Welcome to Survival

Sapphire Peak

Four silken robed lios dweomercraefters stand… about a pale oaken table…..glyphs shimmer along its edge..blue green and gold…the surface of the table…shifts and ripples… then settles…the four place squares upon the table….nine…forming one larger square….no…not a square…a…map.

 

The pieces flow…forming one..the continent…Athael….red and green runes hover above places of calm or places of strife….most are red…and have been for many years….

 

The four peruse the world as is…. and speak as one…..in a shadowed corner a darkness given form whispers each word in tandem…

 

“The prime hold has fallen…the wound will open the knot unravel…see it built again…with the blood of heroes its mortar”

 

“The voice of the gods…taken…the gods have enacted fate…descend the ladder and save the voice”

 

“The djinn and efreet the dao and marid…again stride the sands of Kaleem…the elemental khaleefs rise again….let sun kissed man weep under their yoke”

 

“The north groans beneath demon embraced gretch…the caravans burn….the screams of possessed shamen nailed upon wind carved tree dance upon the air…..”

 

“The tower ever crimson..ever sanguine….is wounded….its folk a pale shadow of their previous self….the hearth grows cold….nobility once golden and flaunted…bow to imperial edict….the rose and cross flutter together in the wind”

 

“The earthy giants of the heim….no chairs are propelled by iron shod boot….no songs of war and joy echo about the meadhalls….old blood has taken hold….a prophet in crimson…red is his wode….his warboard…. his beard….his name…son of Dokheim…Varjarl Uf Hammer Unt godz”

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