The Vast Character Creation and Recruiting Thread
May 21, 2020 14:07:44 GMT -8
Post by Kvard51 on May 21, 2020 14:07:44 GMT -8
The Vast
In a land on the brink of destruction, the fate of all rests in the hands of a small group of mortals. The world suffers under the shade of a forgotten past and the yoke of an uncertain future.
Three centuries ago, the forces of inhumanity, of hatred and fell power, united to deliver a deathblow to the lands of mortal-kind. They nearly succeeded. Hordes of sub-humans swarmed the civilized lands, the skies filled with the smoke of a hundred cities burning, and behind them marched the forces of Djujarnan Imperium driving the madness and slaughter. These forces ripped a hole through civilization and crushed the mighty kingdoms of man before them. This onslaught drove the remnants of mortal-kind to the western edge of the known world, to the very shores of the Turbid Sea.
It was here, where there was no further escape, that the kingdoms of mortals finally put aside their differences and stood as one. The elves, dwarves, halflings, and man. The few gnomes who still survived, and the remnants of scattered tribes of goodly people of assorted races. They stood and faces extinction on the sands of the Bitter Coast, and one and all they called upon their gods to aid them in this last battle. And those gods wept to see the end of the people they had made and turned their faces away.
But still, mortal-kind stood. They stood as the masses of goblinkind crashed against them wave after wave of frothing, howling surf. They stood as the ravenous orcs hurled themselves into the hastily built walls and battlements as if to tear them down with their own tusks and claws. They stood as the demonic drow unleashed hellish magics to rain down on them like the monsoons of the Turbid Sea drowned the malarial swamps of Sodden to the south. They stood until it was impossible that they stand anymore.
And then, as the goodly folk mustered themselves for the final battle, as hordes of goblin and orc and drown, of fell beast and monsters flooded the field to end it, rend it, crush it, chew it… driven by the evil men of Djujarna, one god chose to act. Aeron the Corruptor became Aeron the Saviour! He turned back to watch as those who had turned their back on him for a millennia stood to face their death, and he was moved by the courage of these mortals. He cast a flaming volcano to the earth, destroying the vast forces of evil and sundering the land in twain. He caused an impassible mountain range to rise up on the Eastern Escarpment to divide the Djujarnan Imperium from the ragged survivors of mortal-kind. And he energized the remaining goodly folk to take the fight to the scattered and leaderless tribes of Foul Folk who still remained, destroying them, for the most part. And they fell on their faces and worshiped Aeron the Saviour. And they never brought offerings to the other gods again.
For over two hundred years, the civilized world caught its breath, marshaled its strength and rebuilt what they could, founding the Kingdom of Auredain. But now the black smoke from the Imperium forges of war fills the eastern sky again across The Vast, the great wasteland that has grown up between the Barrier Mountains and the old empire of the east. Prophecy speaks of a Final Reckoning between the people of Auredain and the evil Emperor of Djujarnum. And the signs show it is nigh. The land needs heroes.
Are you them?
In a land on the brink of destruction, the fate of all rests in the hands of a small group of mortals. The world suffers under the shade of a forgotten past and the yoke of an uncertain future.
Three centuries ago, the forces of inhumanity, of hatred and fell power, united to deliver a deathblow to the lands of mortal-kind. They nearly succeeded. Hordes of sub-humans swarmed the civilized lands, the skies filled with the smoke of a hundred cities burning, and behind them marched the forces of Djujarnan Imperium driving the madness and slaughter. These forces ripped a hole through civilization and crushed the mighty kingdoms of man before them. This onslaught drove the remnants of mortal-kind to the western edge of the known world, to the very shores of the Turbid Sea.
It was here, where there was no further escape, that the kingdoms of mortals finally put aside their differences and stood as one. The elves, dwarves, halflings, and man. The few gnomes who still survived, and the remnants of scattered tribes of goodly people of assorted races. They stood and faces extinction on the sands of the Bitter Coast, and one and all they called upon their gods to aid them in this last battle. And those gods wept to see the end of the people they had made and turned their faces away.
But still, mortal-kind stood. They stood as the masses of goblinkind crashed against them wave after wave of frothing, howling surf. They stood as the ravenous orcs hurled themselves into the hastily built walls and battlements as if to tear them down with their own tusks and claws. They stood as the demonic drow unleashed hellish magics to rain down on them like the monsoons of the Turbid Sea drowned the malarial swamps of Sodden to the south. They stood until it was impossible that they stand anymore.
And then, as the goodly folk mustered themselves for the final battle, as hordes of goblin and orc and drown, of fell beast and monsters flooded the field to end it, rend it, crush it, chew it… driven by the evil men of Djujarna, one god chose to act. Aeron the Corruptor became Aeron the Saviour! He turned back to watch as those who had turned their back on him for a millennia stood to face their death, and he was moved by the courage of these mortals. He cast a flaming volcano to the earth, destroying the vast forces of evil and sundering the land in twain. He caused an impassible mountain range to rise up on the Eastern Escarpment to divide the Djujarnan Imperium from the ragged survivors of mortal-kind. And he energized the remaining goodly folk to take the fight to the scattered and leaderless tribes of Foul Folk who still remained, destroying them, for the most part. And they fell on their faces and worshiped Aeron the Saviour. And they never brought offerings to the other gods again.
For over two hundred years, the civilized world caught its breath, marshaled its strength and rebuilt what they could, founding the Kingdom of Auredain. But now the black smoke from the Imperium forges of war fills the eastern sky again across The Vast, the great wasteland that has grown up between the Barrier Mountains and the old empire of the east. Prophecy speaks of a Final Reckoning between the people of Auredain and the evil Emperor of Djujarnum. And the signs show it is nigh. The land needs heroes.
Are you them?
