chanceA New Millennium
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The world is changing.

Two thousand years have passed since the Brittanian calendar's first summer, and to commemorate the second millennia a number of  titular shifts have occurred. The fall of not one, but two great dynasties, Esshar and Barsburg, the former to a demon horde and the latter to the empire of Aen. What it means for the people of those nations is uncertain, but once again it is proven that everything has a beginning and an end, and history will weave its tale. People will continue to live, whether it's through the hardships of war or a prosperous era, and they will approach each day glad to be breathing than not to be. It is humanity's right to rise and be kissed by the sun each morning, and it is their right to slumber peacefully with the moon each night, no matter what is occurring around them.

This gift of hope defines civilization.
From the lone child surrounded by smoky ruins to the old fat king living lavishly.

We all have the right to dream, and we of the living get to start each day anew, a blank page waiting for our next move. This collective determines the course of history and the destiny of mankind, no matter how small or large, and the chapters we write are eternal, for they're a part of the epic that is this world.

What is your dream?
Who are you?

Two years ago, an ambitious group of men and women had a dream of their own, the Lightgarde of Delphina. All of the great magi of Meranthe climbed the Tower of Aetius, gaining passage through one runegate after the next. Realm 34 of the Sunflower Fields, Realm 45 of the Silvergold Lake, Realm 49 of the Hollow World. Planets and landscapes of an otherwordly nature were explored. Many died, or were left too maimed to continue. But Lightgarde endured and led the pack, far ahead of the rival guilds of Aphros and Vdalion, and with troves of treasure to make it worth it, both physical and that of knowledge. This era of fragile peace lasted for many years, a cold war of sorts where the arms race was who could retrieve the most dangerous relic hidden by the mad king. It ended just as Delphina managed to reach Realm 124, and catastrophe hit. 

Scholars debate (and blame) what occurred at the near peak of the tower. Many agree that, for a moment, the spirit world and Eternia became as they were in the mythical era, one. Before the pantheon of Enarr established the place of the dead and gave order to the flow of magic. In that instant of magical backlash, from the tower the fabric of reality was torn apart, shredded like paper. Tsunamis, earthquakes, and raging storms lashed across the continent, destroying once prosperous cities and countless towns. This age of adventure was now over, and it is taboo to explore the Tower of Aetius recklessly.

In Delphina, with the death of their Monarch and a dagger pointed at them in every direction, by a thin margin the council of Faeborne decided to put to use one of the weapons Lightgarde had retrieved from the tower: A binding contract with a Greathive. Not much good comes from the Shadowlands, but this race of ravenous insects are bound by their Queen to serve the next Monarch. It is an unusual time for Nemea's children, and a tense one. What makes matters worse is that despite the demise of the Monarch in their short reign during the tragic events of 124, tradition decrees that their choice of heir will not be unveiled until the gala solstice that occurs once every five years. 

In Aphros, the recent chaos is seen as an opportunity to bring about positive change. The aging Oracle, Aura Athanide, certainly agreed with the sentiment, having guided the people of this nation for almost twenty years now. She is set to retire. The history of the Oracles of Athelios is curious to say the least, with each Oracle setting out a unique trial to determine the next, designing the trial based on what they believe the nation needs the most of in a leader at the time. From duels to the death to a game of shogi - Or when a yellow toad became the Oracle, but Aphros prefers you forget about that - It has produced a certain eccentricity within the ruling class. And it is respected, deeply, by any person that considers themselves a patriot. In Aura's case, she declared the next trial with a cackle: The person who wears the Glided Crown of Athelios is the next Oracle. The piece that was supposedly worn by the founder, and none since, buried away in a tomb on the edge of Athelios's domain, or so they say. Such a request would be considered heretical given the nature of the task, but since the Oracle set out the challenge then it is Law. 

In Vdalion, the era looks promising. Strong warriors of the Ursidae and Giant clans have emerged in number. It's believed that the catastrophe of 124 also reignited the Will of Three, an old myth involving Enarr's descendants. Many of whom are of the north. Young clansmen felt a burning in their blood as the waves of destructive magic coursed throughout Meranthe. Some approached the rubble of civilization feeling a sense of determination, as if something new had been awakened. That is the case for many of Vdalion who look to the Council of Moot to set a course for becoming the most dominant power in Meranthe and beyond, much like they assisted Aen in taking down their enemy, a taste of the future ahead. The world isn't ready for what's to come.

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