⚔️Serberia

Baldr is the edge. The last glimmer of moonlight before the all-consuming horrors of the night, and even that barely penetrates the gnarled crowns of ancient trees. Behind every sound, every breath, there is a bravado that challenges the twisted notions of the chief blind men of Serberia and other places – those who dwell behind the tenth layer of walls in illusory abundance.
This is a camp in the middle of a dense forest. It is surrounded on all sides by natural wonders that are beyond the strength and understanding of the termite-city folk. By placing meaningless torches along the path, some ordinary person hopes to reach this "outpost" in blissful ignorance, without looking to the left or right. Because there, they will see sights that can deprive them of peace and sleep for the rest of their lives.
Such a life attracts a certain type of person. Lumberjacks, hunters, gatherers, craftsmen, warriors, and sorcerers. In our time, they have acquired new tools and titles, trading the knowledge of the ancients for modern innovations. This is sad, it is wrong. However, the spirit of the Baldrian remains unchanged. You can't fool a person who hears the howl of wolves and the creak of black oak behind the window every night. Their heart will always prevail.
But unfortunately, this is not true for everyone. Many here have their own difficult baggage, and nature constantly challenges them. Not everyone copes with this well. Some prefer to ignore their burden, while others fall into despair. The spirit of the Baldrian, its personal code, rather disapproves of the idea of sharing someone else's burden. Everyone understands that a shared burden only gives the other person temporary relief and does not disappear. A person must accept all their emotional wounds and find strength within themselves first, in order to overcome its weight. Then they will not only realize their place in life, nature, and Baldr itself, but will also be able to discern the path among the leaves that will lead them.
Some of those whose burden has broken their back try to find their happiness outside this border town. They try to convince themselves that they have found a brighter, warmer place. That in the deceptive bleating of the herd, they will be able to drown out the cry of horror from their own existence. But the spirit of Baldr remains in a person forever, once it has been within them. The all-consuming, alluring call of the last border between the incomprehensible, but attractively true, and the comforting, but false. Deep down, this person will always feel a newfound emptiness that they did not have before they met Baldr. In the end, they will always return here.
My personal wish for all the inhabitants of Baldr: realize yourselves in being. Understand that you are in the most advantageous position. Baldr is not a lonely hut in the middle of a menacing dark forest, where only the fiercest survives, nor is it a henhouse, packed to the brim with clucking hens pecking at grain from a trough, while they lay eggs.
Baldr is a place where everyone is given a choice, an opportunity, a bow and spear, a sickle and hammer, a pen and a pie, work and glory. It was carved out in the middle of a hostile wilderness by the efforts of brave and free people. And it nurtures this spirit. Soon, the champions of false values from the cozy confines of settled territory will clash and tear each other's throats, as they have done since time immemorial. And only Baldr and similar rare places will be able to stand and maintain their dignity. Do not be deceived! The true future lies with you.