Arvandor

Reflections of Arvandor is a domed mirrored plane of existence. In times past, an unknown power decided they wanted to never see the land of Arvandor changed and created this reflection that never would. No matter what happens, the reflection will always try to return to what it was before. Creatures will respawn, what is has been made dead will come back, occasionally what is settled will become unsettled again.

Upon entering this plane, players are stripped of the powers they had in their previous realms and worlds. This includes curses such as vampirism, lycanthropy, and undeath. Those who are full blooded celestials, demons, devils, fae, and dragons also find their full-blooded nature is now gone and they are henceforth mortal. They need to pick back up, explore this new world, band together, and settle it.

Many different realms, many different doors, all can lead into this reflection. How did you get here? That is up to you.

### A Third Reflection approaches:

*The being known as the Watcher was restless. The robed figure walked the hall of mirrors, viewing the current favorite canvas. It was wrong, just...wrong. The Watcher was an artist, bringing beings into the canvas and watching the stories play out. But this time...the paint just didn't set right. The carving knife turned in the hand, giving a little cut instead of bringing the sculpture to life.*

*The Watcher paced back and forth between the mirrors, trying to figure out what was wrong. Each being here had been chosen...or chose to be here. Wishing for change, wishing for more, wishing for freedom...or a higher being sent them here for a purpose. Some to be tested, some to be punished. All sent to learn something about themselves, about others, about magic, about morality. No, the issue was not with them so much as it was with those brought to challenge.*

*The dark druids were a disappointment. Chaos was always thought to be a good motivator. And an interesting one. Yet, these seekers of chaos had become boringly...predictable. There was no flare, no innovation. In one of the other hallways, the Watcher had once viewed another landscape where the beings within built structures that scraped the sky and believed that magic was something called science. They called their music rock, which did amuse. But a song lyric from that place beat within the Watcher's mind. "Welcome to the new boss, same as the old boss." It fit here. Relying too much on beings of chaos did not create an interesting canvas, it was leaving a rather insipid mess.*

*It was time for a change. Not a big bang, just a shake of the globe. A little reset if one would. The druids erased and in their place another group would rise. And those still here and those who would be brought in the future would face a new threat and new challenges. The terrain would change but slightly. Once accessable areas would be no more. Then there were the other magical beings...those not like the ones brought here. Those who's magic allowed them to retain their powers. Those graciously allowed that chance to show what they could achieve, or those given refuge due to an interesting spark within. These beings too could have a bigger part to play in the existence of the beings that were the paint to the canvas or the raw clay to be molded.*

*Those already here would be spared...a magical sleep, awakening to find themselves on a shore and starting anew. Weakened yes, but memories would remain. Those who left could easily return, but all returning would still be starting over. As fairness in this fresh new canvas was a must. With the power at the Watcher's fingertips, it would not be a long pause. Just enough to make the changes necessary to correct things, to smooth out the canvas. To make certain that the medium used was the best one. It would cause confusion, yes...but sometimes a little confusion can direct the eye to new discoveries. The Watcher was becoming excited at the thought. Not a destruction, not wreaking havoc, just a small shakeup and new start.*