Server Lore

## Beginning

From the Great River, through the deserts and wetlands, to the Fertile Lands and beyond. These lands were meant to be a nightmare of all nightmares. They were meant to be a pitiful and horrid end to one's life should they be granted a punishment that may seem harsher than death. To live in the Exiled Lands means to suffer. Each day of life is a fight for survival. This was the case for dozens of years.... until recently that is.

The gods seemed to have turned their gaze upon the harsh lands of exiles. The sun had lessened its intense gaze upon the deserts, the jungle and swamps seemed to fill with even more life, the Fertile Lands returned to its namesake and became earth that all sought after; soil rich for growing and harvesting crops and raising animals. Even the Wight Mounds and the entirety of the frozen lands seemed to change for the better. The Exiled Lands, for the first time in years, seemed to be blessed. People were happy. Everyday wasn’t filled with the sole purpose of fighting just to survive. Villages and kingdoms were able to be built. Former enemies were able to push past differences and make peace. Miracles were born.

These newer times allowed those that lived in exile to focus on something other than survival. Train in smithing, master the art of the hunt, explore places that were previously unreachable. Ruins were scavenged through and cleaned of all relics of old. But there was a single place that many dared not to trespass. The city of Giant-Kings, the very city that lost its name, The Unnamed City. The corrupted sands and laughter of the undead were enough to make any curious explorer abandon their urge to search for treasures unknown. Most explorers would be deterred, but not all. There was one nameless wanderer that dared to traverse the dangers of the city. To search for anything and all Giant-King. And that is exactly what they did. In the bowels of one of the many ruined buildings, a chest was hidden in the sands. A chest that was uncovered by hands that were shaking from excitement. Wiping the corrupted sands off the chest, the wanderer took note of the language carved around the box along with sigils that seemed eerie and off putting. It was clear whatever treasure that laid within was unique and of importance to those that lived in the city years ago. The wanderer calmed himself enough to place his hands on the lid of the chest and begin to force it open. Mossy green light glowed from the chest as a gas escaped its confines. Indirectly breathing in a portion of the gas, the wanderer expected a grim fate. Several long moments passed and the wanderer seemed completely fine. Terrified of a possible dance with death, the wanderer dropped the lid and hurried out of the building, out of the city itself...

Three days passed since the wanderer’s adventure into the The Unnamed City and the events that transpired there finally began to show themselves. It began with the deserts known as The Oasis and Sinner’s Wastelands. The sandstorm that regularly raged across them seemed to increase in intensity. The sun beat down upon the land causing temperatures to rise. What little that grew and lived there decreased in numbers drastically. Even the Great River seemed to have lowered and slowly whittled away to a fraction of what it was. The Jungle and Swamp grew quiet with rain stopping completely. Those that lived in Buccaneer’s Isles seemed to vanish. The great and prosperous Fertile Lands withered to nothing; crop failing in every regard. Corruption spewed forth in the Wight Mounds, calling the walking dead to hunt and terrorize all that had flowing blood. The Northern Valley and Cliffs seemed to freeze over with a constant blizzard that would be a foolish attempt to traverse. No one knew if the Forge, the mighty volcano, was affected by whatever had caused the change in the Exiled Lands.

The land seemed to have been corrupted, becoming a place far more dangerous than even the rumors told, with an everlasting night. Only the wanderer knew, or at least had an idea, of what was happening. They had released a weapon that the Giant-Kings held secret. A weapon that even they never thought to use in their war. A magical plague that essentially brought a sense of doom, an apocalypse, to all those in the Exiled Lands. Living in the lands became a challenge. It became a fight that far surpassed the ones prior. The Edifice Penta came together, pulling their resources, knowledge, and power to try and help the people of exile. The Mercenaries would protect those who were unable to defend themselves, the Merchants and Black Market came together pulling everything they could to help. The Scholars came into the possession of information of an Island not that far off from the Exiled Lands. The Mages worked and manipulated the arcane to create portals for those that wished to travel to this unknown island..