A Primer on Victory

1790E was a strange year for people in the Valley, but most years in the Valley are pretty strange. Adventurers and guards must learn to combat whatever new nasties present themselves, and the common folk need to make some adjustments to their lives to keep themselves safe.
To an average farmer, the difference between a hungry hyena-zombie and a rabid dire wolf is pretty minimal. Neither will be easily driven off from a swift blow from a pitchfork, and both can be stopped by waiting behind a reinforced door until they go away.
When devils and demons are involved, things get more dire, but actually make life a little easier. If a devil wants to kill you, there’s not a lot you can do about it, so you might as well get some planting done and clean out the stables.
What made 1790E unique was the sheer variety of threats, from the minor to the apocalyptic. For most people, this was a time of waiting inside and hoping things would settle down a bit. As the year wore on, it became clear that not only were things getting worse, but they might never return to normal. The people of the Valley are a sturdy lot, and turned to the only things that are guaranteed to help; prayer and preparation.
The Fallen Sword church in Dejune saw crowds every day, as people turned to the good gods to pray for strength; both for themselves and the divine. The temple also functioned as a kind of news outlet, where priests would speak about their god, and what the divine and their followers were doing to combat the evils of the world.
There was a renewed interest in Thyr, the God of Kings, as Illden had just retaken the throne of Skor, which in turn used its massive armies and resources to extend a layer of protection across the Valley. A small but growing number turned to the stories of old, where the monarchs of Skor had saved the Valley in times of trouble.
Muir also saw something of a resurgence. The news that her holy artifact, the Bloody Hand, had been recovered by a lady named Kingsley did much to bolster morale. Like the coming of powerful monarchs, people recovering lost artifacts in times of trouble also had a strong historical precedent, and was seen as a sign that the tide was about to turn.
By mid summer, things had reached breaking point. Demons appeared and disappeared all over the Valley without rhyme or reason. The dead refused to stay dead for even a few hours before rising up again. Elementals, a rare sight in the Valley, would coalesce out of thin air and cause forest fires or tornadoes before they could be stopped. Those who could fight did, usually as patrols and scouts so the more powerful soldiers could triage threats. Those that could not retreated to castle walls or storm cellars and waited.
Things reached a terrible climax on the 124th day of 1790E, a day that would later be known as King’s Day. Any semblance of order broke down, as anything that died rose moments later as an undead, and demons began to pour in, seemingly without end.
Then suddenly it was over. The undead fell to the ground and lay unmoving. The demons vanished, leaving behind nothing by clouds of smoke and small piles of ash. Things were still.
News began to filter through that the heroes had done it. Mirrax Marines’ own Captain Killingsworth has slayed the mastermind behind Orcus’s plan! The Great Downward Engineering Company had fought the avatar of Orcus himself, and perished in the assault. Archmage Fondon had gone toe to toe with the Demon Lord of the Undead himself, and driven him back.
Tales of heroism were diluted by rumor almost immediately, but no one minded terribly much. For now, they were safe, and the truth could wait until the wounded were taken care of.
Many adventurers clamored to tell of how their action on King’s Day had secured peace and safety for the Valley, and most of these were easily discounted or disproven. One story however came from an unusual source, and told and even more unusual tale.
A fey princess named Erika said that Lady Kingsley had not fought alongside the Great Downward, but had stepped through the planes to fight Orcus directly, and in doing so become a god. Pixies are not known for their honesty, but the story was so strange and comprehensive it was hard to dismiss. Diviners cast their stones and cards, and Priests spoke to their gods, and all signs pointed to the truth of Erika’s Tale.
So it was that an unlikely new religion began to form around Erika and the tale of the Engineered Princess. It was a rocky and unstable thing, as Erika’s chaotic nature did not mesh well with the established church of Muir. Still, a rough account of events was eventually compiled into something like a holy book, and a statue to The Engineered Princess went up alongside the statue of Bofred, flanking the Fallen Sword with the two of the greatest fallen heroes the Valley had ever known. The inscription at the base read “She did not go quietly, and she did not go alone”. Less than a year later, the first Engineered Paladin took her vows beneath the statue, and promised to uphold the values and virtues that Kingsley had stood for. 
The fortunes of the common folk of the Valley began to improve. The winter of that year was mild, and the wildlife somewhat less aggressive. As the seasons passed, people found the grass to be a little greener, the nights to be a little warmer, and the land a little safer.
Things were not so good for the adventurer and noble classes however. When Regent Rolth had fled Skor, he’d taken nearly all of its wealth with him (although it was technically his to begin with). Tsar had been devastated by the events leading up to King’s Day, and the Valley needed a lot of rebuilding at a time when there was little money with which to do so. Politicking and infighting began immediately, and the first assassination was not far behind.
By 1793E, magic had begun to unravel. Powerful arcane spells began to be less effective, and many golems and ancient wards ceased functioning. For the clerics, their connection to the divine had also weakened. Summoning spells, as well as those of augury became unreliable, almost as if the mortal world had drifted too far from the outer planes. Worse, spells of transport and resurrection first stuttered, and then began to sometimes fail completely. Once it was clear that returning from death amounted to more than a painful experience and a 7,000 gold fee, assassinations and fatal accidents both climbed higher than ever in the memory of the Valley. This phenomenon was worldwide, and scholars from all over the world came to the Valley to try to establish the cause. Many blamed “mortal tampering”, accusing Valley heroes of killing gods and messing with the divine order. No one was formerly accused, and by the time the Great Downward Engineering Company returned to the Valley in 1795E people were doing their best to cope with this new, mortal paradigm.
Many of the richest and most powerful in the Valley fled east to Lundar, where divine magic was somewhat stronger and death less likely to be permanent. Others hid themselves away out of fear, willing to try and wait the spellblight out.
By 1800E (where the story of Lycia and CnC begins), things are stable, although they haven’t improved much. Some high level arcanistry is no longer functional, and divine spells of resurrection and reincarnation work poorly. People can be brought back, but there is often a delay between the spell being cast and their return. Those that do come back are often weakened or warped by the experience. People tell stories of those returned not being who they once were, in nature and demeanor.
While farmers enjoy the unusually fertile soil and artisans work in a robust economy, an air of fear grips those who thought they were too rich or too talented to ever fear death.