The Time of Change
Notes of the Royal Historian on the Time of Change
It began three weeks ago, when casters across the land found that their magic had become… erratic. Spells fizzled and petered out, some as they were cast, some even before then. Magic users found it difficult to keep hold to the powers they wielded. Spells memorized only hours before would fade if not used quickly enough, lost back to the Aether.
Those whose magic came from within were even worse off. Sorcerers could feel the magic that dwelt within their very souls fading away, ebbing and flowing on some strange current. To have their birthright itself begin to abandon them caused some to go mad.
Then, three days ago, the magic finally vanished. Across the entire continent not a single spell would ignite, not a single magic item held onto its power. Even some of the beasts of the land, those whose existence was partially maintained by magic itself, were affected. Some keened pitiably, unable to even move without its aid. Others simply died without the magic to sustain them.
Then, precisely ninety three minutes later, magic returned. With it came a reminder of its truly awesome power.
Magic didn’t simply return, it Surged. Magical blades filled with the essence of flame, which once had been sufficient to only cause mild burns, suddenly sprouted great gouts of fire. In some cases this occurred while the blades and other mystic weapons were in the confines of cities, killing dozens instantly and starting blazes which soon spread. Other weapons also flared – blocks of freezing cold, bands of electricity, sometimes areas of pure darkness powered by the darkest of energies.
Magic weapons weren’t the only thing. Wands also exploded, unleashing the stored spells within them in a great rush, shooting fireballs and lightning bolts into the surrounding area.
Some of the worst effects were those that no one would have even thought of. One young priest, moving a small wand containing many charges of healing magic, was overloaded by it, exploding with the force of the healing surge that flashed through his flesh, his form simply unable to handle it. Another was carrying a staff containing the essence of speed. His body eventually vibrated so hard that it accelerated away from itself in every direction at once, literally tearing him apart at the seams.
It wasn’t just items, though, which suffered the consequences. The lost spells returned to each caster, flashing through them just as violently as it did everyone else.
When the dust settled the very fabric of our world had changed. The heroes of legend, the great warriors who walked the land, were dead, destroyed either by their own magic or by the items of great power they carried. Few of any great strength survived, and even those did so more by luck than any great skill. Almost no casters are left, only those who had just begun in the craft, the weakest, having come through these trying times.
The world we knew is forever gone. The world to come will have to be forged by those of us who are left. There are no more heroes left to save us. If we are to survive, we shall have to save ourselves.
The game will begin on the continent of Eden, within the Baskraun region. This world isn’t quite like any other, though it’s not just the Surge which makes it unique. From the Elfs to the shape of the world itself, there are many things for the player’s to discover, and explore.
Groups and Characters
The following is a list of some of the people and groups that have been encountered or heard about by the party so far.