

She watched as the boy plummeted to the earth below, landing with a sickening crunching sound. He'd been unfortunate enough to land on his neck first.

The assailant dissipated with the shadows, and the girl immediately rushed to the edge of the balcony to catch sight of her lover. His body lay limp in the grass below. She screamed his name, tears rushing to her eyes.

A cold laughter echoed through her room.

A boy had just died, but the killer had seen it as entertainment.

Oh Gods. I don't know how I overlooked this one. I haven't had time to read all the posts beyond when character apps started coming in, but this is one of the most finely crafted regions I've read. I can really feel the care that went into each piece of lore; everything fits together so well and it has a distinctly somber flavor to it.

Just wanted to say, even though I don't have time to interact with this region right now, this is beautifully done. Good show.

Steinnborg
Loptbygð
Skybjarg
Hafdyrr
Ofanstaðr
Norðrmǫrk
Holtheim
Fljótvǫllr​

Dysborg I'll be assigning Golgari's character here.
Vatnfit
Krellrá
Himinn
Hveitiakr
Lysinnganga There is no Arena here.​

Name: Noxiel Reinford
House: Unaligned
Class: Electric-type Elite
Description: A man who always has a gas mask on. It is said he once had a weak body when he was a child and so his mom made him wear the mask to protect him from getting sick so often until his body strengthen. He works out, surprisingly. Even though he is fine without a gask mas, Noxiel still wears them and rarely removes the item.

Typically quiet and docile with a gloomy air and an indifferent, blank/cool look. He is shown tampering with electronic devices and is a mechanic himself. A lot of people assume he is a ghost or dark type trainer: Noxiel is not. They are taken aback once they know this.

This boy is not easily fooled, he has no intentions of befriending anyone (in other words, a lone wolf). Gets annoyed when being bothered and not in the mood to deal with distractions. An Emolga is usually seen accompanying him.

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