Prep Summer Camp 2025
Week 1: Homework
Nourishment
In times of peace, nourishment in Rhycullun was as varied as its landscapes, drawn from forest, sea, leyline, or flame. But that peace has shattered. War now stretches its grip across fields and markets alike, turning survival into a game not of harvest, but of strategy, smugggling, and sacrifice.
Caerwreath Kingdom
The Aeravalz Empire
Thunder’s Point
The Fenreach Concord
Genligh Kingdom
Del Yerlusta
The Pearlborne Isles
Suzdal Territory
Jazhail
My Pledge
I want to continue to be inspired, to chase that spark that first pulled Eluvemar out of my dreams and into something real. My mind is always busy, flooded with creatures, moments, and magic I can’t always explain. Summer Camp is my excuse to let it all pour out without perfection as the goal, just freedom to create something new. Something exciting. Something that feels alive.
Even though I often second guess myself… even though the voices in my head don’t always make it cleanly to the page, I’m done letting that stop me. This world—the mess, the myths, the dreams—it means something to be creative, even if it’s just for me. And I want to see it grow.
For this challenge, I’m focusing on Rhycullun, one of the core continents of Eluvemar. It’s vast, volatile, and full of the contradictions I love; fierce storms and quiet ruins, noble empires and pirate chaos, whispered legends and raw survival. It’s time I brought its contents into the light… or at least onto “paper”.
I’m not here to win badges. I’m here to explore. To push myself. To find joy in building. To create a place where the strange little dreamworld in my head finally breathes.
I am telling myself: No more holding back!
Eluvemar Meta
I am going to be clipping at it slowly over the next couple of weeks.
Week 2 Homework
Roots
This Summer Camp, I’ll be using the challenge to explore more of the continent of Rhycullun. The world is massive, but I’ll mostly be focusing on three kingdoms in this continent that have become the backbone of my setting: Caerwreath, Aeravalz, and Thunder’s Point. These three couldn’t be more different, but they all share something at their core that drives how their people live, fight, and survive.
For me, roots aren’t just about where something began. They’re about what holds when everything else breaks. They’re scars turned into culture, beliefs that shape whole nations, and the quiet things people carry when no one else remembers. In Caerwreath, roots are carved into stone and survival. In Aeravalz, they’re etched in silence and control. And in Thunder’s Point, they’re forged in fire and defiance.
This is where I’m starting. Let’s see how deep the roots go. Pun intended
Caerwreath Kingdom
“Stand tall, burn bright, and never bow to silence.”Caerwreath’s roots are carved into stone and storm. Once no more than a dwarven mining settlement buried deep in the Guardian Peaks, it grew slowly, shaped by frost, hardship, and the quiet fury of those who survived when the world broke. The death of the god Silas at the hands of the Silent Voice happened long before Caerwreath rose, but its impact settled like snow on the mountains. The gods’ silence became the people’s burden. While other nations fell into fear, control, or denial, those in the north built something different. Over generations, dwarves, outcasts, beast-bonded, and wandering mages gathered in the shelter of the peaks. Together, they forged a kingdom where magic was not hidden but honoured, where divine silence was met with devotion, not rebellion. Though born from fragments, Caerwreath became a people united by faith, strength, and the unshaken belief that the gods left because we failed them... and we must become worthy again. Military citadels rose in the icebound heights, housing spell-knights, dragon riders, and sacred beast-walkers. Shrines were carved into mountain faces, fire was kept lit in the gods’ names. Magic flowed freely through town and trade, and the scars of divine absence became symbols of pride. To praise the Silent Voice or question the gods’ withdrawal is deeply taboo. Certain songs have vanished. Banned books are quietly burned. Even joking about rebellion against the divine is enough to mark someone as cursed. Still, Caerwreath endures. In the lowlands, new towns rise, some born from old homesteads, others from refugee camps swelling with the displaced. Spellwork is taught alongside reading. In the mountains, the Watch keeps vigil from dragonback. Grief is carved into cairns. Freedom is worshipped through survival. To be Caerwreath is to remember what was lost... and to never stop climbing.
Aeravalz Empire
“No tongue shall speak the future. No hand shall rouse what should sleep.”Aeravalz’s roots are not forged in conquest or pride, but in control! Born from the devastation left by the Saint of Ashen Steps. The Empire rose not because it embraced magic, but because it contained it. Its citizens are raised to believe they are the last barrack against oblivion, the final defence between civilisation and collapse. Discipline, order, and sacrifice are not just virtues… but they are really the walls holding reality together. Magic is not wonder here. It is wildfire. The gods abandoned the world for a reason, and Aeravalz alone must hold the line. The Order of Tempered Fate leads not through hope, but through duty. Obedience is safety. Obedience is survival. To the Aeravalz Empire, other kingdoms are reckless children playing with tinder, dancing through ruin as if the Saint’s footsteps never scorched the world. Aeravalz watches, and tightens its grip. Daily life in Aeravalz is a quiet ritual of restraint. At dusk, a bell tolls across the cities, and for one minute the Empire falls silent in honour of Princess Almerys and the Doctrine , a moment of reverence where even breath seems held. This silence, though brief, carries weight. Breaking it is more than a discourtesy. In some cities, it is considered an act of suspicion. During the observance known as Ashfast, devout citizens consume only bland, heatless food for ten days, a symbolic rejection of fire, indulgence, and the chaos that once nearly ended the world. Knowledge is no freer than appetite. Old texts on leyline theory, divine communion, or magical philosophy are forbidden. Libraries are watched, and scribes are taught only the approved truths of the Empire. And now, in a time of war, the rules grow sharper still. All magic is forbidden. Use it, and you will be found. You will be tried. And you will almost certainly be executed. There is no forgiveness, only enforcement. No redemption. Only silence.
Thunder’s Point
"Take what you can. Burn what they love. Eat what bites back."Thunder’s Point roots are not held in an ancient bloodline, no divine mandate, no sacred history carved in stone. Its roots are not honoured, they are seized. Once a chain of volcanic isles considered uninhabitable, it became a haven for the outcast and the condemned: deserters, exiled witches, escaped slaves, oathbreakers, and pirate lords with nothing left to lose. Where kingdoms spoke of heritage, Thunder’s Point carved its future from lava and shipwrecks. Skullhaven, the capital, was built into the heart of the active volcano, Ember Summit. City made of blackened stone, rusted iron, and ever-rising sails. The Pirate King united warbands and shattered fleets not through loyalty, but through shared fury. Here, no one bows to a crown, or a cause but only to survival. This is not a place of unity. It is a crucible. Culture in Thunder’s Point is born in fire and tempered in blood. There are no inherited traditions here, only what can be carried on one’s back and defended with a blade. Yet in the smoke and salt, a few brutal customs have taken root. Those who survive brutal raids or near-death trials are branded with volcanic iron, some choose a mark, others are seared without ceremony. It is not a badge of honour, but proof you bled and did not die. When vengeance is sworn, crews carve names into driftwood and hurl them into the sea. If the wood returns, the vow is fulfilled. If not, the debt endures. Each year, the Feast of Broken Chains ignites Skullhaven. Pirates burn chains in bonfires, cast old names into the tide, and drink until they forget… or remember far too much. This is the celebrate the rise of the Pirate King. Law does not exist in Thunder’s Point, only consequence. But even pirates have rules etched in blood. Oathbreakers find no mercy: betray your crew, and your name will rot across every port. Knives will follow. The sea will not take you back. Trade with the Empire is forbidden. Sell even a coil of rope to imperial forces, and your body may dangle from Skullhaven’s gates, mouth stuffed with wax seals To be of Thunder’s Point is not a birthright. It is survival. It is fire. And no one leaves unchanged.
My Homepage
I’ve only just started using World Anvil properly this past month. I tried it a few years ago, but at the time it felt like trying to cast Wish without the spell slot. Overwhelming, arcane, and slightly terrifying. So I stuck to what I knew… a chaos hoard of apps, notebooks, scraps of printer paper, and the occasional ideas scribbled on the back of a receipt, oops. But now? Now I’m ready to drag this beast of a world into one place. Eluvemar deserves a home worthy for its gods, pirates, dragons, and way too many political secrets. I’ve started building my own CSS theme to make it feel celestial, dripping with blues and golds like it was blessed by starlight and held together with divine glue. Which has now lead the homepage as is a work in progress (aka: it changes weekly because I can’t stop tinkering). And once I finally figure out these cursed book covers… (yes, I’ve been haunting the Discord for answers since I started this journey), I’ll be one step closer to worldbuilding glory. Or madness…. Same thing, really!
My Writing Roots
I’ve been trying to write stories for as long as I can remember. The problem? Getting what’s in my imagination to behave long enough to stay on the page. I’m a dreamer…literally… I have vivid, detailed dreams that stick with me, often becoming the roots of entire worlds. The downside? I usually wake up more exhausted than when I went to sleep. But the upside is... creation. Endless, unstoppable, wild storm like creation. Over the years, I’ve tried to chase those stories down and make them real. I’ve started novels (many), finished like none of them, but I have kept an ever-growing hoard of notes, scraps, character sketches, and half-baked plots scattered across notebooks, apps, and even on the backs of napkins. There’s always been a storm in my head.I just didn’t always know how to shape it. Some of my early projects were... well… ambitious. There was one where I tried writing a multi-POV epic that spun through different timelines and angles. Turns out, managing that as a solo writer with no outline was like herding cats through a hurricane. Another time, in high school, I started a survival story set on a mysterious lost island, only to realise I had no actual idea how survival works. No research, just vibes. Then there was the supernatural-modern-Earth setting I poured myself into. I loved the ideas, but trying to mesh fantasy with our real world ended up feeling like I was constantly fighting my own rules. In hindsight, I should have just made my own world from scratch. And that’s what I’m doing now. In 2020, during one of the darkest chapters of my life, a world started forming in my mind, piece by piece, dream by dream. Building it helped me survive. It gave me something to hold onto, something I could control when everything else felt like it was falling apart. That world became Eluvemar, and now, for the first time, I’m giving it the space it deserves. No more trying to fit it into boxes. No more scattered scraps. Just one world, fully mine with dragons, gods, pirates, shadow-creatures and all the secerts. It’s not perfect, but it’s alive. And I think that’s a damn good place to start.
Week 3 Homework
Metamorphosis
To me, metamorphosis and adaptation in Eluvemar isn’t really about creatures growing wings or learning new magic. It’s about history slamming into people so hard they either change or crumble. It’s about kingdoms reshaping themselves after the gods physically disappeared, after continents broke apart, after the light was snuffed out and no one came to fix it. These aren’t peaceful changes.. they’re jagged, messy, and usually soaked in consequence. The world didn’t gently evolve. It was dragged forward kicking and screaming… and everyone left had to adapt, whether they wanted to or not.
Adaptions that have changed Eluvemar
The world of Eluvemar has undergone profound transformations, reshaping not just the land but the very soul of its people. In an earlier age, the gods walked openly among mortals. They were seen as radiant and just, guiding creation with light and divine purpose. Cities flourished under their gaze, and magic thrived in harmony with the divine. But over time, cracks began to show. Not all mortals saw perfection. Some saw power hoarded behind benevolence. Others glimpsed the weight of obedience demanded by these so-called protectors. It was from this disillusionment that the Silent Voice first emerged. The Silent Voice began as a whisper of rebellion… not in anger, but in doubt. They questioned why the gods ruled unquestioned, why their will was law. And in time, their doubt became defiance. They struck at Silas, God of Knowledge and Invention, and succeeded in ending his divine life. His death did more than shocked and angered the gods. It brought on the shattering of the world. Continents split. Darkness poured across the seas like a living veil, cutting lands off from each other. Travel faltered. Magic fractured. And the gods, whether by choice or fear, their physical forms vanished altogether. From this cataclysm, new orders began to rise. In isolation, people rebuilt. Some clung to divine memory, believing that the gods left because mortals failed them, not the other way around. Other generations saw that gods’ withdrawal was confirmation that power must be contained. Magic, in their eyes, had proven itself too dangerous, too wild. That belief formed in the roots of the Aeravalz Empire, (along with the prophecy), a dominion born from the ashes of fear, and doubt. Now, the world stands on the brink again. War rages across Rhycullun. The Empire outlaws all magic, enforcing obedience with blade and fire. Caerwreath stands in opposition, teaching magic in schools and honouring the divine silence with reverence rather than fear. Pirates raid the shattered coasts, chasing their own version of freedom. Rebels, dreamers, monsters, and saints all move through this broken land, that some say they can still hear the echoes of a dying god. Change is not finished. It never is. And those who try to halt it, who demand silence, stasis, and submission, may just find that the world still remembers how to fight back...
Inspiration
So when this prompt dropped, I was already neck-deep in Sleep Token’s new album, and by neck-deep, I mean it had basically become my entire personality for three weeks straight. That was… until K-Pop Demon Hunters came along and hijacked my playlist this past week (21st June and counting). But the damage was done. Vesunna’s Hollow was already blooming, stitched together from those haunting, grief-soaked lyrics and all the shadowy softness that Sleep Token evokes. So yeah, this one’s for the ache.
Vesunna’s Hollow
“It sings in the quiet places, where sleep tastes like longing and the stars don’t blink.”
Vesunna’s Hollow is a mysterious, otherworldly location that defies simple categorisation. It is not part of the Empire, the pirates, or the rebels. It belongs to something older, something forgotten… or perhaps deliberately left behind.
Discovered through a dream and inspired by the music of Sleep Token, Vesunna’s Hollow was envisioned as a liminal place. A cradle of divine and haunting beauty that does not follow mortal rules. There are no borders, no flags, and no time as we know it. Here, you’re not the dreamer… you are the dream. Those who stumble into the Hollow rarely return the same. Some claim to have wandered for mere hours, only to find years had passed. Others vanish without a trace, their last words written in half-finished hymns or sung softly by strangers.
Vesunna herself, if she exists at all, is whispered to be a guardian of dreams, grief, and transcendence. Her Hollow may be a sanctuary, a trap, or a forgotten altar. No one agrees.
The Hollow’s Atmosphere
• Echoing silence interrupted by distant lullabies
• Soft moss and slit instead of stone or soil
• Trees that bloom with memories instead of flowers
• Pools of still water that reflect not what is, but what could have been
Inspirations
Sleep Token’s ethereal, melancholic sound serves as the Hollow’s musical soul. Songs that feel like a prayer half-remembered or a love letter left unsent echo the energy of Vesunna’s domain. The Hollow is not just a place; it is a state of being, caught between heartbreak and holiness. Hymn of Vesunna (inspired by Sleep Token)
Oh Vesunna, cradle me gently,
Where sorrow curls like smoke in sleep.
In your arms, I lose my edges,
Drown in secrets I still keep.
Call my name through silver branches,
Let me break, let me become.
Not a soul, but something softer,
A hush beneath a rising sun.
• Echoing silence interrupted by distant lullabies
• Soft moss and slit instead of stone or soil
• Trees that bloom with memories instead of flowers
• Pools of still water that reflect not what is, but what could have been
Inspirations
Sleep Token’s ethereal, melancholic sound serves as the Hollow’s musical soul. Songs that feel like a prayer half-remembered or a love letter left unsent echo the energy of Vesunna’s domain. The Hollow is not just a place; it is a state of being, caught between heartbreak and holiness. Hymn of Vesunna (inspired by Sleep Token)
Oh Vesunna, cradle me gently,
Where sorrow curls like smoke in sleep.
In your arms, I lose my edges,
Drown in secrets I still keep.
Call my name through silver branches,
Let me break, let me become.
Not a soul, but something softer,
A hush beneath a rising sun.
World Anvil Community
I’ve been diving into the World Anvil community and checking out articles from other worldbuilders. Honestly, it’s been equal parts inspiring and humbling. People are out here crafting entire pantheons, writing political intrigue that could rival Game of Thrones, and creating creatures that make me question my own sanity in the best way.
I’m pretty shy around new people though, so the idea of suddenly jumping into comment threads, starting random conversations on Discord, or braving voice chat makes me feel like I’m about to fight a dragon solo at level one. But it’s comforting to know I’m not the only one trying to wrestle my worlds out of my head and onto the page. And sometimes, all it takes is reading someone else’s work to spark something chaotic and wonderful in my own.
Week 4 Homework
Tomorrow
In Rhycullun, tomorrow glimmers like a blade in half-light, shaped by kingdoms whose dreams cannot coexist. The Aeravalz Empire claws towards a future cleansed of magic, certain that only mortal will can hold back the chaos that once shattered the world, yet cracks run through their silence, where secrets and forbidden power seethe unseen. The Caerwreath Kingdom dares to believe in a dawn where dragons wheel across the skies and spellcraft breathes life into freedom, but even among rebels, doubt coils like a hidden serpent, threatening to tear their unity apart. Far to the east, Thunder’s Point burns beneath ash and salt, where the Pirate King rules a realm of brutal freedom and molten secrets, blind to whispers of new powers rising with silver sails and silent purpose. All believe they are forging tomorrow, but none can see how the true shape of the future waits, coiled and patient, in the dark.
Plan Ahead
The future waits for no one, so I’m preparing now to give my world of Rhycullun the attention it deserves. My writing schedule is set, with quiet hours each day dedicated to shaping kingdoms, weaving secrets, and breathing life into tomorrow’s stories (instead of playing on my PS5). My writing space is cleared of clutter and i have enough coffee to fuel an entire pirate fleet. My lore files and research notes stand ready, from the twin suns of Eluvemar to the hidden truths of Thunder’s Point. I have done a lot to get ready, though I’ll confess, stubs still confuse me a bit. I know they’re lurking there like shy goblins, but once I figure them out, I’ll be ready to turn them into thriving articles. When the challenge begins, I’ll be ready to transform echoes of ideas into this worldworth exploring, and maybe even keep my sanity in the process.
Connecting with the Community
Worldbuilding might be a solitary craft, but I know I’ll go further if I’m not alone in the dark with only my imaginary pirates for company. During Summer Camp, I’m planning to hang out in the World Anvil Discord, especially the Summer Camp channel, to share my wins, my woes, and probably a few desperate cries for help when lore tangles itself into knots. I’ll be letting my friends know what I’m up to so they can poke me if I start slacking. I’m also keeping my door open for feedback from fellow worldbuilders because sometimes a fresh pair of eyes can see the story gold hiding under all the chaos. My goal is to share snippets, ask questions, and cheer on others as we all try to wrangle our worlds into shape. And if all else fails, there’s always coffee (maybe sometimes… Gin), memes, and stubborn determination.
I can't wait to see what your creativity unleashes! I hope you find that joy in nurturing your beautiful contradictions. Good luck this summer!
Thank you. Should be interesting to see where this leads to.