Update 4: 1500 A.C. - 1600 A.C.
The Long Winter. The Age of Ice. Krosss Triumph.
It had many names, this period of unparalleled hardship and death. In those grim years, the First Sun limped over the horizon for a short while, before dipping below in haste. Thick clouds laden with snow masked his flight, his presence only revealed by a pale light barely piercing the cloud cover. Such light offered no warmth or comfort for those below, who toiled and struggled whilst under assault by the elements. Winter crept through the woods, starving out wild game. It raced over the fields, freezing the soil. Finally, it approached the homes of mortals, clawing at the doors. At the windows. At their throats. At their stomachs. At their minds.
Old champions of justice and retribution followed these grim conditions. Giants; punishers of Vash, old allies against the dragons and the decadence of Vasheroth. Men and women of the river valleys of the south welcomed them with gifts and open arms, but the people of the northern woods knew all too well what was happening. Northerners knew the centurys previous visit had been a rare exception. The giants had restrained themselves, focused on the destruction of Vasheth in the presence of their creator Kross. But the giants were not blind; they saw the wealth of the southerners. How numerous they were. How they shrank before the presence of Kross. Now the world had changed to their liking, and lesser men continued to shrink as the giants waxed in might.
The aforementioned northerners bent the knee quietly, knowing that their numbers were too few to withstand the giants. Some fled to the Temple of Fuku, which had fallen into a state of disrepair and decay. It served refugees well; older giants recalled the power of a spiteful adherent to Fuku and restrained the more eager invaders from putting the temple to the sword. Those unwilling or unable to take up refuge in that grim edifice offered what little tribute they could, expecting the usual lip service and offerings to remove the invaders. For the most part it was true
but the giants continued south, to the northerners confusion. More disconcerting was the flood of settlers that poured in from the northern wastes and wilds. It wasnt just a series of conquests. It was a migration.
As the massive invaders continued south, resistance became even less intense, giving the giants more momentum. Cities opened their gates and hailed the giants as old friends, unaware of the danger outside the walls. Many a ruler found themselves pressured into giving lands to the giants, followed quickly by exclusive rights, and before finally being replaced by them. Honoring the old alliances became a popular pretext for these actions; had not the giants fought and bled for the rest of the world? Stretching all the way from the Krossing to the Font of Yagna, lesser men found themselves under the rule of these old allies. Some giants even attempted to cross the sea and enter the Bay of Lapis, before visiting the rich lands of the Amaranthine Empire. Instead, rumors of crystalline spears and sparkling legions hurling the invaders back into the sea had been heard, although many just chalked it up to a freak storm and the ramblings of some survivors.
Truth be told, the Amaranthine Empire had little difficulty repelling the rag-tag band of giants who had rowed their way onto its shores. Expecting easy conquest, the giants were sorely mistaken when they saw a land largely operating as it had in the past. Beautiful trees, made of crystal and bearing delicious fruit, continued to sustain the granaries and people of the empire. Soldiers enforcing the laws and decrees coming from the Amaranthinium quickly discovered the interlopers, determined their intent, and set about detaining them. Those that could not be brought back to the capital fled into the mountains, creating crude mountain hide-outs.
Other new arrivals were less troublesome, as more and more men sought the prosperous shores of the Amaranthine Empire. With these migrants came rumors of a world not quite as fortunate as those that toiled in the shadow of the Amaranthinium. Men clung to the sprites of Nyubar, creating islands of security and shelter amidst a sea of hardship. Even these havens were no guarantee of survival; mortals spilled blood to control those blessed sites. The Font of Yagna continued to flow, but so many made the pilgrimage to that holy place that throngs of mortals crowded around it at all hours. Men died of thirst mere moments away from tasting its waters, arms outstretched in desperation.
Not all words were laden with tales of death. Some grumbled that Vash, the supposed Usurper and great enemy of all righteous gods, had been seen assisting and saving mere mortals at random. Entire settlements owed their existence to Vashs guidance, pre-empting horrific disasters or preparing mortals for particularly horrible storms. Many began to doubt what they had heard about the Godslayer. The Three had been seen as the righteous party in that distant conflict, yet was it not one of the Three that now cursed the world with unending cold? Now Vash was heard once more, after centuries of silence, with promises of spring, helping those few mortals that would listen to him get through the trials ahead. Of course the stalwart followers of several gods dismissed these claims. Vash was the Usurper. The crafty Changer. He could not be trusted.
In these most desperate of days, the god Rios gave the gift of eccentricity and mad genius to a select few individuals, blessing them with visions of gears and filigree. Of flesh turned metallic. These few geniuses, eager to rip their visions from their skulls and into the world, set about crafting artificial limbs for those who might need them. In some cases, no available subjects could be found. In those instances, certain
measures were taken to change those circumstances. The craft became known for its duality; the brutality and grisly nature surrounding the actual procedures, and the beauty and utility of the finished product. These limbs became especially popular among those that were subject to frostbite; some diehard explorers found all of their limbs replaced, no longer having to fear the bite of winter on their extremities.
The gods looked at these deplorable conditions and the desperate lengths mortals were going through to survive. Self-mutilation and limb replacement aside, mortals did what they could to retain both their livelihood and their health. The jungles of Vasheroth and of the Alari were battered by unending storms brought on by the abnormal weather, but suffered not the constant snowfall of other regions, and so became desirable locations for those willing to brave the dangers of the jungle. The Woods of Many Minds attracted many for its lack of snowfall, and distant wanderers disregarded the warnings of locals. Villages uprooted themselves and were dead set on eking out an existence just outside the Woods. Some brave souls dared to trek further north, but were never seen again by their loved ones in any recognizable form. Wisps were seen here and there, and the Order of Many Minds made good use of the confusion caused by the constant migrations.
Beneath the waves, even the usually unified Typhans found themselves at odds with one another. Local rulers had begun emulating the martial prowess of Harika, styling themselves as great warriors and leaders of armies. Militias were formed and drilled endlessly, although actual duties remained mainly ceremonial. But with no end to winter in sight, prime harvesting waters became battlegrounds, and for the first time the Typhan armies engaged in large full-blown war Their corpses washed up on the shores of the world, grim reminders of a world beneath the waves. A world whose struggles mirrored those of the terrestrials.
Throughout it all, Kross watched from his icy realm in the north. The dominance of his followers. Fields lying fallow. Corpses frozen in the wilderness. Mortals huddled in strange lands, clinging to dear life. He pitied them, and knew he was at least partially to blame for their suffering. It was his energy that pulsed through the ley-network. Krosss vision of a snow-covered paradise, a world made suitable for him.
He had to give it up.
The titan of ice began to strain, attempting to bend all the cold of the world to his will. It was a task as difficult and inconceivable as counting the drops of water in the ocean, Kross knew he could not account for every last bit of power that had been dispersed into the world. But he could make it far more manageable. Planting his feet into the frozen ground, Kross erected a pillar of pure ice out of the ground, and then drove it through the earth. Again he strained, this time against the fabric of creation itself. Giants reported hearing the titan cracking under the pressure of this great labor. Yet Kross continued, wrenching at the ground beneath him and roaring. When he was finished, the world looked no different. No scholar could quite put their finger on it. Yet everyone felt it, from the shunned penguinfolk to the proudest dragon. Something had changed aside from the creation of the poles. Kross looked upon the world once more, satisfied.
The cold began to retreat. Vash proclaimed that he would assume the burden of Krosss energy that had been dispersed in the ley-network, at least partially. Reactions were mixed; had the Godslayer seen the error of his ways and done something to rectify the situation? Perhaps this was just a truly good deed? Others pointed that this was not the first time Vash had taken it upon himself to leech off of another gods strength. Nevertheless, Vashs proclamation coincided with a hastened end to winter in some areas. Naysayers were quick to decry the Godslayer, but welcomed the change regardless of its source.
Yet the First Sun still hung low in the sky, his warmth unable to fill the void left behind by the cold. Celebrations of winters retreat were cut short by the sobering realization that Tai continued to drift in an erratic path, his dim light providing barely enough sustenance for the hardiest of crops. A lukewarm world, robbed of its former glory. It was in these days that Nyubar unveiled a marvelous work, unrivaled by mortal hands and held in wonder by mortals and gods alike.
Mixing the blood of the wounded First Sun with sap from the Mother Sprite, Nyubar created seven amber spheres infused with both the life-giving energy of the Mother Sprite, as well as the radiance of the First Sun. Nyubar then stood before the Gates, blessing the spheres with life of their own. These would become the Seven Amber Suns, blazing discs set into beautiful tiaras and borne into the heavens by the Sunbearers. The Sunbearers themselves were Chromarchs, Chromakin, and Chromatai of various hues and shades, guiding Tai and assisting him in his duties, bathing the world once more in his brilliant light.
Resigned to the fact that a world plunged in winter was not particularly popular or feasible, Kross still salvaged some select portions of this bygone age. Into a select few mortals he coalesced massive amounts of his energy, bringing to their minds a cold and calculating aspect. The change was more than purely behavioral; these mortals found themselves able to manipulate the world with their minds, not unlike the mages of Vash or the basic telekinetic powers of the Chromarchs. These mind-mages powers were also punctuated by drops in temperature around them; a dead giveaway of Krosss blessing. Preferring to dwell in solitude, these mind-mages more often than not took up residence on mountaintops, enjoying the silence and solitude required to hone their newfound powers.
Other followers of Kross were not so lucky; the frost giants began to panic as the Seven Amber Suns took their place in the heavens. Just as the North Star had been a powerful symbol for the northern invaders-turned-rulers, now the Seven Suns served as a symbol of resistance against their rule. Some giants found themselves changed by the shifting climate; they no longer needed the cold to sustain themselves. They shrank with each generation, but at least held onto the reins of power where they could. The remaining frost giants were forced to retreat to the north after a series of bloody rebellions, these icy rulers unable to remain on the field of battle under the oppressive suns. The Long Winter had finally come to an end.
To commemorate this triumph, Nyubar set about taking two cuttings from the Mother Sprite and planting one at the Amaranthinium, as well as one near the old site of the Eye of Vash. In time, these sprites would grow to astonishing heights, filling the surrounding lands with sprites of their own. The Amaranthine Empire continued to prosper under such benevolence, and Nyubar joined Tai, Fuku, and Statute among the patron gods of the Empire. Solidifying Nyubars status was the gifting of the Silver Chalice to Statute. The Silver Chalice had been the vessel of both Tais blood and the sap from the Mother Sprite, radiating a life-giving warmth to all around it.
In Vasheroth, the scion of the Mother Sprite came under close study by mages and dragons alike. The life giving properties of the sprites made them potent ingredients for potions and alchemy, and it was rumored that when mixed with one of Yagnas Petals (another plant hailed for its restorative properties), a true elixir of immortality could be achieved. The hunt for such a concoction became increasingly important to many, as the first recorded death of a dragon by natural causes occurred. Long thought to live forever if left to their own devices, most dragons had simply perished in previous calamities and wars. In Arakis, an old dragonlord finally shut his eyes for the last time, his scales turning to stone and the fire within him extinguished. Dragonlords from across creation soon began racing to collect sprites, ripping them out of the ground for experimentation, while the key ingredient, the Petal of Yagna, remained incredibly rare.
Continuing the trend of gift giving, Tai bestowed upon Nyubar the Leyloom, an artifact that allows the bearer to see the ley-network and manipulate it to some degree. While somewhat awkward to handle and not giving the wielder the proficiency of say, the ley-networks creator, the Leyloom allowed Nyubar to pour his own energy into the network. Outside influences soon found themselves even harder pressed to breach the snare between worlds; in these days the night terrors of Rula-Sorna had become a thing of myth, and Nitals followers performed rituals blindly without the guidance of their lord. Such nefarious influences found themselves funneled straight to the Amaranthinium, a suitable prison for such forces.
Tai also gifts Statute the Imprisoner; a massive warhammer that immobilizes the guilty and saps their strength, even without direct contact with the legendary weapon. The Chalice and the Imprisoner become symbols of Statutes promised prosperity, order, and justice. The Amaranthine Empires numbers swelled as peace and order ruled the land. Legions equipped with weapons of dazzling crystal patrolled its borders, quickly stomping out any traces of lawlessness or intrusion. Evaluating the realm as sufficiently secure, these legions ventured forth, seeking to bring order to lands outside of the Empires traditional borders. Having conquered almost the entire island, some legions even braved the seas in order to bring the rule of Statute to mainlanders. Such efforts were viewed as a positive alternative to the brutish rule of the giants, although many of Nyubars followers wondered how closely the legions would venture towards the Citadel.
Fears over a possible conflict between the two gods were largely assuaged by the formation of the Order of the Adamant. Dedicated to combatting the remaining evils in the world, the Order of the Adamant was blessed by Nyubar and Statute, while sometimes armed with weapons from the Celestial Citadel. Rumored to have one foot outside the Gate, the Order of the Adamant were blessed with immortality, yet also had the ability to retire from the mortal world and pass on when they considered their duties fulfilled or burdens too great. This intrinsic link to life and death made the Order adept at identifying those husks and corpses masquerading as living folk. The Order quickly built up a network of contacts, strongholds, and bases across creation, aiding them in the eradication of evil and the pacification of spirits.
The civilized world was not the only one to experience a rejuvenation following the end of the Long Winter. Legend has it that Fusta had hid away in the few remaining jungles of the world, dancing slowly and mournfully during the bitter winter. With the arrival of spring, the bride of Fuku danced in the wilderness with renewed energy and glee. Such was her overwhelming happiness that her revelry created a new race of forest-dwelling humanoids, known as nymphs. Joining these celebrations were the Alari, who had become disillusioned with the relatively quiet Yagna in the past few decades. This ironically placed Fusta and Fuku on opposite ends of the conflict which raged in the renewed jungles of the south. The Alari considered Fusta a patron of justice in the wild, while adherents to the old ways of Fuku continued to defend their ancestral lands from these interlopers.
Fighting between the Typhans managed to subside with a return to normalcy and the restocking of fishing waters. Harvests became plentiful once more, and old divisions largely disappeared between the various Typhan realms. The scars of the wars did not heal fully though; the trauma of such struggles gave rise to a few Typhans-turned-Yinshung, an occurrence that had until that moment remained almost entirely theoretical. These incredibly powerful beings could command the currents themselves, and oftentimes became notorious for harboring old grudges birthed during the Long Winter. As a Yinshung of any kind is almost impossible to dissuade, and these few in particular threatened the stability of the realm, many had to go into hiding after becoming targets of persecution. Harika still saw their strength as admirable and worthy of imitation; those land-dwellers that chose to worship Harika found themselves able to tap into a similar sort of strength. The tides and waters of the world bent to their will, although only after considerable practice and focus.
Even the accursed lands in the west experienced some degree of calm. Onoqu found itself prosperous and largely ignored by the Onoqui, who themselves had simply fled to warmer climes. While the rest of the world still viewed Onoqu has a haven for depraved blood cultists, the common man within the region was no more malevolent than in any other land, and the horrific rituals that plagued the countryside had subsided considerably. Massive castles and keeps were constructed, rulers apparently eager to defend this rare moment of peace and prosperity. Surrounding river valleys made similar efforts; if things had finally turned around for the better, they would do everything in their power to keep in that way.
A world filled with mortals no longer just barely scraping by meant a world with free time. A world ready for mischief. Thus, Rios began reconstruction of his portals, even going so far as to distribute cryptic maps and charts to help his chosen navigate the convoluted network that meandered through time and space. Meanwhile, the mages on Ataraka finally managed to reactivate their portal, the process no doubt expedited by Rioss resurgence in activity. Soon all over creation, zealous mages praising Vash began to crop up, seemingly unaware of the changing times. Those that requested directions to Vasheth found themselves laughed out of town, while others were persecuted for their open devotion to the Godslayer. Mages adept at manipulating the portals quickly returned to their remote island home with news of a world hostile to their glorious god.
Kross gave his own blessing to the mortals, either out of guilt or out of pity that they continued to be used as playthings, even after the end of the Long Winter. Thus Kross blessed his favored followers, mankind and the various giants of the world, giving them a natural resistance towards the machinations of the gods. Just has Nyubar had given mortals the extra grit to resist the hardships of the physical world, Kross now gave his chosen the strength to hold out against the supernatural. While certainly not suddenly resistant to dragonfire or the direct influence of a god, men and giants found themselves less likely to bound by mortal magic. Spells failed with greater frequency, and novices could expect their curses to break at the slightest interruption.
For decades this new age continued uninterrupted, punctuated by bountiful harvests, peace, and blessings from the gods. But underneath the surface, misgivings and foreboding signs worried both the mortal and the divine.
The strange shapes continued to hover in the air, and in their shadows came dreams. Alien emotions and thoughts filled the heads of those that slept underneath the shapes. Geometries impossible to fathom in the waking world flowed endlessly in the depths of those slumbering minds. The giants saw glaciers slowly contort themselves into similar forms as the floating masses hovered overhead. Some peoples took to following those strange shapes, seeking to emulate them through monuments or etchings. Carved offerings of wood and stone were hurled into fires, only to have the flames mirror the shape of that which had been offered. Beneath the waves, Typhans remarked on the changing currents. They became predictable, almost disturbingly so.
Other strange visions visited mortals. A vast museum, accompanied by a massive library. Dreamers walked its hallways and perused its endless collection of tomes, confident that such a place did not exist in the real world. Strange cloaked figures patrolled those halls, possessing extra limbs and a penchant for neatness. The figures would largely ignore the dreamers, instead taking on the daunting task of maintaining the librarys pristine condition. And of course, the figure in grey, always willing to share its thoughts on the given subject matter of a tome or scribbling the dreamer had examined.
The dreamers felt no hunger. No pain. They certainly did not feel tired, since they were already asleep. For some, it felted like days in those halls. Others swore upon awakening that they had visited another world entirely, spending over a lifetime diving into an ocean of literature. Children completely unexposed to any form of written language emerged fully literate and wise beyond their years, while some dreamers simply went mad at being withdrawn from such a world. They pleaded to go back, to sleep forever and dwell in a hidden paradise of unfinished tales and untold knowledge.
One such unfinished tale was that of Takamu, one of the old heroes of the War of the Three. Assumed to be long since dead, his sword was of primary concern to the machinations of both gods and man alike. Yet none could find a trace of Tais old champion, nor of the coveted Terminator. Nightbringer and Daybreaker had been accounted for
at least for a time. Nightbringer continued to change hands in the wars between the Alari and the various tribes of men in the southern jungles, while Daybreaker was now an heirloom of the Brightskin tribes. Yet reports told of a child possessing golden eyes and a strange walking stick, having been spotted both areas. Shortly afterwards, the iconic swords had gone missing.
And so it began once more.
Nyubar has mostly taken the spotlight in regards to fertility and growth, while Fusta leads your Alari astray in the wilds. Still, you have a highly concentrated number of followers around the Font, and you could spring back in time. NEW TOTAL: 1/2
