Late in the month of Severin, Sapience sensed a disturbance writ upon their skies. For weeks, cities questioned the source of such anomalies, stirring discussions far and wide as to the potential danger posed by such phenomena. Myriad theories sprouted from the fertile soil that is imagination, including worries of a weapon known as ‘the Realmcleaver’, the potential return of the First Flame or Mother Shadow, or even the baleful potential for apocalypse. As the weeks carried on, these portentous happenings only intensified, commandeering the skies in fantastic displays of silver and gold, and lucent starshine lighting up night and day alike.
Desperate to seek the truth of the matter, the Hammer of Dawn assembled a search for answers. In an excursion to the Free City of Delve, a majority of the city met with Hruan, Guardian of the Halls of Accord. Unable to speak for the source of these fantastic displays of power, the priest simply insisted that he had no idea what god of the Eschaton’s eidetic pantheon could possibly be responsible for such brilliant displays that reached even as far as the forbidding, eastern continent known as Albedos.
While this search was ultimately fruitless, the priest bid them good luck in their search, offering them the blessings of the Child as he saw them on their way out of the Pious Wards.
In Spinesreach, the Director of Shadows sought out an appropriate apparatus to examine the skies from a proper vantage point. Homing in on the wintry, welkin canvas, the sly Syssin spotted further, more miniature manifestations of cosmic power, though he could not capture a glimpse of their originators. Others in the Theocracy and the Sanguine Fist alike sought to dissect rojalli after hearsay circulated through Sapience’s taverns that they were at the heart of a dangerous plot driven by skulduggery and espionage.
Though their results were inconclusive or mundane, the city endeavored forward, seeking answers in the name of their individual city-states, including a solution to the terrifying whispers of an elite cadre of shadowbound Gnomes.
As the trouble intensified, reports of spontaneous gouts of lava in Moghedu and even the sanctuary of Nirvana were filed throughout the world, heralding a deepening of worry throughout the realm. A nameless Dwarven drunk saw to warning the world of impending catastrophe, though his malodorous stench saw his efforts dashed upon the rocks of social acceptability, leaving the world unprepared for what laid ahead.
As the other city states set to their own theories and attempts to unravel the confounding mystery, gossip ran rampant. Rumour abounded. Realmcleaver gained countless new names. Speculation reached heights of absurdity rarely seen in the modern era. Most felt it was an overreaction.
Then, the first of Arios came. And the sky broke apart.
Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 1st of Arios, in the year 511 MA.