"This document shall here onwards provide mutual alliance and negotiation between the following honorable nations of the Wraith Globe: Khazan, Algos, The Order of Wizardry, Necrotus, and Ucrua."
- Opening Clause of the Treaty of Koldos
Ahra Katash's disappearance after her attempt to slay Erṣetu would only bolster the ever-growing fight against the Tyranny of Dragons. The death of Khazan's champion would throw the nation into a wrath against Dragonkind. Nonetheless, all of Dragonkind would hear the final call of Drakorn's authority and would vanish overnight, leaving the Mortals of the central continent to rebuild. Many would believe this to be a sign from the Lordly Pantheon, a sign of good faith from the Lords and Ladies beyond. From this miraculous event, the Wraith Globe would soon come to know an unprecedented era of peace, one that even rivaled the golden days of the Obrons.
In time, the old nations of the central continent would be rebuilt as they once were, but after so many years of all Mortals struggling under the same yoke of tyranny alongside one another, such division would not feel as natural as it may have before. Despite this the old nations from before the tyranny would return, but a treaty would come into being alongside them. During the campaign against Dragonkind, each nation had its own personal champion, although Ahra Katash was undoubtedly not just the champion of Khazan but of the entire Wraith Globe as well.
Within the Order of Wizardry it was Präeskan, the High Mage of abjuration and shielding, who was reminded once more of how him and his people had overcome the terrors of war once before, and began to build up the defenses of his old nation, vowing to step outside of the small vault which the High Mages and their most trusted courtiers had buried themselves in. Within Algos, it would be Fenirthir Irly, the fated ancestor of the Irly Line, who made a deal with the Lord of Death himself to gain knowledge capable of helping her people outlive Dragonkind. Within Ucrua, it would be the ingenius inventor Micare, one of the rare descendants of the nation's Magnesium Men, who would relight the ancient subterranean forges and reignite the spark of inspiration in the industrial nation. Within Necrotus, it would Chronulus Zerleas who would use the stories of her ancestors to raise an army of apparitions born from legacy and history.
These four characters of renown would come together after the disappearance of both Ahra Katash and Dragonkind, bringing their most trusted officials to forge a document bonding together the Mortal nations. Those who first fought alongside Katash in the Five Blades took their champion's place, each wielding a ceremonial Allorack sashed around their waist as a tribute to their leader. They would convene on the shores of lake Rhymirs proceding from the Rhyms, within sight of the remains of Kragzbarg slowly being rebuilt. Over the course of the next week, it would be decided by the nations present to form a coalition of sorts, a collective alliance amidst Mortals meant to keep negotiation open and trade flowing across the central continent. This agreement would be penned by "death's chronicler," Chronulus Zerleas herself, and would then onwards be known as the Treaty of Koldos.
Ensuring peaceful negotiations between all nations involved, it would be written that the Treaty of Koldos must be renewed by the nations at the end of one thousand years, and that if any other nations wished to join the coalition, revisions of the document could be made before that expiration. Over the course of one thousand years many of the nations across the outer continents and isles would join this pact, but we will come to that story soon enough. However, Ban-Rock-Buren and later the nation of Necrotus would turn their backs to the Treaty of Koldos, either standing against its fundamental principles of unity or not believing they were upheld to begin with. The Treaty of Koldos would ensure a long lasting peace leading to an age of exploration and innovation rivalling that of the second age, but it would not be without its flaws.
The creators of the treaty would float out together onto the surface of Lake Rhymirs and set an offering adrift on the water. A collection of desert flowers from the valleys of Ban-Rock-Buren, a second copy of the Treaty of Koldos, and a series of quaint loaves large and small brushed with olive oil floated down the Rhyms in a simple woven basket, a peace offering to the Lordly Pantheon eventually lost to the heartbeat of the tides.
This offering was received by the Lordly Pantheon well, and their influence would slowly begin to creep back into the world once more. Many of the Lordborn who had resided within the domains of their masters for many years were set free upon the Material Plane. They would live their lives fulfilling their virtues until they would die and be suceeded in spirit and soul.
In the following years monuments would be built rising from the depths of Lake Rhymirs, five obelisks with statues of the Wraith Globe's champions built at their peak: Präeskan, Irly, Micare, Zerleas, and Katash. These sentinels of stone would remain to watch over the long peace they had ensured until their visages were desecrated during the War of Kings.
Reunion with the Outer Isles
"By Laureil's bosom! Ye think I would stop at the end of all waves? Nay, the heartbeat of our great Lady extends up into the skies. 'Tis my intentions to sail there and beyond."
- Laura, Pirate Queen of the Stars
As cities were rebuilt and faith in the Lordly Pantheon was slowly restored, the devout among the central nations turned again to Viabaas' old commission to explore the outer reaches of the world and to make it their own. Cities along the coast would flourish as pilgrims pledge to all assortments of Lords, Ladies, and other dieties flocked to the edges of their world, intent to take up their savior's command once more. During the early years of the age, such cities of pilgrimage would be melting pots of both faith and people, hubs of both genuine enlightenment and cheap wisdom.
In truth, these would remain the most dangerous cities all throughout the central continent for a time. Few things are less conspicuous than a burdened pilgrim amidst the masses, and there a few things less missed than a single individual pulled from that same crowd. In their less savory corners, such the cities of pilgrimage would be smuggling dens and back alleys rife with kidnappings. Some of the port captains would take advantage of this business, a few even becoming renown across the Wraith Globe as pirates of the outer isles. However, they would be few and far between compared to the many residents of these cities of pilgrimage who truly believed in Viabaas' comission.
As countless pilgrims and adventurers alike sailed out from the central continent in search of land, wisdom, or treasure, the High Lady of the Tides Laureil would aid them on their journey, guiding them towards the long shrouded outer continents. Laureil was one of the few amidst the pantheon to remain supportive of the Mortal Races throughout the third and fourth ages. Despite all of the strife and in-fighting, the ways in which the Merfolk and Sea-Haerus continually showed kindness to not only other mortals but to the natural world continued to reassure the Lady of the Tides of the goodness in Mortal souls. As the outer isles drifted further from their origin after the Lord's Hammerblow, she saw an unprecedented opportunity: a chance for the Mortals to begin again, their slate washed clean by the waves. And so, Laureil would create driving winds and rushing waves to separate the outer continents from the central continent, a rush of winds and waves that would gently steer and wrong who wished to pass between the two. However, as the boots of Mortomare carrying countless Dragonborn would leave the central continent, grasping for even the smallest hope of safety, Laureil would have mercy on them, parting the division of seas and guiding them peacefully to the isle of Corevia, a new home for them to thrive in.
As Dragonkind vanished from the world, the Treaty of Koldos was ratified, and the Lordly Pantheon's faith in the Mortals was restored, Laureil opened up the watery causeways to the outer isles, allowing all Mortals to reunite for the first time since the Lord's Hammerblow. The first of the outer nations to be rediscovered would be Corevia, the nation of the rebuked Dragonborn. Shocked to see the Dragonborn alive against all odds, the Order of Wizardry, Khazan, and Ucrua would send bountiful offerings to Corevia, an apology for the wrongs committed against the island's peoples, but Corevia would refuse all these gifts, stating plainly that they would accept actions over objects. In the coming years the nation of Corevia would be ammended into the Treaty of Koldos, and a positive yet mysterious relationship between Corevia and the other Mortal nations would be formed.
Sensing Laureil's intervention, the patron Angels of Ormir, Bontir, and Rhydarias would command their nations' peoples to sail out and meet their Mortal brethren once more, and so it would be the Dwarves of Ormir, Bontir, and Rhydarias landing on the shores of Ucrua rather than the inverse. Although they could share little of their divine knowledge, the innovation of the Star Sail would spark strides towards the frontier beyond the seas: the stars. The ingenuity of the Ucruans would be lit aflame once more, and from this flame a new Ucruan capital would spring up as the industrial center of the world: Falkrunn.
The split nations of Istren and Astren would not speak of their hardships, keeping the true purpose of the House of Separation a secret from the outside world. Having heard of groups such as Vyignati and the carnage they had caused, the officials of Istren and Astren feared that some would wish to exploit the secret of Steepmire Ravine. However, Istren would not as certain of this decision as its twin was, and would not be as opposed to exploring the Phase Land's secrets.
The agricultural nation of Cygnar, seeing that their home of Lorkay had been destroyed long ago, would choose to take up the mantle of the Great Tent, inviting in those wanting refuge or safety and teach them of the self-sufficiency of Artukos' creation. However, some of the Vandor would instead choose to leave Cygnar with their loved ones, instead on helping to repopulate the world with their people, who had grown scarce over the third and fourth ages.
The continent of Ixthra would remain shrouded in fog and mystery, uninviting of any who would wish to wander in or out of its borders. Nonetheless, it would be remain connected to nation of Necrotus by a thin straight, lying dormant and silent.
The Phase Lands which the outermost isles of the Material Plane resided in would become a point of interest among those versed in the arcane and planar, especially within the Order of Wizardry. The High Mages themselves would form an agreement with the nation of Istren proposing a research settlment be built within the Phase Lands to study their peculiarities. Such a fortification would be quickly erected on a small island north of Istren's mainland, and so the Insunovis Territory was born.
This territory would become a destination on the border between reality and fantasy, a proverbial fountain of folklore and myth. Although the majority of residents in Insunovis were either researchers intent on studying the Phase Lands or hunters bent on protecting the territory from the abberations rampant this close to the edge of the world, criminal enterprises have taken advantage of the relative lawlessness in that place so far from the High Mages' jurisdiction. the hidden places of the Insunovis Territory would be riddled with cults, illegal smuggling enterprises, and other similar organizations born from the cities of pilgrimage. It would not be uncommon for individual, groups, or even entire settlements to go missing overnight, and so those who were lucky or connected enough to gain access to Insunovis would spread countless stories surrounding that "remnant frontier." Stories would be twisted into tales, tales into myths, and myths into legend as the Insunovis Territory gained its colloquial name: The Land of Folklore. Many believed that Insunovis embodied all the mystery of folklore and myths, that the engimatic and unexplainable in the Wraith Globe had crept its way into the world from outer realms.
The Birth of the Irly Line
"Such a path is not an escape from death, but rather a gift of revelation. If you so choose, you shall survive but not live to see the ultimate end of the first phantasmagoria. one could see that as the greatest curse of all. My dearest Fenirthir, is that truly what you desire?"
- Mozuir, The High Lord of Death
As knowledge of the outer isles would circulate throughout the central Wraith Globe, Fenirthir Irly, the champion of Algos and the new ruler of its reimagined plutocracy, would take careful notice. During the darkest days of the Tyranny of Dragons, Fenirthir had simply been an urchin searching for the semblance of a life in the ruins of Vuekson, the capital of Algos. One day as the young Irly bartered the junk she had found on the surface, a group of Mozuir's apostles journeying from Necrotus would pass through her home shelter attempting to share their faith. They would be driven out, their gospel of death unwelcome by the people of Algos, but Fenirthir's interest would be piqued by their words. As the apostles hurriedly left, she would grab their attention for just a few moments, and they would generously give her one of their hymnals with a quick and hopeful nod.
These hymns would speak of not only the inevitability of death, but also of the inherent darkness within the world and those who walk upon it. They would speak of death as a cleansing, and undeath as a renewal of the cleansed. Such hymns would be accompanied by shadow theatre lit by multi-colored laterns, depicting how life is only possible through the all-encompassing nature of death.
Fenirthir would read and mouth these songs in the quiet hours of the night, this new perspective on death lingering in her mind. Since her birth, the refugees around described death of their brethren as a tragedy and death of Dragonkind as their inevitable hope, nothing more. However, Mozuir presented a perspective on death unlike any Fenirthir had heard previously: death was not an end, it was a conduit. As she survived off of scraps, Fenirthir Irly would choose to worship the Lord of Death in secrecy despite it being taboo, offering up a portion of her livelihood to her new patron. In her heart of hearts, Fenirthir simply wished for something more, something beyond the Tyranny of Dragons, something beyond the lingering hope that the Finite Races could outlive their oppressors. How little she knew of how akin to me she was, grasping at the loose strings hanging from the shadowy tapestry of her reality.
After a few short months, the hidden hymnal and a few hand-carved statuettes would be found by one of the other refugees, and Fenirthir's secret faith would be revealed to the small underground community. The woman would be rebuked and driven out, forced to cower and hide among the crumbling remains of the surface world. For many weeks Fenirthir would be on the brink of starvation, managing to find just enough food to prolong her miserable existence. However, as she lay curled under a collapsed statue to an unnamed Lord one night, sheltered by the monument long defaced and forgotten, the Lord of Death himself would take mercy on her poor soul. Awaking from a terrible nightmare, she would surrounded by dancing violet lights slithering across the sky, illuminating a path. She could feel a difference in the atmosphere, an unnatural cold. However, she was not afraid, for she knew that this must be the doing of Mozuir himself. Walking the path of heatless flame before her, she looked to the sky and saw countless elevator's descending and ascending, carrying within them the apparitions of Mortals. Before her lay an empty elevator gilded in gold, waiting for its passenger. She stepped inside, believing that she had died in her sleep, and the elevator rose smoothly into the night sky sprinkled with clouds.
Rising through the clouds, a hidden sanctuary would reveal itself: a domed observatory of brick speckled with silver droplets. As the elevator slowed and smoothly clicked to a halt, its door swung open, presenting a wooden jetty and a shimmering silver veil leading into the observatory. Unafraid of death, Irly stepped through the veil and into the domain of Mozuir. Before her was a sprawling room filled with all assortment of scientific instruments and charts, sixteen telescopes pointed skyward throughout.
At the center of the room, busy studying charts and calculations, stood a figure draped in a draped and discolored grey cloak, golden cords adorning its sleeves, waist, and hood. Turning towards her, the figure removed its hood, revealing a severed neck topped with a large arcane flame of swirling purples and blues. Speaking to Fenirthir in her mind, the Lord of Death beckoned her to come and sit with him, and so she did, ready for the Lord's judgement to be passed on her wayward soul. However, such a judgement never came, for Irly was not yet dead.
You remind me of a man an eon ago. He too worshipped a god of death and was condemned to death because of it. that god took mercy on the man, and so I too will take mercy on you. You have served me well, and so I will exalt you if you so choose.
Irly, nearly too awe-struck to respond, managed to mutter a question to the Lord:
But why? Why me and why now?
With a lean forward, Mozuir would elaborate.
It is by a greater design. You have a choice: either you may take my graciousness and return to the world with your life, or you choose receive a greater gift choked with the revelation of this world: knowledge of a path beyond mortality.
Fenirthir was taken aback at this. How could the Lord of Death present a way to escape death? But as if he were seeing her thoughts alongside her, Mozuir answered her unspoken question:
Such a path is not an escape from death, but rather a gift of revelation. If you so choose, you shall survive but not live to see the ultimate end of the first phantasmagoria. one could see that as the greatest curse of all. My dearest Fenirthir, is that truly what you desire?
Fenirthir's mind would race back and forth, weighing this immeasurable heavy choice. Such a gift would come with an unseen price beyond her comprehension, and yet knowledge could be spread. Perhaps an escape from mortality was not just in her reach, but in the reach of all who she held dear. Perhaps the faint hope that her people had for outliving Dragonkind was not such a distant prospect after all. However, her greatest motivation of all was to catch a glimpse of something beyond this cycle of tyranny and self-destruction. She believed with everything she had that the Finite Races had been touched by the Pride within their creator's soul, but could there be another cleansing of that curse besides the purification of death? Only time would tell, and with this gift the hourglass could be tipped onto its side. Her voice still wavering the slightest amount, Fenirthir would accept and Mozuir would share with her a piece of the Wraith Globe's most obscure esoterica.
He told her of a great unseen wall encompassing the edges of the Wraith Globe, supported by sixteen pillars at the edges of the world, beyond the reaches of the central continent and all other land. Atop each of these pillars are braziers of violet flames, lighthouses to keep wayward souls from departing the borders of the Wraith Globe forever. A solitary Spirit Guide keeps watch over each of these beacons, and a string of sixteen scales acquire from each of these sentinels through trickery, deception, wisdom, or honesty shall act as a charm that wards away the frailty of age.
As the fifth age began and the outer isles were rediscovered, Fenirthir Irly would take Algos' fastest ship and her most trusted crew to the edges of the world, using the Insunovis Territory as their last port before the ruler of Algos would return with her true crown: a circlet of grey-green scales. Such would be the legacy of Irly's Trek, and few besides Fenirthir's descendants and most trusted friends would ever learn of it. The Irly Line would prosper thanks to the secret shared with them by the Lord of Death, and the pieces would slowly be arranged for their destined fall.
Exploring the Astral Expanse
"There are two kinds of places through the expanses of the Wraith Globe: space itself and the spaces between those spaces."
- Akina, Higher Lady of Secrets and Doors
As all of the Mortals throughout the Material Plane reunited with the help of Laureil the frontier of the seas had been conquered, and countless eyes turned upwards towards the sky and stars. Under the approval of their Angelic patrons, the Dwarven nations of Ormir, Bontir, and Rhydarias shared the ingenuity of the Star Sail with their brethren in Ucrua and the next frontier, the Astral Plane, had been realized.
The strong-willed among the pilgrims who had sailed the seas not so long ago turned to Astral Expanse, some even pledging servitude to the Angels as they continued their voyage with the hopes of finding the vanished Viabaas. However, this expansive new frontier was not entirely new to all Mortals. Besides the exploits of Ormir, Bontir, and Rhydarias, the Astral Plane was a sort of grey space, halfway in between the diverse creation of Artukos and the uniform dark void that proceeded it. Because of that, the burning white souls of mortals shined more brightly there, points of light of the waves of purple and violet. Sometimes, those who receded inwards, whether through dettachment or despair, would fall into a gentle slumber and disappear, waking up on the shores of the tranquil sea. There they would remain, their minds believing that their life before had simply been a dream they had woken up from. These souls who had been spirited away would build a life upon and within this cosmic sea, cities of mirrors so perfect that one could not tell if they were walking on reality or reflection. Some such souls would come from the ruins of the faded Underdark city of Gaudent, a bright subterranean star buried after the Lord's Hammerblow. From these displaced souls the new city of stars Laevent would be born. Just as they had in the old days of Gaudent, the performers of Laevent would perform theatrical duels whilst creating patterns of colors and light, but the mirrors of the city and the waters of the sea would reflect such spectacles, creating kaledoscopic fireworks. Just as they had once risen from the Soulful Depths within Artukos' palace, wayward souls would sometimes rise from the depths of the Astral Expanse, Mortals brough there through dettachment or despair. Such arrivals would be met with great merrymaking, for it was seen as someone waking from a slumber of countless years, finally opening their eyes after a second birth.
However, not all corners of the Astral Plane would be bathed in merriment and starlight as that of Laevent. For every corner of the expanse that tended further towards the vibrant beauty of Artukos' creation, another tended towards the shadowy nothing of the void. In these dark places the Order of the Art would make its abode. At the collapse of Obron and the city of Ansulf, the Order of the Art used the two tomes of Artukos they had stolen to pull not just themselves but all of their research and archives out of harm's way. With his limited knowledge of the arcane, Smaragdina, the first head of the order, would use the Tome of Esoterica to bring himself and all of the Order of the Art somewhere safe from clutches of war. Whether intentionally or not, the tome brough the Order of the Art to a space not entirely within the Material Plane, a dark and shrouded corner of the Astral Expanse. Within their archival temple hanging in the astral waters, they would begin their work anew, unhindered by the prying eyes of Obron or any other Mortal nation.
The pilgrims of the Astral Sea of tranquility would take many forms. Some would come seeking Viabaas, the lost Lord. Others would hope to sail this new frontier and return with whatever wonders they found, and yet others wished for nothing more but to settle upon the Astral waves and forget all that the Material Plane had endured. Those living within Laevent would welcome the travellers as what they called Dreamborn, beings of pure fantasy. Only through drifting to sleep while floating upon the traquil and buoyant waters could a Dreamborn shed the dream they help so tightly to, and some seeking solace away from the world would be born again in this way, met with celebration from the residents of Laevent as they began a new life. However, others among the pilgrims would believe this to be a trick of the place, like a sweet scent to lure in prey. After all, it was said by many that swimming in the Astral Sea is so pleasant that one could fall into the embrace of sleep without even noticing.
As one reached the horizon of the tranquil waves, the current would sweep outwards slowly but steadily, as if hastening any upon it towards the object of their curiousity. Indeed, the Astral Expanse did have an end, it's edges spilling off into various downwards currents pulling every which way. The strongest of these currents brough any upon them to one of the sixteen stars of Viabaas' Ring, while some of the weaker currents led to the smaller planes between those brightest points. The waters of the Astral Plane were ever diverging and splitting until the end of the eighth age, carving out more and more spaces and faint stars within the sky of the Wraith Globe. With time, some adept in the arcane would even learn to bend these Astral currents to their whim, creating a special current of their own and along with it a small demiplane to call home. With this discovery, the few brave of foolhardy enough to continue would enter the sixteen stars they had seen since childhood. Some would find themselves in the domain of one of the five Fegnaór, other in the clock of world, Mechanus, or one of the few abandoned stars, and a rare few would even find themselves before the Lordly Pantheon itself, in the place only known as Empyreal. However, such an event was exceedingly rare.
One final mystery of the Astral Expanse would remain. Floating upon the peaceful waves of the sea one could sometimes hear faint whispers, a collection of mismatched voices that speak of many things, mostly in patchy and nonsensical sentences. Although most would discount this as meaningless, perhaps echoes across the starry waters, other would believe them to have greater significance. The grand majority of the superstituous would believe them to be the garbled words of all Mortals' dreams, but some speculated that these were the whispers of the Lords and Ladies within the pantheon, discussing matters of the Finite Races and other things alongside. No matter what they were, their seeming randomness, both in appearance and construction, would represent a cipher that would linger unbroken for a time.
Echoes of the Wraith Globe
"From the sparkling towers of Feyll to the brooding malice of Larvi and its serpentine broodmother, the four reflected facets of the jewel that is the Material Plane have much to offer to the brave and curious."
- Tapplar's Tellings, Volume IV
Throughout the ages of the Wraith Globe, many Mortals had been unknowingly spirited away from their world, pulled by the twisting flow of starlight and fumes. However, not all such individuals would find themselves on the shores of the Astral Expanse. Some, like the Serbantu slavemasters of the first age, would be swept away to a reflection of the hopelessness and death present in the world, while others like the five Dragonborn clans of the Pentiter would be carried away to a reflection of majesty and vibrance. Yet others would find themselves in an ever-shifting desert or a maze-like complex of perfectly cut cubical stone. These were known as the echo planes, reverberations of the Material Plane and its many aspects. I have already mentioned two such echoes already: the Shadowfell and the Feylands. While the Feylands would represent the thriving life and majesty of the Material Plane, the Shadowfell would represent everything dead, hopeless, and dying. However, there were two more such echoes: the Shifting Sands and the Stagnate Stones, which would embody the changing and the constant.
Such contrasts would not be inherently at odds with one another, as both were necessary for the Wraith Globe to be what it was. However, all four of these echoes would present their own unique dangers.
Despite its vibrant and lush nature, the Feylands' flora was so dense and brimming with carnivoruous or poisonous species that few except the most versed in the terrain could hope to traverse the Feylands and live. Over time, the Pentiter would learn the ways of the Feylands and become capable of survival amid the hostile environment. However, that is not even considering the fauna and native peoples of the Feylands, commonly known as the Faerie or Fey. Such creatures would often be just as viscious as the vegetation, with a hint of trickery and deception added. Although some Fey were intelligent and could be negotiated with, only the most savvy charlatans would take up such a feat. Within the wilds of the Feylands, the clans of the Pentiter would build up a city reminiscient of Ansulf at the base of Mount Karar'at amid the densest jungels of all the Wraith Globe. The city would become known as Feyll, a homage to Ansulf and the hope it provided, while the jungles surrounding would become known as the Bed of Roses, as it was a favorite place for honeymooners in the fifth and sixth ages seeking a more exotic location despite its inherent dangers.
During the sixth age, much of the Shadowfell remained shrouded in mystery. A pestilence seemed to hang low over the grey and desolate crags of that place, a darkness that crept around corners and snuffed out lights, driving all within it to depravity and madness. Although a great majority of the Shadowfell looked much like the Material Plane, everything was subtly unnatural to the senses. The ways in which leaves rustled on trees and water flowed within creeks, all of it was so close to being right, and yet it was so very wrong. The way that the stars themselves seemed to be twisted so slightly that it was hardly noticeable. Such reality, even if only apparent to the subconscious, would prove taxing on the unprepared mind. Above all else, the Shadowfell was unease itself, nurturing madness within all it touched. Nonetheless, those with strong wills and wise minds would look past this unease and manage to eke out a living on the unnatural creatures who stalked the dark and abhorred the light.
As time passed and more inadvertently stepped from the shadows of the Material Plane to those of the Shadowfell, various small nations formed throughout, but none stood taller or more absolute than that of Larvi. Born from the Yuan-Ti fleeing from the Lord’s Rebellion in the first age, what began as a small coalition bent on survival amidst the madness of the Shadowfell grew into something far larger. In truth, Serbantu slave masters who had remained loyal to Artukos in the first age gave their lives for the Wraith Lord’s bidding, not daring to flee even in the face of their own demise. Those who did flee and would become the fathers and mothers of Larvi were instead indebted to another being of immense power. Larvi’s Yuan-Ti high priestess, Zetezeis Novus, would spread her people as well as her faith all throughout the Shadowfell, a belief which harkened to a coming apocalypse that would descend upon all but the Yuan-Ti and their closest allies.
The Shifting Sands, an echo of the change present within the Material Plane, would prove a nearly impossible environment to survive in unprepared, causing the first Mortal outposts to only crop up during the great pilgrimage of the fifth age. Churned by some great force deep below, these dunes would slowly move and twist as this invisible force dictated, each grain of sand never finding itself in the same place twice. Half eroded monuments and architecture would sometimes emerge from the great dunes, mirroring the rise of great cities within the Material Plane that would all eventually sink back into the dunes at their time. Many pilgrims believed the Shifting Sands to run far deeper than meets the eye, perhaps even with the possibility of subterranean pockets of empty space capable of sustaining life. Beyond speculation, there would be no sign of native life within the Shifting Sands; However, surely something of intelligence must be behind such an elegant yet surgical stirring of the sands…
The Stagnant Stones, an echo of the constant present within the Material Plane, would serve as harrowing reminder of how beautiful and necessary the motion of Artukos’ creation was. It was a shattered landscape, as if countless perfect stone sculptures of the entirety of Material Plane at every moment had been violently fused and shattered together, leaving none whole. Contained within this landscape that had no motion and yet was crumbling nonetheless, fragments of the world past and present could be seen. As time crawled forward in the Wraith Globe, one would blink and perhaps a fragment of that new moment’s sculpture would be there, but in reality it had always been there. There would be no color or growth, only perfectly cut grey stonework immaculately formed to mimic its twin in the Material Plane. The only thing that could even be compared to life here would be the stone depictions of living beings, which would sometime move according to some unseen whims when no one was looking.
The nature of these four echoes was different than that of the Material Plane. Events affecting the natural world did not occur directly, instead, the events within the Wraith Globe would be reflected in its echoes. One such location within the Feylands created in this way was the Hyalus Wastes. During the infancy of the Tyranny of Dragons, the remaining forces of the nation fo Khazan would hold one last offense against Dragonkind within the Northwest deserts of their nation. The forces of Khazan would be utterly scorched in this encounter, and the sand underneath them would burn so hot that it would turn to brittle greenish glass in some places. And thus, the Hyalus Wastes would form within the Feylands, a sea of black sand that immediately turned to jagged glass as the sun touched its surface each morning and melted back into sand as the sun set.
The Omen of the Serbantu
"For what can go unconsumed against the all-consuming? Who can hope to fathom the unfathomable? Such is the insurmountable nature of our savior, who has promised our people and our allies cataclysm upon their enemies. Such is the wish of The Serbantim: Have faith, expand, and devour all in your path. "
- Zetszeis Novus, High Priestess of Larvi
To briefly return to something I mentioned in my previous remarks. The faith of the Yuan-Ti and the Shadowfell nation of Larvi were not a new belief, for their foundations were built during the days of the Lord’s Rebellion. And this old belief was not in its waning years, for it would twist the fate of the Wraith Globe until its very end.
In the first age, one of the Mortals who climbed the Trial of the Disobedient and defeated Koudouni had been a disgraced Yuan-Ti named Alleyu, a skilled warrior who had received a vision from a being outside of the Wraith Globe, one of the Greater Beings of the Far Realm. This two-headed serpent known as The Serbantim, the Great Devourer, told Alleyu that Artukos had stolen the Yuan-Ti’s form from that, and her people’s true place was within The Serbantim’s embrace. She was told to spread this word and tell her brethren the truth, killing all who would not believe. From this, Alleyu would climb through the Trial of the Disobedient with the likes of Razwind Vowlere, spreading the wisdom she had been given to all the Serbantu she found upon her travels.
Upon reaching the Citadel of Wraiths and defeating Koudouni, Alleyu would fall into a sudden trance, during which the Serbantim dictated her final instructions. Alleyu would gather all of the Yuan-Ti awaiting the return of Serbantim and lead them into the deepest shadows of Artukos’ palace, where they would be safe for a time. Then the Yuan-Ti must multiply, growing and exercising their faith in preparation for the coming of their Great Devourer to melt away all their opponents. In that moment Alleyu would be given a new name, Zetszeis Novus, and a second serpentine head would sprout from her neck, ensuring her place as The Serbantim’s chosen priestess. Zetszeis would have little time as she awoke, gathering as many of her fellow believers as she could before delving back into the depths of the Trial of the Disobedient, leading the Serbantu into their new home within the Shadowfell.
The brutal Yuan-Ti would learn to thrive within the unease of the Shadowfell and would even come to learn from it. Building on their history as masters of the masses, they found that there was no tool greater than unease to control the mind. As early as the second age they began to open peepholes into the Material Plane, intending to invade their rightful home after the arrival of The Serbantim. Their staging grounds would be located at the epicenter of the continent Ixthra, where there was a pool so deep that the murky shadows at its deepest reaches formed a pathway to the Shadowfell.
From her altar of bone and crystallized venom, Zetezeis Novus would expand her people’s nation, a nation of brutal curiosity. Many of the Mortals who were unknowingly pulled into the Shadowfell were hunted down by the Yuan-Ti and captured, but instead of being tortured, they were exalted as guests of honor amongst the people of Larvi. Under their new deity, the serpentfolk of the Wraith Globe had gained a new philosophy, a belief that power could be gained from those they devoured. These outsiders would be welcomed for a time, and in that time Zetezeis Novus and the other priests and priestesses of The Serbantim would ask many questions concerning, the history, culture, and strategies. After their exltation as a fattened calf, each and every one of these guests would be ritually sacrificed to the apetite of The Serbantim, yet another people devoured not only by the Serbantu but also by the one they worshipped.
As the pilgrimage of the fifth age reached the Shadowfell, the Yuan-Ti of Larvi would be underprepared for such a massive number of sacrifices, and wholly unprepared to circulate information so that news of such bloody practices did not spread. So instead, Zetezeis made a choice that a number of the Yuan-Ti would despise; The high priestess chose to welcome the other Finite Races as neighbors in the Shadowfell. If Larvi could not sacrifice these visitors, they would welcome them in and control them that way. The small provinces of Strien, Zanmir, and Soglac would be formed, but they would be simple puppets of Larvi, extremities used to collect information as a sacrifice to their diety. There would still be ritual sacrifices made in the capital of Larvi, at the peak of the Temple of Zetesis, but knowledge of such sacrifices and the true being they were made in the name of would be kept away from all but the nation's most trusted allies.
The Final Conquest of the Last Queen
"Not many relics are left over from times before the Lord's Hammerblow, but Urgyzarlou, the last of the Seven Giant Spider Queens, is one of them. Since retreating to the Underdark, she has had time to build up her forces, and now none have the bravery to face her again. Who knows, maybe one day someone will gain the bravery or foolhardiness, depending on your outlook, to silence an evil that has grown and lived on for far too long."
- Divurtur, High Mage of Divination
As Mortal eyes were turned to the stars and places beyond, the ground below their very feet would rumble once again, catching the nations of the Material Plane unawares. Whether caught up in the ideals or potential profits of the age’s great pilgrimage, nations and individuals alike would be so far looking that it would turn to shortsightedness in a mere moment.
After her escape at Bharudar, the last Giant Spider Queen would find her foothold within the Underdark again. The Realms of Webs would recede from Mortal perceptions, and yet it would remain untarnished in the deepest caverns of the Feylands. There it would fester, becoming a network of invisible web strands so far reaching that Urgyzarlou's network of information reached throughout the majority of the Feylands. Any assortment of creatures, both prey and predator, would be oblivious to the danger surrounding them until they felt the pull of invisble strings on their body, trapping them and sending signals to all the minions of Urgyzarlou within a mile. She would make various dealings with the most powerful Faerie within the Feylands, for her immense psychic magics could unravel even the most hidden seditions.
Such beings as the Prince of Frost, a Lordborn of Cryas fallen from his dominion, and Plaeneth, a spirit coalesced from a cumulation of the fumes of death itself, would loosely ally themselves with Urgyzarlou, although such alliances would be uneasy at best. However, as time passed, the legions of Urgyzarlou would grow stronger, and she would prepare herself to reclaim the six artifacts which the Mortals had so brashly trapped the souls of her sisters within. An opportunity would arise during the Tyranny of Dragons, but she would miss her chance as Plaeneth swooped in ahead of her, eager to gather such powerful souls born from death twice over. Plaeneth and Urgyzarlou would wage war against one another within the Feylands, but neither side would prevail as the last Giant Spider Queen missed her chance and the Order of Wizardry regained control over her sisters' souls once more. With their watch ever vigilant once more, Urgyzarlou would have to wait until the High Mages' attention was drawn away again.
And such a moment would indeed arise in the fifth age, as the Mortals looked to the seas and stars. Readying her hordes once more, Urgyzarlou and her forces would emerge from the Underdark and out of Bharudar, heading East to the capital of the Order of Wizardry, Ozryn, to reclaim the six bone dice containing her sisters. However, this would be nothing like the battles of conquests of the third age. The hordes of spider had grown tenfold since the Giant Spider Queens' first ascent to the surface, and the last queen was no longer intent on tyranny over the nations. Urgyzarlou would leave nothing but bones in her wake, for the Finite Races were no longer even worthy to be her slaves under the Scourge. They were simply vermin that must be exterminated before they became a nuisance.
over the following days, the arachnid forces of the queen would tear the countryside apart, leaving none alive. The High Mages would call out to the other nations for help, but few would arrive to reinforce the capital of Ozryn before the invading force was upon them. As Urgyzarlou approached the hilly fortications of Ozryn, surrounded by a frothing tide of her children, it could be seen that a crown of splintered wood was placed upon her enormous bulbous head, skewered with the heads of each and every Mortal she had devoured. The line was held for a time, but ladders of web were placed against stone, and the swarm below began to slowly climb upwards. Where one fell dead, seven claws sprouted from it, severed hands of Mortals that would soon become fully grown spiders. The waves of black hairy bodies and vibrant orange markings beat time and time again against the marble walls of Ozryn until they finally gave out with one last wail.
Flying on swift winds straight from Bharudar and following the trail of destruction left behind, The Wings would appear unexpectedly to aid the city, hurling down motes of magic upon the hordes and raining down its shimmerings scales like rain upon the Mortals of the Ozryn, granting them greater control over their magic. As The Wings shed many of its scales, a beautfiul body as white as a cloud would reveal itself, billowing and twisting like that of immaculate curtains in the wind. However, it was not enough. Urgyzarlou and her children grew steadily closer to the Chamber of Courtiers, the meeting place and residence of the High Mages. The Wings would drift downwards, closer to the fray until they perched atop the balcony of the chambers as Urgyzarlou approached. At the gates of the chambers also stood five champions of the nation, the last line of defense against the wave of legs. However, they would not be honored, and their names would be forgotten amidst the overwhelming destruction.
The Wings would take their Mortal form, the same form they had taken along the revelling streets of Gaudent. floating slowly down to the steps below, she would give the last Giant Spider Queen one final warning.
You cannot kill the children of magic. Even if you try, you will only anger the foundations of this world that birthed the fumes.
With a deep and bellowing scoff from their leader the wave pressed onwards, hoping to smother these six solitary defenders in one crest. Their magic all but spent and scattered through their scales, the Wings would fall, but their magic would endure. The five sentinels of Ozryn would also fall, but they would each be reborn as a hand of the being to come.
As Urgyzarlou hunched low and stepped into the Chamber of Courtiers, the five High Mages, the leading council of the Order of Wizardry, stood before her at the center of the circular audotorium, the faint light of the dying sun reflecting through the glass panes above and down onto their wizened forms. In unison, they would speak to the queen, the being of magic exiled along with her unnatural school of arcane psychometry:
We address you, creature of the earth, adept of the forbidden magics of the mind. Hear our words through these vessels who have shed their hunger for all save the arcane fumes: the design of the one who set this world in motion dictates that neither you nor your sisters will live to see the conclusion of the First Phantasmagoria. As the one's forever loyal hound, we will help to carry out their will.
Urgyzarlou would not comprehend these words, nor would she care for them in the slightest. Her objective was clear: regain the sisters who these ancient fools had stolen from her so long ago. These acts of intimidation and trickery would not stop her so close to her goal, she thought. But she was wrong, for she did not understand the greater design.
With a fearsome shriek she dove blindly at the mages, using her various legs and mandibles to skewer the five Mortals in only a few moments. They did not even attempt to escape as they fell, pooling in their own blood as the life left their eyes. Pausing for a moment to discern that the moment was not a dream, Urgyzarlou let out a triumphant cry that wove through all the streets of Ozryn, signalling the defeat of the Order of Wizardry. However, Urgyzarlou's adversary was no longer a mortal nation, it was a being far beyond her understanding. As the blood of the High Mages pooled into one mass, it began to bubble and the frail frames of the mages dissolved into the pool. The pool began to rise, gain volume and mass and stretching like a length of rope as it coiled around itself before undoing itself effortless. Crimson blood began to shimmer as it shifted to and from every color imaginable until it settled into a familiar emerald green. Errupting from the end of this coil with a loud sound burst a feathered head like that of a serpent or a bird, and the Last Queen of the Giant Spiders turned back to see the piercing eyes of a near omniscient being.
Those eyes, cut like prismatic jewel of both every color and no color. Those feathers and scales intermingled, shining a vibrant emerald and bristling in waves. Those ten talons along its length, each exploding with a unique and overpowering scent of arcane purity. This being was not of the Wraith Globe nor the Far Realm. It knew of places further beyond, its gaze said so. In a single instant Urgyzarlou felt every part of her body screaming at her that this fight was far beyond her, and so without a thought she skittered like a common insect avoiding the spade. However, its user would not be so gracious as to spare the pest. The Arcane Serpent's talons extended, ten ghostly projections of its claws grasping for Urgylzarlou. The spider shrieked as it evaded its pursuer but not with a cost. Three of the talons tore into exoskeleton as three of Urgyzarlou's legs were severed from her fat body, and yet she continued to limp out of the Chambers of the Courtiers, calling for her children to defend her. Before they could act, beams of light lept from the earth, forming a solid cage around the spider as the Arcane Serpent slithered through the air as if it were water, circling around the trapped queen as her children hissed and spat venom up towards the serpent.
just as the earth birthed you, the earth will do away with you.
As this was said, the earth below Urgyzarlou and her hordes rumbled ravenously, and the earth below opened up like a great mouth, ready to swallow the queen and her squires whole. With one last pitiful shriek, the ground collapsed in on itself, and the last Queen of the Giant Spiders was no more.
A Precursor to The Fall
"And now we, the Wardens of Dolor, will pass our judgement. Let us start from the beginning, shall we?"
- The Trial of the Dream That Never Was
As the smoke rising from the city of Ozryn cleared, all signs of the Arcane Serpent, the High Mages, and Urgyzarlou had vanished. With no one to lead their nation, a number of powerful grand mages, including Radrias Farstride and Pragmatic Prasinus would step up to take control, and yet none would emerge victorious as the nation of mages was fractured irrevocably without the High Mages. In the following decades the Order of Wizardry would fade away, replaced with small academic provinces scattered throughout land claimed by no nation. Many of the mages of the late Order of Wizardry would choose to explore their own interests, dabbling in affairs across the Wraith Globe and beyond. Some would choose to become hired contractors of nations such as Algos, Ucrua, and Necrotus, taking up roles ranging from the mundane to the extraordinary. Some would choose to carve out spaces within the flow of the Astral Expanse, creating spaces and paradises of their own while fading away from the happenings of the outside world.
However, the most influential in the coming ages would choose to be swept up in the Astral tides, journeying to the Sixteen Stars of Viabaas' Ring and all that lay between. While some would become more poet than academic, documenting their travels and studies in prose, others would engrain themself within the cosmology of the world, hoping to udnerstand the fabric of the Wraith Globe. From these studies, one prominent group known simply as the Architects of Grief would emerge as the first Mortal creators of a self-sustaining star to rival that of the sixteen, a plane of imprisonment known as Dolor.
Although it did not shine as brightly as the sixteen stars of Viabaas' Ring, Dolor would stand as testament to the capabilities of the arcane. Containing five layers, Dolor would act as a holding cell for all who had or would cause immeasurable pain to the peoples of the Wraith Globe. The Architects of Grief would find five wardens and a sole guardian to serve within the innermost layer of Dolor, which was called Makosa: The Fragrant Caretaker, The Pale Prince, The Black Wyrm, The Sacrifical Lamb, and The Maw's Madman. Each warden would judge the convicted on a different standard, ensuring what the Architects of Grief described as "an all-encompassing justice." Their guardian would be none other than Tiktalak, the Greater Being of Nuclear Flame, now having fully realized her destructive power with help from the Order of Art.
The Wardens of Dolor would use powerful divining born from the studies of High Mage Divurtur himself to seek out Mortals who may cause immense strife and pain in their foreseeable, plucking them from their lives and damning them to an entirety within the layers of Dolor. There they would be swallowed by the grief of actions that they never committed.
Other mages of the Order of Wizardry would also find renown amidst the outer ring of sixteen stars, but none to the degree of the Architects of Grief.
Another Path - Age of the Debaucher
"The sweet embrace of Mozuir shall rock me asleep once more, a comfort in the cold of night. Bring me to quiet rest, my Lord, let our dealings remain guiltless until my last breath, not by age but instead by blade or blight."
- Parting Note, Written by Fenirthir Irly
The following is an account from the dreams of Mozuir, the High Lord of Death. Such accounts represent events that never occurred, timelines cut in their infancy. Such worlds are mere phantasms now. Members of the Lordly Pantheon sometimes dreamed of such possibilities, and the following is one such vision.
Although unlikely, perhaps the esoterica learned by Fenirthir Irly did not remain a secret of the Irly Line. Perhaps, a greedy noble of Algorian lineage would learn of Irly's Trek and play a dangerous game of exploitation against Fenirthir, a war of intrigue that would conclude with the knowledge of age immortality being shared across all the Wraith Globe.
There was a keen noble by the name of Lunare Tonth, born among the nobility in Algos' capital city of Vuekson. As an aristrocrat born during the pilgrimages out onto the Astral Expanse, Tonth learned early the potency of passion when one was concerned with making profits. Passion and devotion to a cause or idea could cause individuals to make otherwise rash decisions, and in that margin of the irrational lay a potential for monetary gain. Within the plutocracy of Algos, such a mentality would help Tonth to quickly rise to the highest circles of Vuekson through business in the cities of pilgrimage, high enough to even allow him to gain the attention of Fenirthir Irly, the ruler of Algos herself. The Irly and Tonth families would grow close because of Fenirthir's and Lunare's connection, but where Fenirthir would see a like-minded businessman and perhaps even more, Lunae would soon see an opportunity unlike any other open up. In time, it would be decided by both families that their bond would be made into one of marriage, and the ruler of Algos would become the bride to young Lunare Tonth. Nonetheless, the Irly name would endure, as names with higher esteem and wealth within the nation of Algos would be those chosen to remain.
When Lunare showed curiosity as to why Fenirthir refused to remove her circlet of dull green scales regardless of the situation, she would hesitantly share the secret that the Lord of Death had shared with her. In another dream dreamt by Mozuir perhaps Lunare would have kept such a precious secret between him and Irly, but this particular dream would not be born from such a showing of loyalty.
Having gained this utterly priceless knowledge, Lunare Irly would take complete advantage of this unique position he found himself in. He would blackmail his wife, describing how he would divulge the secret she had shared with him if she did not transfer the her and her family's wealth slowly and steadily.
Fenirthir's reaction to this would havbe many facets. When she first gained knowledge of Irly's Trek, she had intended to share it with her people, making their dream of outliving Dragonkind come true. However, with the rise of Ahra Katash, such a precaution was no longer necessary, and yet the knowledge that Fenirthir had tugged at the back of her mind, leading to her deeper motivation: she wished to find a way to purify the darkness within the Finite Races. Perhaps sucha darkness would fade with time, and even if it didn't age immortality presented an opportunity to search for such a thing. As she gained renown within her home nation and was crowned as their leader, she set her eyes upon the edges of the Wraith Globe and completed Irly Trek, but her infatuation with the beautiful and cunning Lunare and distrace her from her goal, making her feel as if perhaps the way to purify the void within was by simply living. With this sudden betrayal, this blooming fantasy would wither on the vine, and Fenirthir would once more be intent on searching for a method of purifying the soul. With nothing but her clothes and a bit of money to her name, Fenirthir Irly would flee her broken marriage, and as a last attempt to scare his wife into giving him all her wealth, Lunare Irly would share the secret of Irl'y Trek with the world. Alas, Fenirthir was no longer concerned with Algos or any other Mortal nation, for this last heartbreak had not only shattered her trust in Lunare, but also in any chance of the Finite Races redeeming themselves without a great change.
the pilgrimage to the Astral Expanse would shift to the Phase Lands instead and a race for the masses to claim age immortality would ensue. Fenirthir Irly would vanish from the stage of major players within the world, dissappearing with the now elderly Chronulus Zerleas to seek out a method of purifying Mortal souls without the extremity of death and undeath.
Lunare Irly would be the successor of Fenirthir's throne, becoming the new ruler of Algos and making a market of immortality, a market controlled and manipulated by him and him alone.
