Campaign Prologue

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Campaign Prologue

Postby Mr_Praetorian » Wed Jan 14, 2009 5:27 am

The Arcane Catastrophe: A Prologue to Slaughter

The world of Eldir-roth, was not always the blasted and seared hulk of earth and sea that it is today. Not but two decades ago, the entirety of the population was as alive as any planet, and it would have been so populated if not for one of the most driving and influential forces in all of the known realms: Greed.

Lord Tiranoi, of Tiranaea, had spent the last millennia forging himself humanity’s greatest achievement of the age: A massive empire, forged from equal parts ingenuity and raw arcane power, that sat upon a continent that he, himself, had designed and formed. A civilization, that owed its very sense of being and purpose to him. Yet, despite all that he accomplished, this was not enough for the Lord.

Tiranoi did not wish to be merely a King, nor a master Architect, He sought to be both, in the greatest meaning of such: He sought be a God. He knew that despite the magical power flowing through him, his days were growing short, and that if he wished to acquire the power he sought, he would need to act quickly. Few live who can truly speculate whether it was arrogance, trickery, or pure madness that drove the Lord to believe he could trick a God long enough to bind it, and absorb its power, especially a God of magic. Yet, with no one else near powerful enough to try and stop him, Lord Tiranoi proceeded to form his master plan for ascension

Over the course of the next year, Lord Tiranoi worked near tirelessly to perfect his binding ritual. The incantation itself would be performed in the Great Cathedral, a massive complex in the very center of his empire. All magical energy that allowed the empire to function flowed through the four massive conductor towers that eternally rotated around the basilica. It would be here that Lord Tiranoi would bind the Arcane Avatar, complete his legacy, and virtually guarantee that his conquest of the world would go quickly and smoothly. Yet, as the world would soon discover, it was clearly not meant to be so.

At the dawn of the day that would never be forgotten, Lord Tiranoi and his closest advisers began to channel arcane energy into the most powerful ritual ever conceived by mortal hands. The conductor towers began to swing around the basilica, and great storms formed in the skies ahead. For those outside in the great towers that surrounded the complex, they could only speculate that something of great importance was about to take place.

As the ritual continued, the towers continued to spin faster, and draw in more energy. Within seconds, the pull of magic could felt throughout the city, and continued on. It was not long before those who dwelled in Empyrion could begin to feel the pull of magic. For them, it was like nothing they had ever felt before. It was as though the life of the world was being pulled away from them. Regardless of where they were, the people of the world turned to the horizon, pondering what destiny was being forged for them.

By now most of the preliminary spell expenditures had been completed, and those in the chamber were focusing on what their Lord was doing. Outside, the four towers were spinning so fast that they were beginning to pull anything nearby towards them. Towers and objects nearby began to buckle, and many of their occupants attempted to rush to safety, only to be pulled into the growing vortex of arcane power. Already, hundreds of thousands of lives had been lost, and ritual was barely getting started.

As the rest of the world began to feel arcane energy seemingly sucked away, Lord Tiranoi moved on to the second part of the ritual, the summoning. The Lord moved himself to the central platform of the basilica, and began the invocation that would call forth the Avatar itself. Whether it was for fortune or misfortune, he was half successful.

A strange presence filled the inner chambers, as a brilliant white light washed over those present. This presence felt neither alien nor normal, it was something else. Lord Tiranoi had made contact with the Divine Consciousness, a collective of minds of and feelings that guided the universe much in the fashion that most believed the Gods did. For a solid 3 seconds, Lord Tiranoi knew everything that had happened, was happening, and would happen in this dimension, assuming no extra-dimensional influences. Then, his mind and soul were absorbed.

Despite whatever bliss he may have known, the repercussions of his absence during the ritual would be devastating. With no controller to manage the flow of arcane energy into the conductors, the ritual that held the magic together dissolved, and the entirety of the arcane energy that had been used was released in an instant.

First, a great beam of energy short forth into the sky, destroying an entire planet as the energy caused the core to detonate. The ground shook and tore itself asunder as great storms formed all across Eldir-roth. Then, in a terrifying blast, the basilica exploded, instantly vaporizing everything within ten miles, and unleashing a wall of arcane fire several hundred feet in height. This wave of destruction would continue to spread over the continent, across the sea, and short out just as his hit the main land of the next continents. In its wake, a wall of fire and debris continued its path of destruction, tearing apart earth and civilization alike in it’s a wake. This wave of destruction would make it to the end of those continents, and give way to the massive walls of water that would slam into the sides of Empyrion several minutes later.

A chilling calm would descend in the aftermath of the destruction. Almost 75% of the world’s population had been cleansed in matter of minutes, and wild magic zones continued to spring up all across the world, as a great maelstrom kicked up in the areas that had been hit by the bulk of the blast. All contact beyond Empyrion ceased, and it would not be a full year until Arcane Magic would begin to function normally again.

Beyond the destruction caused by the Arcane Catastrophe itself (including one of the conductor towers obliterating the Silmarani capital), most of the remaining nations fell into depressions, as confidence in life continuing in general seemed to be in short supply. The next two decades would be days of stagnated technology, and general despair. There was but one ray of hope, in that the Druids were able to keep the debris and smoke from clouding the skies of Empyrion with their powerful druidic magic.

Twenty years after the Arcane Catastrophe had befallen the world, the first signs that the earth had began to mend arrived. The great cloak of smoke that had blotted out the sun over most of the planet reseeded, and the terrible maelstrom subsided. For the first time in a human generation, a beacon of hope had arrived. Yet, as many would learn, the two decades of depression and civil strife would not yield a people who would seek peace. The horns of war had begun to sound, and already a great power had begun to rise in the South.

Even with all of its might, students of history will no doubt realize that this threat shall be only one of many to threaten the world in the days to come.

So begins the War of Lords…
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