The Shattering

## Primordial destruction of elvenkind

**"When Gaia Alterica was torn asunder, the betrayer struck twice upon Isgorai, overloading Mal'Feirn (The Great Conduit)" -** *Mal'atesh Solfione, elven historian.*

### The legend of the eldest prince

The shattering is the most important event in modern history. The elven emperor Sal'Morei Ashal'anore, had five young sons, fine princes which would suceed him. However Isgorai, the eldest one was deemed unfit to rule, for reasons unknown. His advisor, Nevram ushered him to retaliate to his father's decision by causing a "minor statement" - overloading one of the terraprisms, thus breaking the conduit line and effectively disabling elven magic, he would later prevent its reactivation by taking it hostage with his personal army. Isgorai declined immediately. This plan was far too reckless, and even though he was bittered by his father's decision, the Elven emperor's wisdom far surpassed his own.

But the unruly advisor had other plans and couldn't be held down by the young prince's qualms.

#### So he rode eastward...

It is said that the great elven capital, Meladrin'orashelsin was as big as Kyllambria itself, with buildings made of silver, mithril, gold and jewels. A great palace forged from golden light stood in the center, from it, the benevolent emperor ruled over his people. Peace and prosperity, love and kindness bloomed everywhere. But while the elves lived in harmony and joy, the other races suffered, forced to live in forests, caves and barren coasts, life was harsh and most of them were savages, seldom did some manage to become civilised.

Without the prince's knowledge, Nevram convinced the prince's loyal forces and supporters to flock together and take hold of a terraprism. They rode eastward to the outer reaches of the city.

In the temple of the goddess Celestine, stood the Eastern terraprism, levitating gracefully, bestowed on elvenkind from the gods, channeling powerful primordial magic for all of them to use. The high gates of the ivory temple blasted open, as floods of soldiers stormed in. First the magekillers, extremely potent against wielders of the arcane, they struck down the valiant moon-priestesses with surgical precision, even though the priestly divine magic, trembled with the might of the terraprism, enhanced with the arcane, it was no match for the Ausherian armor, forged from the forbidden metal of the Dark One. From the skies, the young goddess saw her children slaughtered and tried to intervene, not only was she too inexperienced, but it was early day, when her power was weakest, she could not match the strength of the eldritch plate, no light, no magic could escape it. She cried out to her sisters, Kamara and Narathi, they could not hear her pleas, for the night had not come. The accursed advisor had somehow managed to strike a deal with Shol'asen, and now what he wanted stood before him, the immaculate conception of magical refraction, gifted from the gods, what had given magic to elves, what had made them the greatest race, all of this hovered before him. He struck it down, wielding the dark blade, as black tendrils sprung forth, enveloping the prism. The gods were assured that it was impossible to destroy by the hands of mere mortals, but they had not anticipated deals with the divine. As all the soldiers gasped, terrified by the cracks in the terraprism, he smiled gleefuly.

Blinding light, deafening noise, silence.

The conduit shattered, destroying Gaia Alterica in the process, what was left were but crumbs of the once great and prosperous continent, only the broken remains of the great capital surrounded by vast seas. By the irony of Alisrois, the Emperor and all the princes, bar the eldest, had survived, protected by the First prism, it was now completely exhausted of its power, the only one to have withstood the explosion. The elven scholars estimated 90% of all population to have been lost. Mothers roamed the broken streets, mourning, fathers wept and prayed. Society, life, magic, happiness, peace and prosperity, had all vanished with the prisms. The Elves grieved for decades in what came to be known as The Black Century.

Eventually they managed to find a way to rebuild themselves in this chaotic and tragic environment, albeit with only a speck of their former glory.