"...What if I were to give the Finite Races a second chance by bringing the Wyrms back into our world? The arch of history will once more twist in Mortality's favor and the fate of this word will be forged anew. All requiring an equal portion of bloodshed, of course."
- Final Testament of A Hero
As the Order of Wizardry scattered and dispersed, tensions between nations would rise as the question was asked: who would claim the land of the dead nation? Algos, Necrotus, and even Ban-Rock-Buren would lay their own claims upon it, vying to expand their territories. Algos would say how the land was once theirs, and so it should return to them now that the Order of Wizardry is no more. Necrotus, as a center of magic second only to the Order of Wizardry, would claim that they academic provinces than now speckled the area were most closely in line with the ideals of Necrotus. Ban-Rock-Buren, already having the distant Ge'Nash splinter colony of Bharudregh bordering the Order of Wizardry would lay claim to it over proximity.
Nonetheless, the Treaty of Koldos would hold back any outward agression for the time between Algos and Necrotus, while the leaders of Ban-Rock-Buren were at least wise enough to understand that facing either Algos or Necrotus would be suicide. But the sanctity of the treaty was waning, its date of revision creeping ever closer. Would the nations truly uphold the intention of the document, renewing it when the time came? Only time would tell as relations became uneasy between the three nations hoping to gain a larger foothold on the Wraith Globe. In the place where the borders of Algos, Necrotus, and Ban-Rock-Buren converged, this unease would be at its highest. There, within the Triplici Point, an unlikely story would unfold and a meticulous plot would be unravelled.
Strange phenomena would begin to occur surrounding the small Algorian fishing town of Lirean, their livelihood the nearby Lake of the Helm drying up and becoming ephemeral. A group of adventurers' would carry out investigations on behalf of the town's guild, the Silver Cloaks, but what they would find would set in motion a struggle between a hero of old and heroes of new. Beneath the lake was a system of tunnels which housed the young Dragon Vorsorus, an accomplice to a much larger scheme. Within Ban-Rock-Buren near the Triplici point lay a fortress, the abode of one of the last surviving supporters of Erṣetu: Ugal the Last Lightning.
All of this pointed to a greater plot, a grander design. In truth, neither the magic of the Mount of Eternal Slumber nor Hedera's last call to lure Dragonkind to Corevia had been perfectly effective. The Dragons left behind, including Erṣetu herself, would plot and scheme to awaken their kind trapped within Corevia, bringing about a second Tyranny of Dragons. And yet the Dragonborn of Corevia were vigilant, and so the followers of Erṣetu would have to find another way in. The help they needed would come from the most unlikely place of all, from Ahra Katash, the First Dragonslayer.
In her fateful duel against the Primordial Warlord, Katash had not perished. Amidst the shrouded wreckage she would escape mortally wounded, nursing herself back to health in the coming weeks. But her vow to never return to her people until the death of Erṣetu remained, as so she stood back, watching the campaign against dragonkind from a distance. Erṣetu would flee to Viabaas' Ring, and Katash would have no way of following her, sealing her fate as hermit vowed to solitude. None would know that the First Dragonslayer lived as the Treaty of Koldos was signed and the great pilgirmages across the sea began, and yet there was a sour taste left in Ahra's mouth. She looked out upon the growth of the Finite Races, and she believed that nothing had changed. Nations were rebuilt as they once were. She could see the possibilities of cracks forming in the treaty that the Mortal Races clinged to so tightly. She was bitter that despite all she had accomplished, the world had returned to exactly how it had been before. Adversity had not sharpened her peoples as she hoped it would. With that, Ahra Katash became the second Mortal to begin Irly's Trek, for Ahra had been one of the only friends who Fenirthir had trusted enough to share her secret. After years of seafaring and solitude, The Firedrake Queen would return to the central continent with a sash of dull green scales around her waist.
With time no longer her concern, Katash would ruminate, attempting to discern a way to give the Finite Races a second chance at redemption. Slowly but steadily, an idea would creep into her mind, a dangerous and infectious idea. She had heard tell of a tome of immense power, a tome capable of altering timelines: The Tome of Prospects. With such a tome and the proper ritual, perhaps the world could be returned the Tyranny of Dragons so that the Mortals would once again have the freedom to overcome immense adversity and grow from it. In Ahra's mind, it would be a second chance at salvation.
With this intent planted firmly in her mind, she would seek out Dragonkind across the Wraith Globe, hiding her identity with a shamanic bone mask and a deep scarlet cloak. She would offer her help to the remnants of Dragonkind, explaining how the Tome of Prospects could be used but not elaborating on her true motivation. From then onwards she would act as puppetmaster to both Mortals and Dragons, securing information regarding the Tome of Prospects and securing a path into the dutifully watched isle of Corevia. From across the Wraith Globe, a new coalition of Dragonkind would be born: The Order of The Chaos Scar.
The Fall of An Old Hero
"No legacy remains untarnished or unbroken against the test of time. For every mend to its frame, ten cracks will form elsewhere. Such is the nature of the world."
- The Least of These
With her allies gathered,Ahra Katash would begin to put pieces in place for a heist spanning the entire Material Plane, beginning in the Triplici Point. Within the Ban-Rock-Buren border of this region lay the old fortress of Ugal the Last Lightning, one of the old Dragonborn allies of Erṣetu. With Ugal's portal to the Infinite Stairway would come Dragons that had been scattered across the planes, and with the help of a rich sympathizer in the area, one such Wyrm would be positioned meticulously amidst the royalty of the Nation of Algos.
As the fifth age waned, Fenirthir Irly and her trusted husband Lunare would fade into obscurity as to not rouse suspicion of their unnaturally long age. Their descednats would take their place, eventually learning the family secret and disappearing just as their elders had, escaping to a secluded corner of the world to live their immortality in blissful anonymity. During this time the grandson of Fenirthir Irly, Tarkas Irly, would take the throne of Algos, but young Tarkas would have many weaknesses. He would take particular liking to the effectiveness of Algorian adventuring guilds, praising them for their versatility. A number of incredibly rich guilds would flourish in Vuekson because of this, but none would be more distinguished than the Chaos Shrouds. An up and coming group of highly effective assassins and tricksters, this guild would act as a cover for Dragonkind.
Ugal's benefactor would secure a path directly to the Tonth family, the prestigious Algorian family that had intermarried with the Irlys. The young woman Irlin Tonth would be discretely replaced a great Dragon adept at shapeshifting and trickery: Irlinon, a great ploychromatic Wyrm born from Erṣetu herself. The Order of the Chaos Scar would place the disguised serpent as the head of the Chaos Shrouds, allowing Irlinon to get close to Tarkas and whisper words of power and command to him as he slept. Each day, the new ruler of Algos would unknowingly grow more distrustful towards the nation of Khazan each day, quietly mounting his forces in preparation for unprovoked war.
However, such a war would not occur yet by the grace of the Lordly Pantheon. Slowly but surely, a small group of adventurers within the Silver Cloaks guild of Lirean would find Ugal's stronghold and slowly begin to unravel Dragonkind's plot. These heroes born out of time would soon be destined by the Lordly Pantheon itself. The devious and curious among them would sail the stars and realms, just as their ancestors of phantasm did. He was known as Airel, a sorcerer of the Nephilim blood fled from his consticting family in Necrotus. The charismatic and troubled among them would receive and second chance with time, and refuse to play the game as a puppet of the pantheon instead becoming something more meaningful. They would be known as Rio Delgrae, a pact-sworn servant of the Prince of Frost turned fugitive. The pleasant and vengeful among them would make ammends with a fallen love, only to build a new love with time. He would be known as Wolfe Pathfinder, a cleric of Viabaas who carried regret after killing the thugs who had mercilessly slaughtered his wife many years past. In time a forth would join, a scoundrel destined to make ammends with a people he never knew. He would be known as Tarik, a Elf of the Underdark condemned throughout many nations of the surface world.
These four would begin to see a pattern throughout the Triplici Point, even journeying to the fortress of Ugal the Last Lightning. THere they would find his portal to the Unending Stairway and make an unlikely ally: A Wraith Hound of Mandri, the Fegnaor of Pride. This hound, named h, would be adopted by the four adventurers, yet Kashki would remain a servant to none but Mandri. Time was running short, and tensions between Algos and Khazan could snap at any moment. On the cusp of collapse, these four adventurers would be chosen to go to the capital of Algos for Tarkas Irly's anual Guild Gala, one last opportunity to prevent catastrophic war. Irlinon would reveal her true form to them on the rampants of the Irly Palace, the highest spires overlooking the beauty of Vuekson. The Finite races would manage to prevail once more, and the corpse of the great Wyrm would be smote across the side of the city.
War with Khazan was prevented, but the Order of the Chaos Scar would press forward despite the setback, they would just have to wage war on Khazan themselves. In her research, Katash had discovered that the Tome of Prospects was being kept secretly in the underground catacombs of Kragzbarg, a dedication to the vault of the late Ansulf. A war between Algos and Khazan would have provided a momunental distraction, but the First Dragonslayer was not one to shy away from a direct approach. For the first time since the fourth age, Dragonkind would race towards Kragzbarg and lay siege to it. There would be chaos in the streets, and yet the warriors of Khazan were hardened and prepared after the Tyranny of Dragon, so their line held for a time. The representatives of the SIlver Cloaks rushed to Kragzbarg to aid in the fight, but all they would find is a city in chaos. Delving into the catacombs, the Tome of Prospects was laready taken by Dragonkind. It would only be a matter of time before it was taken to the Mount of Eternal Slumber to raise Dragonkind and bring about a second Tyranny of Dragons. Nonetheless, the Silver Cloaks' aid of Khazan would prevent war between the nations of Algos and Khazan for a few more fleeting years.
Racing to the secluded isle of Corevia, the four destined by the pantheon and the entire Silver Cloaks guild would battle against Dragonkind within the Mount of Eternal Slumber, eventually reaching the mastermind herself, Ahra Katash. With bloodstone harvested from the Triplici Point and Tome of Prospects in hand, she would attempt to reason with the young heroes, explaining how the world needs the second chance she can provide. But they would not be swayed, instead slipping the tome from between Katash's fingers. the meticulous ritual would be interupted, and the world around the Mount of Eternal Slumber would crumble like that of a Lord's dream as they are about to wake.
The First Dragonslayer would duel the four amidst the chaos of Limbo itself, becoming the very antithesis of what she once fought for. With that final duel, the Firedrake queen would fall lifeless, a shade of what she was. The Wraith Globe would be restored to what it once was, but the four destined by the pantheon would return changed.
The Dream that Never Was
"The binding seal cannot be broken. It will never be broken. The visage of Artukos, the remnant of Artukos, his legacy, will never be destroyed. They cannot be destroyed."
-
With victory achieved and the legacy of the Firedrake Queen forever tarnished, the Silver Cloaks would leave the Mount of Eternal Slumber to indulge in a night of revelry and rest in the nearest inn. As the four chosen by the pantheon awoke the following morning, something had changed. Rather, someone had changed: them. After their exposure to the Tome of Prospect's unbridled power, each of the four awoke the following morning in forms their souls may have inhabited in another timeline.
Airel the sorcerous runaway would become Laura, a pirate queen of moderate renown across the cities of pilgrimage and Insunovis Territory. Tarik the lighthearted rascal would become Ayojote, a Dragonborn warrior vowed to a personal redemption of Dragonkind's shortcomings. Wolfe the troubled cleric of Viabaas would become Jaeger, the son of Wolfe never born, troubled instead by the deceit in Algos' upper class. Rio the untethered performer would become a younger self, still troubled by her frayed connections with the Prince of Frost yet blind to many of her memories. With them would journey and fifth companion, a woman of nomadic yet noble background named Sukona Izicha.
It would soon be found out that the loyalty of a Fegnaor's beast lies in its master first and foremost, as Kashki had disappeared with the precious Tome of Prospects, intending to return it to his master Madri, earning him the privileges of a most faithful hound. However, such a journey across the stars of Viabaas' Ring would not be a quick path, and so the four who would then onwards be known as the Newborn Willows would journey across the stars to find and recover the cataclysmic knowledge of the Wraith Lord. In that age and the age to come, the following song would be sung among Lordborn in their honor:
The branches fallen from the tree
Not bundled but instead left free
The winds whisper them a desperate plea
From the willow grows the Lordly
Knowing of a path to the Fey Lands and the domain of the Prince of Frost, Rio Delgrae would lead the Newborn Willows across the Bed of Roses, between the shining spires of Feyll, and through the Hyalus Wastes as they approached the tundras of the west. However, as the Newborn Willows crossed the white expanse during a terrible snowstorm they would each feel a slight gentle touch upon their back. This would be a mark of the Lady of Secrets, for she had been watching this journey since its inception. Unknown to the Newborn Willows, their companion Sukona was a Lordborn of Akina and a being dedicated to loyalty above all else. Sukona had grown quite fond of her companions, and soon her very essence of loyalty would be tested.
Upon reaching the palace of the Prince of Frost, the Newborn Willows would take a brief yet much-needed respite. Ayojote's faith in Dragonkind would be renewed by none other than Raduga the Mountain Shaker, who had become foreman of the mines udner the prince's palace during the fifth age. Rio Delgrae would once again meet with their former patron, and fallen Lordborn would strike a deal with the Mortal: all of Rio's usurpations against him would be forgiven if he invaded the domain of Akina herself and killed the Higher Lady for him. Despite the impossible task placed before them, the Newborn Willows would accept this challenge in return for Kashki's path across Viabaas' Ring. The Mortals would journey to the Mount of Truth, domain of the Lady of Secrets, and there Sukona would confront them, revealing her true nature to them. Torn between loyalty to her newfound peers and her reverence for her Lady, she would face the Mortals but hold herself back, allowing them to climb to the pinnacle of the mountain to reach Akina herself.
As lightning streaked across the clear sky, a figure clad in silver and green would descend in a throne of stone. With her milky white eyes, the Lady of Secrets would discern the Newborn Willows' intentions in a mere moment and reveal the truth to Rio. They had travelled to the Mount of Truth once before during their servitude to the prince with the same goal, but Akina had offered Rio a way out of their pact, a loophole that Rio would take. Now with Rio's memories faded, the Prince of Frost intended to test her loyalty against this same obstacle once more. Would the Mortal born out of time choose to ally themselves with or against fate? Ultimately, Rio Delgrae would choose a third option, one that even Akina herself did not think was likely. The Mortal would choose no side, instead content with the embrace of death and an escape from being a pawn to anyone. Akina would grant the Mortal's wish, and lightning would strike Rio Delgrae. However, Delgrae's soul would not return to Mozuir, but instead to a ring on their finger. This would be taken by Laura the Pirate Queen, and her astral ship would gain a soul after the conclusion of The Dream That Never Was.
The Lady of Secrets would reveal to the trio left behind that the Newborn Willows were the chosen heroes of Lordly Pantheon, elected to drive back a darkness encroaching on the Wraith Globe. Within the Far Realm, an old being was stirring, hoping to return to its home. Khraura, the Lower Lord of Chaos wished to return his realm and continue his work, and it seemed that the Fegnaor of Pride was intent on bringing the Lord back with the power of the Tome of Prospects. The motivation for such an action on the part of the fegnaor was unknown, but if Khraura were to return to the Wraith Globe, the likes of the Deck of Many Things would return with him. Strangely enough, Laura the Pirate Queen had already begun to collect the scattered remains of the last Deck of Many Things. Two souls, both driven by chaos to other worlds, grasping at fragments of esoterica... What a fitting pair.
With her dominion over doors, Akina would send the Newborn Willows to the artifical star Dolor in pursuit of the hound Kashki. Braving the four layers of birth, decay, death, and despair. Through foggy acropolises, fungal caverns, hourglass sands, and dark waters, the newborn Willows would at least find themselves in Makosa, the abode of the Wardens of Dolor. To follow Kashki further they would have to be scrutinized by the fickle judges of Dolor, but the trials would not hesitate to condemn the Mortals chosen by the Pantheon. They would narrowly escape Dolor with the guardian Tiktalak following their scent like a bloodhound. They would find brief refuge in the domain of Torat, the Lower Lord of Hospitality and a friend of Akina's. However, even the Torat's planar inn The Dancing Moon and Sun would not be safe from the nuclear flames of Tiktalak.
As one last effort, the Newborn Willows would flee into the grey fields of Hades itself, the dominion of Madri, The Fegnaor of Pride. Sneaking onboard his lumbering palace of writhing leeches, the trio would at last find Kashki, the hound who had betrayed them for his former master. Despite a second head, a gift from his master, Kashki would turn to ash against the might of the Pantheon's chosen, and they would descend into Schimbaru itself, the shattered remnants of Khraura's late domain of chaos. Within the Lord of Chaos' observatory they would find Mandri using the tome to bring back the Lord of Chaos from the beyond. Despite a harrowing fight the Fegnaor would succeed, but Khraura would not be as he remembered him. Taking the Wraith legionnaire by the throat, Khraura would hoist his meager frame into the air and rip out his heart of bloody magma. The body of Khraura had remained, but his mind had been overtaken. I had returned to the world at long last.
With all their might the Newborn Willows fought against me, but the battle was in my favor. As a final effort, the Pirate Queen dared to pull a card from the Deck of Many Things against its very creator. How ironic that the card chosen would pull on the very strings of fate themselves. The Pirate Queen would return to the very moment at which she met Kashki, slaughtering the hound in a single swing of her blade and returning to a timeline which no longer had a foundation to rest upon. Determined to end the Mortals as one last act of defiance I would rain cerulean stars down onto them, but it would all be for naught. I would awake in the Far Realm, the events that I have just described only a dream lingering in the minds of Lords and Ladies. The four Newborn Willows would return unscathed, only Laura being aware of what had transpired. Perhaps as respect to Khraura, she would sail beyond the Wraith Globe, a traveller across the realms. Wolfe Pathfinder would find solace with Sukona, falling in love once more and allowing the regrets for his previous wife to gently fade. Rio Delgrae would become two, one left to explore the world free of the Prince of Frost's bindings, and a second still trapped within the ring on the Pirate Queen's finger, destined to become the soul of a star ship.
And so the legacy of the Newborn Willows would end, their story known only to the Lordly Pantheon and the Lordborn they would share the tale with. And here I would remain, left to ponder anew the state of the world.
The Fate of the Tome of Prospects
"The Art must be kept safe, for the power to shatter mountains, dry oceans, and move the stars themselves is far too great for the likes of kings and prophets."
- Third Tenet of the Emerald Tablet
As the Order of the Chaos Scar fell a second time, the Tome of Prospects would no longer fall into the hands of Mandri. Instead, the thief Tarik would steal it during the heated duel with Ahra Katash, hoping to sell it for unimaginable wealth. However, as Tarik awoke the following morning as the Dragonborn warrior Ayojote, he would have a change of mind. Ayojote would instead keep the Tome of Prospects hidden away among the crags of the Stagnant Stones, a place only he knew of. The Dragonborn believed that such power did not belong in Mortal hands, and yet he chose not to destroy it, clinging onto the thought that such power may still be required in the future. However, such potent knowledge could not be kept hidden forever.
Ayojote would become a trusted official within the nation of Corevia after the fall of the Order of The Chaos Scar, and in time a number of enigmatic academics would approach him, inquiring about the hidden Tome of Prospects. These figures were delegates from the Order of the Art, able to discern the location of the third tome using the inherent magics present within the two tomes they already possessed. And yet the Order of The Art would not simply take the Tome of Prospects from its hiding place. They saw potential within Ayojote, a kindred spirit who also believed that the power of Artukos' tomes should not be wielded by king nor nation. Ayojote would accept their invitation to join the Order of the Art, and the three tomes of the Creator Lord would be reunited for the first time since the second age.
With the full research of Artukos at their side, the Order of the Art would accelerate their work while remaining hidden away within the shadows of the Astral Expanse. Ayojote would disappear from the nation of Corevia for a time, leaving his old life behind in exchange for an existence of secrecy. With the possibility of both time and arcane alchemy at their fingertips, the Order would begin to design magics and mechanisms previously thought impossible. Spells capable of bringing the bubbles of the Far Realm into the Wraith Globe, armor able to obliterate and rewrite the very essence of the wearer, and weapons not only able to kill but able to erase all memory of a creature's existence were just a few of the fruits born from these years of innovation.
However, if studies of the Tomes of Esoterica and Alchemy had been daunting and dangerous, research using all three tomes was unlike any other work the Order of The Art had undertaken. Some within the Order would see these dangers and rightfully fear them, choosing to leave the Order and have their memories extracted so they could return to their previous lives. Such memories kept safe below the Temple of the Art within a vault of thought strands: memories and thoughts carried and made physical along the arcane fumes. These indivduals who would retire from the Order, Ayojote among them, would narrowly escape the cataclysm that the Order of the Art would bring upon itself in its hubris.
Ultimately, the Order of the Art would attempt to create a magnum opus, an artifact so potent that it rivalled the power of creation. However, such power was intended for none other than the Creator Lord ordained by The One. The Temple of The Art would be swept up in an unspeakable destruction unlike anything the Wraith Globe had ever witnessed. All that would remain is a temple filled with shells of past inhabitants, countless pools rife with Arcane Alchemy, and perhaps the flickering embers of that magnum opus, still capable of one last wish.
The War of Kings
"Perception is the pauper's greatest ally and his worst enemy."
- Tarkas Irly, Ruler of the Nation of Algos
As the forbidden knowledge of Artukos faded from the happenings of Mortal nations, the year for the Treaty of Koldos' one thousand year revision would come. While the commonfolk of all nations would prepare for this monumentous year with parades and festivals, underneath the parades and festivals an air of uncertainty would linger in the highest heights. After the rise and fall of the Order of The Chaos Scar, the capactiy of the individual nations of Algos, Khazan, and Corevia was brought into question. After having his mind and senses twisted by Irlinon, a child of Ersetu, Tarkas Irly had his own doubts towards the integrity of any one nation, and an inkling of an idea began to grow within his mind. Before the year of Koldos came, he would sail to visit his mother and other immortal ancestors hidden away amidst the majesty of the Feylands. Asking for their counsel, he would divulge the notion that was now eating away at him.
If individual nations were corrupted so easily, then there must be a union. Not something as impermanent as an alliance or treaty, but instead a merging of ruler, land, and ideaology. He preached to the efficacy of the Obrons, how if a nation made in the likeness of Obron were to be built across the expanses of the Wraith Globe, its foundation would be unshakable against any force of evil. If there were to be lives lost in such a pursuit, so be it, he said. If wars must be fought to convince the world of this idea, so be it, he stated. And if the knowledge of Irly's Trek must be spread throughout the world to build this immortal province, so be it. The other members of the Irly line would ponder this proposition, weighing it carefully until they finally gave Tarkas the counsel he had wished for. Fenirthir was the first speak, and her words would define the events that would unfold:
In the death of few and life of many may we hope to find an answer in this world. Carry forth the Irly name proudly, my child.
As the year of Koldos crept ever closer, Tarkas Irly would return to his nation and prepare in secret an ultimatum. On the day of the revision Tarkas with ten thousand strong behind him, not with the intent of signing any treaty but instead to preach to the other nations and convince them that they all must become one nation, a New Obron. However, Tarkas knew very well that such a union would require more than words to succeed. He would send spies into the lands of the late Order of Wizardry, country that no nation ruled, to recover the six bone dice housing the souls of the Giant Spider Queens. Some were scattered amidst the academic provinces of the land, some in the abandoned remains of Ozryn, and yet others on the path to the Astral Expanse and the Stars, but one by one they would be recovered and brought under the control of the Irly Family. Assumed to have the sole purpose of housing a powerful soul, Tarkas had learned through the research of Aniantes that if applied correctly, the antediluvian dice had a hidden power that would prove vital in his vision of a New Obron.
The year of Koldos would come, and among the festivities the officials of nearly every nation would meet once more on the shores of Lake Rhymirs, ready to maintain the treaty which had kept the Wraith Globe in a relative calm for the last one thousand years. As they gathered, Tarkas would watch from the sidelines, approaching only when all of the nations of the world were present. A sea of barbed steel would cross the ridgeline with Tarkas at their head, shining ominously in the midday sun. Tarkas would call down from the heights, reassuring his allies that no blood would be shed, but some officials would still flee in the face of such a sudden provocation, branding themselves as enemies of New Obron in Tarkas' eyes. For those who would remain, Tarkas would speak of his ideas, how the nations should become one both in substance and mind so that they can never be overtaken by outside forces again. Some, such as the leading councils of Corevia, Khazan, Necrotus, as well as Istren and Astren would turn away from the idea, believing that such an action would sacrifice the essence of liberty. Others, such as the leaders of Cygnar and Ucrua, would adhear to Tarkas ideas and side with him. With a wave of his finger, Tarkas would leave for a moment, now knowing who the enemies and allies of New Obron were.
Irly's meticulously layed out plan would then begin to unfold. Algorian forces quietly placed on Algos' borders would begin to sweep into all ajoining nations, it would be their leaders' decision whether such an invasion would be welcomed or dreaded. To those leaders who chose the the former, Tarkas would give them one last chance to side with his New Obron or be destroyed them and there. On that day, the leaders of Khazan and Necrotus would die by the sword on the shores of Lake Rhymirs defending the status quo of the Wraith Globe. The Corevian council would narrowly manage to escape the carnage, swiftly returning to their nation to warn their people of the coming conflict. What would follow would be named the War of Kings; not war between kings, but rather a war in which the concept of rulers, kings, and monarchs would either survive or wither away into obscurity.
Algos would first take the lands of Ucrua and the late Order of Wizardry, which had either bowed to the rise of New Obron or not had the cohesion to weather its winds. The alliance of Rurobon had been betrayed, and so Khazan and Necrotus would form an impromptu alliance despite their immense differences, for they both knew what would be lost if they fell. As Algos began to utilize the industrial might of Ucrua and its recent innovation of an engine powered by the invisble movement of the Shifting Sands echoed in the Material Plane, Khazan wuld be desperate to give themselves an edge against their foes. However, such an edge would require them to disturb the sanctity of life they held so dear. Inviting all but the most skilled necromancers from the ntion of Necrotus, Khazan would unearth the fallen warriors within their countless sacred burial grounds, allowing them to be raised for the thrill of combat once more. Matrems, the Mother of The Sands and one of the two patron deities of Khazan, would frown on such an abhorrent act. She was descended from Mozuir, not as a Lordborn but instead as a scion formed outside of the bounds of The Wraith Globe. As an embodiment of the memories and stories the dead pass on, Matrems would turn away from the people of Khazan, cutting off her connection to them and returning to sit at the Lord of Death's right hand until the end of the eighth age.
The Race for Irly's Trek
"Oh, Obron! Dull green scales line your streets and all your peoples! None fear death nor loneliness in your embrace, unity in mind, body, and soul flourish forevermore under your banner!"
- An Ode to New Obron
Despite the formidable might of both Khazan and Necrotus, Tarkas Irly would turn his eye to other lands, intent on the creation of a truly immortal nation. Irly's Trek must be paved with a wide and easy path, and so the nations in the way of such an endeavor would have to be pulled away like weeds. Tarkas would begin with the nation of Corevia, using Ucrua's ingenuity to engineer massive vessels that ran on the endless churning of the Shifting Sands. With massive silos on either side of their hull, such ships would turn two enormous propellers underneath the waves, powered by the lingering shadows of the echo plane of change. With these innovations the forces of Algos and Ucrua, now already rechristened as New Obron, would cut towards Corevia, bombarding it with explosives from afar and sending countless legions to swarm its shores.
Despite a few descendants of Raduga and a few other allies of Dragonkind coming to Corevia's aid, the island nation of the Dragonborn would wane in strength against the coming tide. Nonetheless, the Dragonborn were not unfamiliar with such adversity. The Corevians would take full advantage of their home's topography, travelling from peak to peak using gliders made from fabric and designed after a Dragon's wings. However, the sheer numbers of the invading force would endure despite Corevia's strategies and tactics. Ultimately the forces of Corevia would crumble, utterly overwhelmed by New Obron.
But as the forces of Tarkas Irly entered the cities and villages of Corevia, they found them to be deserted and devoid of life. The early warning of their leading council had ensured the safe escape of a large portion of their people into the Feylands, where they would seek refuge amid their relatives within the Pentiter.
The forces of New Obron would continue their brutal crusade across the waves, travelling further West towards the twin nations of Istren and Astren. Already pressed by the forces of Cygnar to the South, Istren and Astren would abolish the House of Separation as one last effort to survive, hoping that union of their two halves might help them to endure. In a great quake the maw of Steepmire Ravine would close tight, and the split nation would be returned to its former glory. Alas, the notion that such a union could foster victory was nothing more than wishful thinking, and Astren would be absorbed by New Obron followed closely by its sister Istren. This tectonic reunion would have purpose beyond the War of Kings, all it would take to bear from was time. It is all too unfortunate that Istren and Astren were out of time. With this final offensive, the way had been cleared to Irly's Trek, and the foundation of New Obron's order could begin to be built.
As the War of Kings continued on the central continent, construction would begin on an enormous bridge hanging above the waters of Laureil and circling the entirety of the Material Plane. The path would be known as The Crown of Tarkas, and would stand as a open and inviting path for all to complete Irly's Trek. It was said that the sixteen Spirit Guides at the edges of the world would disappear upon the crown's completion, leaving behind a near endless supply of their dull green scales. It was unknown to all why Mozuir would allow such a thing to happen. Could he not see the danger in such a choice? Now I know the answer, and I cannot blame him.
The Fall of Khazan
"On my grandmother's death, these heathens shall not breach our precious asylum. On wings of iron and decay we shall ride, our blades wreathed in the shadow of death. Such is my testament to this so-called 'New Obron.' In death may you be purified of your foolishness."
- Yargulus Zerleas
With his grand crown complete as an accessory to trump any other Irly, Tarkas would begin his war on the central continent proper. Along the Khazan-Algos front combat would froth wildly, a battle of legendary warriors and their undead ancestors against the best-outfitted military the Wraith Globe had ever seen. Neither force would gain an advantage as blood soaked deeper and deeper into the earth until it flowed freely like crimson rivers. The necromancers of Necrotus would furiously resurrect their Khazanian allies time and time again, descrecrating all semblance of the desert nation's honor and tradition. Algos would once against resort to sending not just its men and women to war, but also its children and elderly in order to fight unending warriors of Khazan.
However, Tarkas would not pour so many resources into a front without purpose. As the battle raged between Khazan and Algos, he would launch a sudden waterborne offenses from the coasts of Ucrua to the coasts of Necrotus, taking advantage of how Necrotus had emptied all but its reserves to aid Khazan. Over the course of a single night there would be Ucruan forces battering themselves against the wall of the three Citadels of Asylum. The grandson of the great Chronulus Zerleas, Yargulus, would lead the charge against the invaders of Adyta, his hulking bone axe sending out claps of bone-shattering thunder to all with one hundred feet of him. However, the forces of Necrotus were running thin within their own borders, and the few champions who would survive the onslaught would be pushed north into the harsh cold of Ixthra, where they would survive off the land, evading the soldiers of New Obron.
The nation of Necrotus would fall after only a few months of this onslaught, and Khazan would be left alone to weather the tides of their enemy. Ormir, Bontir, and Rhydarias had long since faded into the Astral Expanse with the help of their angelic patrons, and all other had been absorbed into the all-consuming mass of New Obron. The last remnants of Khazan would be buried under bones and bodies on the nation's northmost shores, the warriors of the desert nation preferring to be slaughtered in glorious combat than to flee onto the water. Despite Matrems' abandonment, the blessing of Sadao would remain with Khazan until the very end, for the Khazanians had never turned their backs to combat, only resorting to it when necessary but always fighting to their last breath. On that day forward Sadao would encircle his chest with a velvet sash depicting the symbol of Khazan: crossed Alloracks, a homage to the warrior nation.
At long last, Tarkas had achieve his dream of a New Obron. The Material Plane was but a single nation now, one that stretched from edge of the world to the other. However, he knew what he must do if it was to last. He would journey once more to his family house in the Feylands, intent to finish his work. He would leave to his advisors explicit instructions on what must be done to ensure the growth and stability of New Obron, and asked that if he were to dissappear none would search for him. His family would assume that he had come to celebrate this great triumph for the Finite Races, and in a sense they were right. Tarkas would come alone, with neither bodyguard nor advisor, proposing a night of meerymaking amongst the Irly family. All would heartily agree, but as food and wine was prepared, Tarkas would give his final order, to the lowly servers no less. Giving them a gilded vial sheathed in leather, he would ask that a drop of the liquid within would be added to all the glasses of his family, himself included. understanding his intentions but not having any idea why Tarkas would do such a thing, the servers obeyed the final decree of their ruler. As the Irly family sat down for an expansive feast, Tarkas called for a toast, hoising his wine-filled glass over his head, exclaiming a short toast. With a loud approval, all drank from their goblets, including Tarkas.
Just moments later the entire Irly line would sharply feel the gentle touch of Mozuir twist around their hearts. Just minutes later, a peaceful silence would permeate the Irly residence, a silent hymn to the death of kings and sultans, and an end to the War of Kings.
With time, New Obron would be built as Tarkas Irly had wished it, just as he had dictated it to his advisors. Those closest to him had known that he would spend hours in the dark of his room, thinking about the world and the many pieces within it. He would ponder what an end to the War of Kings would look like, and yet one thing he knew for certain in his heart is that he could not be a part of that future. Even if he relinquished his throne and become a common pauper, he feared that he would still be "the father of New Obron," and by proxy its king. The only solution he could find to his predicament, just like the only solution his ancestor Fenirthir found for her own question an age ago, was death. There would be no point to a war meant to abolish monarchy if a monarch claimed victory, and so he would choose to end his entire bloodline, ensure that no ruler rose to command New Obron.
New Obron
"A toast! To the death of kings and queens, to the foundation of New Obron, and to the sweet embrace of Mozuir!"
- Tarkas Irly, Last Ruler of Algos
As the final written instructions of Tarkas Irly were carried out by his advisors in the years following the War of Kings, the foundation of New Obron would begin to take shape. The industries of the nations would become interconnected as a web of trasportation using the churning tides of the Shifting Sands was built and the path to the Crown of Tarkas was opened. Over the course of a decade, all Mortals within the Material Plane would make a pilgrimage to the borders of the world if they so chose, achieving age immortality for all the Finite Races besides those within Viabaas' Ring or the four echo planes. Such pilgrimages would first open to the elderly, slowly descending in age until it was put in stone that all Mortals within New Obron would embark on Irly's Trek upon turning twenty-two, returning to their home before a year had passed. Military endured but would shrink in influence as riots and protests against the fall of old nations waned over a number of years. A new culture of indoctrination would slowly creep into the cities and countrysides of New Obron, bending the up and coming generation in favor of the ideals founded by Tarkas Irly.
Those who had fleed into the echoes of the Wraith Globe during the War of Kings, mostly refugees from Necrotus and Corevia, would watch as the order of the Mortal world was rewritten into something resembling the first age. However, New Obron fell within an area that walked a thin line between tyranny and freedom. The final action that Tarkas had left with his advisors would be an act so pivotal that it would mark the turning point between the previous age and the next. As the final preparations for made to place the keystone atop the masterpiece that was New Obron, six familiar artifacts would be taken from the nation's deepest vault. The surviving advisors of the late ruler, seven in total, would then take the bone dice containing the souls of the Spider Queen to the very top of Mount Karar'at. There they would rest, setting up a small camp overlooking the expansive might of the Wraith Globe.
As I have mentioned previously, the dice were not simply containers for powerful souls, but also ripe with the forbidden psychic magics which the Spider Queens were originally formed from, first by Artukos and then by Urgyzarlou. Just like stagnant air splitting into potently toxic layers when left undisturbed, the fumes of magic within the six souls had fermented and festered, splitting into something resembling the Scourge of the third age. However, there was no longer a Spider Queen left to control such a Scourge. In his research, the late High Mage Aniantes had hypothesized that such a magic, if spread through living creatures, would form not only a mental link, but a sort of shared psychic homeostasis. However, unknown to both Aniantes and Tarkas was that the potent fermentation of the dice had been a natural occurence of arcane alchemy, a powerful instance of psychic magic and the physical properties of the world intermingling to create an impressive gaseous concoction. Tarkas Irly had wished for an unbreakable web of connections throughout the Mortal peoples, and this was how he believed it could be done.
As the sun set on the horizon of the world Tarkas Irly had dreamt of, a number of his loyal councilors adept in the arcane would release the magics welled up within the bone dice of the Spider Queens. With a roaring hiss resembling the sound of crashing stone, an invisible wave of magic would be carried on the winds, resting upon all life that it could find.
In this way, a collective mind would be formed across the Finite Races. No thoughts or intentions of one Mortal would be free from another. No mind or body would be alone outside of sleep, for everyone was now connected. A collective consciousness would be built up from tide of thoughts and emotions, a tide that made decisions and acted on the wishes of the majority. There would no longer be need for military, guards, or advisors, for everyone and no one was now all of those things and more. If one were to steal a loaf of bread, there would no better way to reprimand them but for all others to bombard them with negative emotion, training them against such actions. If one acts with charity or prudence, than there would be no better way to reward them but with a wave of praise from all other citizens of New Obron, a torrent of euphoria bordering on ectasy.
A repository of information bounded only by the collective knowledge of every mortal on the Material Plane would be formed within this mind. Despite the benefits of such a wealth of knowledge, it would come with unforeseen consequences. A small portion of children born into this shared mind would crumple underneath its immensity, their minds crushed by the weight of the world. Such a fate would often prove fatal, but the minds of those who survived such a weight would not develop, remaining in a perpetual infancy incapable of unique or advanced thought for the rest of their existence.
The only thoughts that would be free from others would be the wandering conceptions during sleep, when the mind would recede into itself to dream. As the mind retreated it would rest, free from the voices of the collective. However, there was not peace in such rest. For so many the mind would fall into endless nightmares in fear of the bombardment upon its awakening. Such widespread was during the nights of the Material Plane that it would manifest itself into the Astral Expanse: a nightmare frontier deep below the waves of the Astral Sea. This frontier would take the form of the Material Plane, and yet all the strife and confusion and all the pain and misery hidden underneath the seeming bliss of New Obron would manifest there. No longer would mortals disconnected from the Material Plane awake on the shores of the Astral Expanse, for the dreams and thoughts of the world had sunken far below the sea between the stars. Instead, those Mortals who found only depression and disdain within New Obron would awake within the depths of the nightmare. Their only hope of survival was to escape the maze of their own convictions and rise to surface of the sea, finding solace in the city of Laevent. And yet, upon waking from sleep no memories of such a place would linger in the Mortals' mind, and so the order of New Obron would remain.
The Mortals of New Obron would rejoice in unison at the immense achievement they had reached with a perfect unity, and yet the Lordly Pantheon as well as The One would frown at such an existence. In the place of groundbreaking innovations a status quo had emerged, an equilibrium that promoted neither freedom nor creativity. Some of the few Mortals within the material Plane that would remain separate from the collective would be the Lordborn, their minds shielded by their patron Lords and Ladies. Some Lordborn would serve as prophets to the citizens of New Obron, warning them that such hubris and disregard for the balance of the Wraith Globe would lead to the pantheon abandoning them. Many such prophets were driven out and killed, but some would survive off the remaining wild parts of the Wraith Globe, sustained by the bounty of the Lords and Ladies above.
Another Path - Age of the Antiquarian
"My dear friend, you do not truly know the path you doom yourself to. You accelerate towards what you believe to be a just and natural goal, and yet you are blind in the midst of your great speed. such a trajectory can only be one-way."
- Ayojote, Carnelian Eyes
The following is an account from the dreams of Akina, the High Lady of Secrets and Doors. Such accounts represent events that never occurred, timelines cut in their infancy. Such worlds have now faded into phantasmagoria. Members of the Lordly Pantheon sometimes dreamed of such possibilities, and the following is one such vision.
Although unlikely, perhaps the hubris of the Order of The Art was not so great. Perhaps they did not destroy themselves with a great magnum opus and instead lived on into the War of Kings. Perhaps they learned of Tarkas Irly's plan to use the Dice of the Seven Giant Spider Queens and were determined to halt it no matter the cost.
More than any other mortals, those within the Order of The Art knew all of the interworkings of the six dice created in the third age. Although rare, natural occurences of arcane alchemy were not unheard of, and if the ruler of Algos and New Obron wished to use such power for his new nation it would go against the organization's most sacred tenets. In order to stop an insurrection against the natural and Lordly laws, the Order of the Art would send the greatest warrior among their ranks to give Tarkas one warning before he ensured his doom. None other than Ayojote, one of the Newborn Willows, would become the champion of the Order of the Art, a holy warrior vowed not only to the tenets of the emerald tablet but also to the virtues of the Lordly Pantheon. By both standards, what Tarkas planned to do was unnatural, and so he would travel from the dark corners of the Astral Expanse to the Algorian capital of Vuekson where the great Irly palace lay.
Climbing to the pinnacles of the city Ayojote would demand words with the Algorian ruler, and upon recognizing the late Corevian official Tarkas would welcome the ambassador of the Order into his abode. Tarkas would be shocked that Ayojote knew so much of his plan for New Obron, and suspicion of the Dragonborn would grow steadily in his heart. Ayojote would explain that use of such potent arcane alchemy would only spell disaster in the hands of rulers and monarchs, and that pursuing such an end would not only convict him in the eyes of the Order of the Art, but also in the eyes of the Lordly Pantheon. However, Tarkas' heart was already hardened in pursuit of what he believed to be a perfect world, and he would not listen. With his eyes like blazing orange carnelians filled with the flames of zealotry, Ayojote would condemn Tarkas to his coming fate and leave the confines of Vuekson hurriedly.
What would follow would be a war hidden from sight, a conflict on the waves of the Astral Sea. as the blossoming New Obron fought the War of Kings across the Material Plane, it would fight a second front in a War of Scholars. The Order of the Art would be the first to strike, calling on the favor of the great Tiktalak to lay waste to the city of Vuekson with the nuclear flames of Aurindus. However, Tarkas would narrowly manage to escape the inferno. Enraged, Tarkas Irly would become both commander and tactictian in the War of Scholars, leaving his campaigns against the other Mortal nations to his seven advisors. Donning arcane armor barbed with spines that ripple out like steel waves, the forces of New Obron would quietly take to the Astral Sea, intent on finding the location of the Temple of the Art.
The intricacies of arcane alchemy would be put to heavy use in the conflict. Instead of studying the laws of the Wraith Globe for research, the Order of the Art would turn to the creation of purely destructive objects. Amidst the Astral Sea star sails would battle against one another as artillery streaked across the sky of the Material Plane, the first shooting stars since the first age. Since their organization's inception led by Smaragdina, Ayojote would take up the mantle of leader amid the Order, acting as their commander and dooming them to the fate their own tenets had warned them against. They would believe that a temporary sacrifice of their beliefs would spell decisive victory against a greater threat of pride, but only time would tell if such a gamble of morals would bear fruit.
And so the forces of the Carnelian Eyes and the Iron Wave would froth across the skies, a war shrouded from public view. The peoples of Laevent would turn their back to the Dreamborn, believing that the end of the long dream was finally approaching. The mirrors of the shining city would hide it from outsiders, acting as a hidden sanctuary amidst the War of Scholars. The Mortal nations on the Material Plane would continue to struggle against New Obron, now with an added edge. Even a nation as formidable as New Obron could barely maintain two offensives of such enormous proportions. Now the fate of the Wraith Globe would lie on a razor's edge; Would the free Mortal nations prevail, would New Obron once against dominate the Material Plane, or would the Order of the Art provide a third alternative forward?
