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Grass withers, crops wilt, water grows stagnant, insects swarm. The ground grows dry, dusty and cracked. Even the sea does not sparkle beneath the rays of the sun. A foul fog rolls in at daybreak and lingers far into the day with no winds to dispel it. Fish wash up on the shore. ships sail painfully slow, as their sails struggle to catch what remains of the winds that once gave the kingdoms their name. The heavens sit empty and silent. The totem spirits sleep in a seemingly eternal slumber. Messengers of the heavens struggle to keep the magic flowing, but this world was not created to sit and fester without the currents of change. The citizens of every nation are all but hopeless. The creative spark in their eyes has been nearly extinguished entirely. Dutifully carrying out their appointed tasks and struggling to take up the slack of an entirely absent deity and dream weaver. Ancient seals seep foul magic, weakening the fabric of reality and sapping away the remaining magic in the land and water. The dark whispers have already started to those who are sensitive to them. A chorus of mad voices, old and powerful entities locked away and forgotten under the complacency of a watchful divine eye are now unchecked and straining against the weakening bars of their prisons. We deny the reality and carry on with our lives. But the kingdoms are precariously perched on the brink of several sources of disaster. Some locked within the very walls of our cities. We have far more powerful enemies than we have powerful allies of times past. Denied access to the next steps on the stairway to power and ascendance, we are not properly armed for the coming catastrophe. Promises broken, duties neglected. What act of mortals caused us to become forsaken by the creators, I do not know. However. The people of these lands will not give up. There are other sources of power. Other methods of denying the satisfaction of a cruel fate. We can create our own god. We can summon our own powerful allies. We can release those sealed away who have powers beyond the abilities of mortals. Someone ancient, who was once mortal, and the source of all of our mortal magic. Someone less inclined to destroy and enslave us like the others that will soon be free and falling over each other to destroy us and our kingdoms. There are eight glowing runes marking the seal that hides away the tomb of ChiZao, in the center of Vortex. We helped the totem spirits strengthen their pillars and return him to his slumber when he was awoken by Nagnag and went on a rampage of revenge. The totem spirits sealed away their master, and now they sleep when we need them most. The ancient mage was much more willing to talk than many of the other evils that we have fought and sealed in the past. His power, and the extremely powerful runes found in his tombs, in the hands of the strongest mortals, would give us a fighting chance. Destroy the seal. Destroy the pillars. Destroy the very altars of the totem spirits, if need be, and even the spirits themselves if they stand in the way. Soak the entrance of the tomb in Angel's tears. Bring forth the source that will renew the magic and stir the winds of the kingdoms once again. This land will not fall and burn without a fight. No matter what sacrifices must be made. There will be a war.. The likes of which the gods will not be able to ignore, no matter how hard they try. | |