Post by Samira on Jun 1, 2009 17:42:59 GMT -5
Shard~~~
They call it Shard because it is a broken world; a fragment of what it once was; of what it might have yet been. It was called Eastundreland, long ago in the youth of the world. It was a flourishing land, filled with wise scholars, great philosophers, and brilliant mathematicians and scientists. Skilled artists, sculptors, and literary geniuses met in the wide plazas of the cities, and wise men lived in solitude in the mountains. Their cities were prosperous, beautiful, clean. Their government was successful. Utopian peace reigned supreme.
But Marakh, the High Chancelor, grew greedy, delving too deeply into the dark secrets of Chimara's Stone. He unlocked the power he sought, but it was too great for his strength to wield. Freed from his grip, the loose magical evil of Chimara's Stone ran rampant through Eastundreland, destroying all it passed. Great cities were laid to waste; high towers were crumbled to the dust. Within a week, every great city had been brought to the ground. All that remained were great ruins of stone, like skeletons under the wide sky. Many people were dead, and the High Chancelor was the first to taste the bitter edge of death.
After too long at the cold destruction of Chimera's Stone's evil power, a large band of men gathered together to harness the lethal force; not to use it, but to utterly end it. The task was greater than they anticipated. Only their sacrificial force of will finally destroyed the power-monster, sapping their lives' strength as they defeated the evil loosed by foolish Marakh.
And the world was quiet once more.
*****
There was little left of it. Tiny hamlets. Ruins of great cities. Poor villages. Wilds of woodland, forested mountains, wide fields, sunken swamps.
There were people as well, of course. Children of the race of Men are hardy, and those who endured the curse of Chimara's Stone persevered. But others began to emerge; peoples who had not been there before; peoples begun by the strange magic of the Stone. Elves, sprites, centaurs, fauns. Animals that walked upright and spoke as the children of Men; strange mixed creatures and odd Faery people. And as the time passed, others emerged from the swamps, the woods, the mountains. Dark creatures born of the evil magic of Chimara's Stone. Vampires, werewolves, Dark Elves, orcs. Creatures who feed on flesh and blood, who delight in pain and know no bonds of love or loyalty.
Time passed and the world, set back to a midieval age, progressed slowly. The race of Men grew slowly. They built few great houses and cities, instead farming, hunting; surviving. The cultures of the magical creatures, however, grew more quickly, as did their skills.
Now, nearly a thousand years later, the children of Men live in their small towns and have hardly moved away from their midieval, dark-age survival lifestyle; but the magical races have grown to an ancient and skilled people. They live mostly away from Men, and ever the Light creatures wage a battle for territory and freedom against the Dark creatures.
And Chimara's Stone yet stands. The Dark creatures revere it, and their religion, what little there is of it, revolves round its dark evil. The Light creatures avoid it, oppressed by the sense of evil magic and power that emmenates from it. To the race of Men, it is nothing more than an anomaly, a great black tower of stone rising from the wide, flat southwestern plains of Shard. They have various superstitions regarding it, but they cannot feel its evil, though few pass near it.
And the stone itself, it rises silent, casting its dark shadow over the world as it watches the happenings beneath it.
They call it Shard because it is a broken world; a fragment of what it once was; of what it might have yet been. It was called Eastundreland, long ago in the youth of the world. It was a flourishing land, filled with wise scholars, great philosophers, and brilliant mathematicians and scientists. Skilled artists, sculptors, and literary geniuses met in the wide plazas of the cities, and wise men lived in solitude in the mountains. Their cities were prosperous, beautiful, clean. Their government was successful. Utopian peace reigned supreme.
But Marakh, the High Chancelor, grew greedy, delving too deeply into the dark secrets of Chimara's Stone. He unlocked the power he sought, but it was too great for his strength to wield. Freed from his grip, the loose magical evil of Chimara's Stone ran rampant through Eastundreland, destroying all it passed. Great cities were laid to waste; high towers were crumbled to the dust. Within a week, every great city had been brought to the ground. All that remained were great ruins of stone, like skeletons under the wide sky. Many people were dead, and the High Chancelor was the first to taste the bitter edge of death.
After too long at the cold destruction of Chimera's Stone's evil power, a large band of men gathered together to harness the lethal force; not to use it, but to utterly end it. The task was greater than they anticipated. Only their sacrificial force of will finally destroyed the power-monster, sapping their lives' strength as they defeated the evil loosed by foolish Marakh.
And the world was quiet once more.
*****
There was little left of it. Tiny hamlets. Ruins of great cities. Poor villages. Wilds of woodland, forested mountains, wide fields, sunken swamps.
There were people as well, of course. Children of the race of Men are hardy, and those who endured the curse of Chimara's Stone persevered. But others began to emerge; peoples who had not been there before; peoples begun by the strange magic of the Stone. Elves, sprites, centaurs, fauns. Animals that walked upright and spoke as the children of Men; strange mixed creatures and odd Faery people. And as the time passed, others emerged from the swamps, the woods, the mountains. Dark creatures born of the evil magic of Chimara's Stone. Vampires, werewolves, Dark Elves, orcs. Creatures who feed on flesh and blood, who delight in pain and know no bonds of love or loyalty.
Time passed and the world, set back to a midieval age, progressed slowly. The race of Men grew slowly. They built few great houses and cities, instead farming, hunting; surviving. The cultures of the magical creatures, however, grew more quickly, as did their skills.
Now, nearly a thousand years later, the children of Men live in their small towns and have hardly moved away from their midieval, dark-age survival lifestyle; but the magical races have grown to an ancient and skilled people. They live mostly away from Men, and ever the Light creatures wage a battle for territory and freedom against the Dark creatures.
And Chimara's Stone yet stands. The Dark creatures revere it, and their religion, what little there is of it, revolves round its dark evil. The Light creatures avoid it, oppressed by the sense of evil magic and power that emmenates from it. To the race of Men, it is nothing more than an anomaly, a great black tower of stone rising from the wide, flat southwestern plains of Shard. They have various superstitions regarding it, but they cannot feel its evil, though few pass near it.
And the stone itself, it rises silent, casting its dark shadow over the world as it watches the happenings beneath it.
