LORE BY THE REALM OF ALORIA
HISTORY OF ALORIA
This page references the complete history of the Realm of Aloria ERP Servers. If you are looking for specific information on the Divine Four (The Celestials of Aloria) please visit the lin
The Portals Open
Long ago, before the great unrest in Aloria there was a time of peace.For nearly 9000 years the native elves of Aloria inhabited the lands alone living in harmony as once united race. These were known at the Bright times. They shared the lands with each other as equals, respecting nature and each other as the natural order called for. In those days, all of the realm was lush and green, full of life, hope, and happiness.Bountiful harvests fed all of the lands people, and festivals were held just for the sake of having festivals. People celebrated their lives, love, and births. Even death was a reason for merriment for passing meant living your next life among the Alorian Celestials in Orwa’ti, the higher realm.
As time went on peace hung in a delicate balance. Though the elves had all that they needed they hungered for more. Greed, and a thirst for power no amount of food, or s physical comfort could quench emerged among them. It was during these times the elves began to notice their differences, subtle as they were. The color of one's skin or eyes, the clothes they wore, or the way they kept their hair. Trivial differences that make no more difference to the world than what you had for breakfast does. Still the elves divided themselves into four unique sub races, High elves, Wood elves, Frost Elves, and the Dark Elves known as Drow. Once divided they fought.
High elves believed that they were the superior elves, and that their laws and customs should be followed above all others. Of course they were wrong. It is not our differences that define us, it is our similarities that bind us. Few stood up to the high elves attempts at oppression, as elves are not naturally prone to violence. The Drow were the only elves to oppose them, deciding that if any race should rule the realm it would be their own. Meanwhile the Wood Elves stayed neutral, hating both sides for their brutality, and the frost elves fled to the north where they were seldom heard from.
Things went on this way for many years before the Divine Four, the celestial leaders and creators of Aloria, took notice. Mahtyana, deity of Love and Empathy, Dothaman, deity of Secrets and Wisdoms, Xobia, deity of Judgement and Punishment, and Nethros deity of War and Chaos saw the feuding of the elves. The Four took the fighting for weakness, deciding the elves who they once considered the most perfect race in all of creation, were in fact flawed.
It took almost a decade of reflection and occasional conversations about the elves before the divine four created a plan of action. To teach the elves how foolish it was to fight over something as trivial as physical appearances they forged a plan of enlightenment, and so came the dawn of a new age. So started the Great Migration, Alorias dark times.
The Divine three destroyed the planes of reality defying the laws of magical stability and entered the Realm of Aloria. On this day the Realm filled with red skies and dark clouds, and thunder loud like a god's anger. Raindrops fell, large and warm like a mother’s tears, and lightening in angry violet bolts that seemed otherworldly and out of place against the blood red sky. For ten days this would continue, all surrounding a deep black shroud of mist so dark and foreboding no living thing dared near it. Vegetation for miles was destroyed creating desert in its wake, the first seen in Aloria. No plants would grow here for many years to come.
When the mist finally diminished and the skies cleared of their tantrum the gods appeared, holding hands circled in the center just where the darkness had been. In their middle stood a portal swirling with magic and palpable energy. A portal bound to the Under Realm, to Urishura the Realm of Lost Souls.
The Gods spoke now for the first time to their creations demanding the king of the Drow and the Queen of the high elves he brought before them. Azura, the Queen was killed in front of her people for her vanity, greed and crimes against the people of Aloria, and Demurga king of drow was sentenced to a life in Urishura where he would spend eternity selecting souls to be sent to Aloria. From this time forward no native elf would be allowed peace in the higher realm, but instead would suffer forever more in the under realm.
The souls selected by Demurga would be bound once more to the bodies of their past life and sent to Aloria where they were given the gift of second life. This was in exchange for serving their purpose to the Divine Four. Their purpose was to teach the elves how wrong their prejudices had been, to show them that all life is equal and all life is valuable. The realm would no longer have a perfect race as the gods once had envisioned for they too had learned through the conflict of the elves that no race should ever be thought superior. Not even themselves, for even the divines had feuded when deciding what to do with the elves.
The first to fall through the portal was a tiefling woman, who was greeted by the gods. Gazing upon the Divine Four proved too much. The last thing she would ever see were the faces of the Four, for afterwards her vision faded to black, before it did the three spoke these words in ethereal unison.
“To you the first, bear our words. You and all that follow have pasts and futures, hearts, dreams and desires. Learn the truths of existence and the value of your fellow people. Blood binds not brothers and sisters, it is desire for love, acceptance and happiness that unifies all life. Hold not one's soul at face value, judge a man not by his scales or claws, see a woman for more than her horns or hairdo. You must find peace in each other or suffer for eternity stuck in a brutal half life, never to age, never to bear children, and forced to die thrice more before your soul is shattered for your failures. Unify the races and Aloria shall reach utopia.”
With that there was a tear in the sky and up rose the gods never to be seen again. New souls began to flood into Aloria, in all shapes, sizes and varieties. Tiny fairies, monstrous Minotaurs, ferocious Orcs, curious goblins and many others all stumbled through the portals equally confused by their circumstances. So began the trial of the people of Aloria.
A Sign of Hope
50 Years passed between the first and second era of Aloria, and in that time little changes. Children have long since gone from the Realm, no one aside from the Native Elves age, and many die again and again at the hands of displaced brutality. The gods remain displeased with the races, offering them no blessings in their times of strife.
The opening of the portal does little to solidify the union of the native elves, and still they quarrel among each other. As time goes on the Elves decide to put aside their own fighting, not to reignite peace but to focus their aggressions elsewhere; on the portal races. They quickly become outnumbered by the multitudes of beings coming into their homelands, learning that this fight will not be accomplished alone.
The elves find themselves forced to take up allies with portal races, developing ties with races that dwell close to their homelands. The Wood Elves found kin in the woodland dwelling fae such as faeries, nymphs, and leprechauns. The high elves found union with Humans, Halflings, and Fauns of the plains of Aloria. The Drow found amicable relations with Tieflings, Orcs and Goblins, and the Frost elves found allies in Half Giants, Trolls, and Dwarves who made their homes in the snowy mountains, This did not end the fighting between elves, but simply served to extend their damages to the portal races. The gods were enraged.
Even angered Gods work slowly, for time is a relative thing in the great expanse of eternity. For a time the Divine Four considered smiting the Realm of Aloria, destroying all life in their wake. Perhaps to leave it empty for a while, or to start fresh with a new divine creation. Then one day Dothaman, with his watchful gaze noticed something small, but peculiar. It was not war, it was not fighting, it was something else. Not quite love, he thought, but he needed an expert's opinion so Dothaman called on Mahtyana for guidance.
What Mahtyana saw when she gazed down from the sky amused and delighted her, her laughter echoed in the higher realm like the ringing of bells. The people of Aloria had created a brothel, where beings of all sorts came together for laughter, merriment and the act of physical love. Mahtyana rejoiced. What she saw was not racism, chaos or hatred, but acceptance and love, in the broadest sense of the word, but it was a start.
Dothaman and Mahtyana called upon Xobia, for her guidance and her stern judgement. For a time three of the four huddled together in the skies gazing down upon their realm. Absent was Nethros, for little time had passed in the Higher Realm since he had betrayed his brothers and sisters who still wished for peace to be restored to their creations. Xobia passed judgement on the realm, deeming its people new and old worthy to continue their quest for redemption. And so the trials of Aloria continue.
The Rise and Fall of the Navali
It has been 150 years since the opening of the portals and the start of the Dark Migration that filled the lands of Aloria with a diverse variety of fantasy races. Since then the claim the Native Elves has on the Realm has come undone. Most native elves are dead, the last of whom remain being old with parchment thin skin and distant hollow eyes. After losing the ability to bear children at the beginning of the dark times, they have been unable to reestablish their dominance on the land. As a last stitch effort to maintain their Reign they have taken to adopting non native, or portal elves into their ranks. Still their numbers diminish.
When the portals opened 150 years ago, there was a week-long storm. The skies filled with red light, dark clouds, and black lightning. This disturbance in the world's balance disturbed an aquatic race known as the Navali. These highly intelligent, and sophisticated fish people had lived undisturbed in the depths of the sea since the dawn of time unknown to any for no surface dweller. None took notice, not even the Divines themselves with their “all seeing” gazes.. When the portals were opened, the peace the Navali had long known was lost. Much of the world's water dried up, and continued to do so as time went on. 140 years of frustrated planning, trial and error, and determination lead to the Navali, and their more fish like servants the Mudkyns gaining the ability to leave the waters for short periods of time.
When the Navali and Mudkyns emerged they found the native Elves, once leaders of the lands, to be dying out. The lands were left to chaos, thievery, vandalism and overall unrest. Entire towns and farmlands were burned to the ground, many starved to death. Over and over again. Most of the realms races were happy to welcome the Navali into power. Their large numbers and grand ideas of peace, food, and comfort for all appealed to many. Still the elves opposed them, planning in secret among their own to overthrow the fish people and send them back to the depths from which they came.
The opposition to their reign changed the way the King of the Navali Gerhal led his people. The once kind, peaceful king turned to violence choosing to slay any who opposed him, and even his own Mudkyn servants when he felt the need. The Mudkyns have become throwaway soldiers, their lives expendable to their dear King. None of his race will stand against him, even seeing his way darken. For the way of the Navali people is fiercely loyal, they will follow their king to the bloody end.
As time went on Gerhals mind wandered towards madness, some say because of his thirst for unopposed power, others say his time spent on land caused his mind to decay. Whatever the reason, the King's reach of destruction spread knowing no bounds. The people of Aloria saw his descent into chaos but were slow to act. It was not until the king slayed his own daughter in the marketplaces that a full uprising against the king began.
Eventually the races of Aloria would come together against the Navali, burning the jungle marketplace to the ground. This wasn’t enough, for the Navali’s reach extended far into the lands of Aloria, but they still had a weakness. It was a young human woman who identified the weakness and in a moment of reasonable brilliance declared their solution. The people of Aloria would move far into the desert, far from the grasps and reign of the mad king.
Eventually Gerhal would die, alone in the Ashen remnants of the decimated Alorian Market. Most of his people returned to the sea, for Navali were no longer widely accepted above the seas murky embrace, Most of the Mudkyn, who were seen as innocent bystanders in the Navali war followed the higher fish people back into the seas to continue their lives of service to the Navali. A new clam falls upon the realm.
Return of the Divine Four
It has been 200 years since the trials of Aloria began, since then all the Native Elves, save for a rare occurrence of a stray Celestial Born Elf or two, have passed on, cursed to live out the rest of their lives in Urishura. After many years of turmoil, chaos, war, and adversity a calm has fallen on the realm. Calm however is a fickle beast, and peace hangs in a delicate balance with Nethros God of War and Chaos constantly working to unravel it.
Mahtyana, Goddess of Love and Empathy saw the trials of the people of Aloria, and was first to deem them worthy of a better life. Perhaps they had been too hard on their creations, and the newcomers to the realm. Were the gods themselves responsible for the fall of the elves? For certainly the influence of Nethros, one of their own, had played a role in the division of the Elves, and so the Goddess decided on her own to give the realm her personal blessings.
Under the concealment of nightfall, and unknown to her siblings, Mahtyana dove down from the heavens to walk once more the lands of her beloved Aloria. As her feet touched the sands of the barren deserts life emerged around her in the form of tall grasses, massive trees, and flowers of all sorts and colors. For 3 nights Mahtyana ran naked through the realm spreading her blessings across the lands. On the third night she cam upon the Alorian Marketplace.
Mahtyana saw the market as a place of hope and beauty. For a night, in disguise she laughed and drank with the merchants and commoners of the city, falling in love with the people of the realm, enthralled by both their beauty and diversity.. She left her blessing on the city that night, a magic promise that no harm would come to any who took refuge in the market of Aloria. By dawn she was gone, left to return to the heavens where she sought out her brothers and sisters for aid.
After much convincing the youngest goddess swayed her brothers and sister towards the idea of moving the portal to the New Alorian Marketplace, explaining what she had done to the realm in those past few nights. First however Xobia judged her sister for her impulsiveness, Dothamon
Scolded her for her failure to consult them, and Nethros laughed at the chaos it caused among the four. It was unlike their youngest sibling to act on her own but perhaps time and chaos could change even the Gods themselves.
Still the portal was moved, allowing all newcomers safe entrance into the realm. Foul monsters lurk just outside the cities embrace, but no death occurs in the market itself. This protection created a safe haven for not only the people and merchants of the Realm, but also for thieves, Vampires, and Werewolves, for they too were safe in the city and needed only to lure their victims outside of the city's sanctity.
Now a rumor falls over the Realm, talk of visiting divines so immaculate they can hardly be gazed upon, further spreading their influences. Some say meeting an Alorian celestial can be both a blessing or a curse. What plans the Divine Four have for their beloved Aloria fall now to speculation, for each deity seems to have their own opinions on what should become of their creation. Will Mahtyana’s message of peace and love be enough to save the realm? Will Xobia judge the realm worthy of redemption ending the trials of its people? And what of the mysterious Dothaman, who’s secrets conceal his true desires? Will the fourth era mark the end of Nethros’ reign of chaos? Only time can tell.
The Gods Depart, an Era of Pirates.
It has been 20 years since the gods left the physical realm of Aloria, returning to the skies from which they came, and many more since the opening of the portal that began Alorias dark migration and the start of its state of purgatory. Of the Divine Four, Xobia’s disembodied eyes continued their watch on the realm but for a time the gods stood idle, leading many to wonder if the people of the realm had been all but abandoned. Their abscence brought a calm to the realm, no longer would the people of Aloria be pawns to the whims of gods or at mercy of their wrath and judgement. Each exiles existence promised now new chance at an admittedly uncertain future.
Nethros, eldest of the Divines had once again been bound and imprisoned in the higher realm, punished for his treachery against the people of Aloria. Dothamon the most mischievous of all the gods had vanished altogether. Rumors quickly spread claiming he may have found love in the realm, and lived now in hiding with his beloved. Others believed he lived on as a raven, who took to the skies to watch and guide the lost. Whatever the people chose to believe it could not be denied that he too like the others of the divine four had not been seen for many years. Eventually all rumors and much talk of gods faded living on only through works of written word and the prayers of loyal, but rare priests and priestesses. These devout followers are told to have the ability to pass on their blessings.
Mahtyana lingered in the realm longest of all, sad to leave its people behind. As people gave up on the Alorian deities, Mahtyanas blessing faded from the merchant city that had stood for a time in the southern desert. With the loss of her protection the city quickly fell to violence. Raids of bandits and pillagers left it in ruins and looted the hub for all its worth til not one brick remained to mark its place in history. One by one the merchants and villagers who did not lose their lives in the raids left the city choosing to instead find lives of their own to the north. For a time established civilization had vanished, there was no law, no tax, no order, no trade. People relied on each other, fending for themselves and their kin for survival. Struggle bread perseverance and the people of the realm grew stronger, finding the terrors of the realm less cumbersome and life overall more bearable.
In a turn of irony it was the uncivilized who brought to Aloria a safe haven for trade and gathering. So was established Harmony Bay, a town erected by the unification of pirates and the Navali, aquatic natives of the realm. Nearly 100 years before the Navali held sovereignty over the lands and its people until the fall of the mad king Gerhal brought their people into shame and hiding. Many returned to the seas and the embrace of the mother coral to lie in slumber until a need came to once again arise. Few remained clinging to the ruins of their once great city. Eventually the receding seas caused the mother coral to grow sick and it became pertinent that they seek aid to restore life to it and health to the seas. That is where they found kinship in the sea loving pirates who’s mutual wish to save the seas binded them together.
Harmony Bay was built in the ruins of the Navalis former city, on the edge the jungle near the sea. Much of the original stonework remained, though buildings in ruins were removed and rebuilt. The merry inhabitants of the coastal city were known for their love of fun and booze, holding many parties and festivals, and legend has it even a side show of oddities. A man known only as Captain was responsible for bringing together the band of misfits who built by their own hands the great city, and formed family when so many had lacked it. He served as leader of the bay and by some extension the realm, as those who controlled wealth and trade too held power. With much of Alorias seas dried up by angered deities the pirates and Navali, with aid of the lesser mer-people, the mudkyns, took now to land. They built a home for themselves as the seas continued to recede and welcomed many colorful people to their city for the exchange of goods and kinship. Often it was forgotten that the people of the Bay were still pirates living by the pirates code. Any who defied the rules of the bay were imprisoned or sent to the gallows.
Harmony Bay, while grand and inviting was not all safe, for Pirates have a natural enemies in vampires and all that stood with them. Vampirism was a cult like affliction of cursed beings serving their dark lord after swearing to him in blood promise. They shared in both his powers and his curse, living forever more in his cold, clawed embrace as children of darkness. The power of his curse had drove so many in the realm to dine on the blood of others. If the blood was not given willingly they would take it by whatever means necessary.
The word vampire became a taboo in Harmony Bay and those who lived there thought twice before inviting strangers into their hereafter dark. The affliction had recently begun to spread through the realm like a plague, blood red eyes peering out through the darkness. With their natural ability to entice and pursued, many people of the realm, the good, bad and lost alike, fell to the ranks of the damned. Only a whisper of a name, Siduris left any evidence of the vampires dark origins. Will he and his army of fledglings take over Harmony Bay, turning the rest of the realm to darkness? Or will the pirates hold strong to their new home and defeat the vampire scum they hold in such disdain? Perhaps it’s the people of the realm who will decide its fate. So tell me this exile, who’s side are you on?
Note From a Pirate.
Many years ago, never ye mind ‘ow many precisely, the gods came down to mettle in the affairs of mortal men and mortal women. But Alorian men and women be different from others as ye know, we were all once dead, but now we be undead. And once ye’ve lost yer first life ye tend to be a we bit more careful with the next one, or maybe ye don’t.
Either way ye go, once the gods had their fun, they pulled back from the realm, returning to whichever cloud or moon they came from. Poof! Gone just like that as fast as they came. No one really knows why they left or why they came in the first place. That’s the problem with gods isn’t it? They don’t have to tell little land lovers like you their business, not even a sea ‘ardened urchin like me’self is privy to the answer to these questions. One can only guess, per’aps they became bored of meddling, or maybe they realized they’re actions causing more ‘arm than good. Whatever be the reason I for one rest me boots much easier knowing that fool hardy whirlpool of a deity Nethros is far from the realm now, and ‘ere’s to hoping he took all of that chaotic energy away with ‘im.
I wouldn’t lie to ye matey, and say the Realms all peaceful these days cause it ain’t. Still wrought with the shadows of evil, selfish land lovers trying to claim up all the realm, and a bucketful of dogooders who be trying to rid these parts of piratry. So we pirates made a bit of a safe haven we did, for any pirate or land lover to rest their weary eyes and have a good few sips of rum together. And that’s ‘Armony Bay it is. The best place is Aloria depending on who ye’ be asking of course. Right now ye’ be asking me and I be telling you the truth. Not a finer place in all of Aloria than ‘Armony Bay.
Course we have rules even in the bay, even pirates need some sort of order. The Captain makes all the rules on account of he funded and founded our great city, laid many of the bricks and boards with his own sea weathered hands too he did. He’s not much for rules so they ain’t be many of them. No fighting and no killing in the Captains beloved city and ye should get along here just fine. Of course put a little rum into a scurvy dog and you’ll get a bit o yapping, so anyone too drunk and disorderly finds themselves shut away behind silver bars, yes I said silver? How else can ye lock up a werewolf?
Another thing ye ought to know is the only thing pirates hate more than werewolfs is vampires, find them to be both detestable and abominable. Last I ‘eard they had a live one locked in one of the cells, but I can’t imagine they be getting on much longer locked away in their with no access to food of their own. Ye be knowing what their food is don’t here land lover? It’s the blood of fine Alorians like you and me. I’d tell ya not to go about meddling with the undead but since you’re undead too now, we all are, I won’t be telling you how to live yer new life.
Last thing ye should know is before he built ‘Armony Bay, the Captain was a fierce pirate who sailed all over plundering loot in this life and his last, scoring booty, and spreading the way of the pirate. Legend has it he’s lost some o’ his treasures to the seas along the way, and anyone seeking to find it be up for a bit of a swim. If you’ve got the breath and the guts to dive below the waters surface ye may find bounties unlike that of which ye’ve ever beheld before. But ye best be off now landlover. Speak with the Captain, he should be aboard the The Golden Key, that’s the name of his ship it is. He may ‘ave some work for you, and can guide ye into the ranks of piratetry if that’s what ye be wishing to do.
PART ONE: THE FALL OF HARMONY BAY.
For many years a man walked the Realm of Aloria, living in the shadows. Hunted for existence for being little more than what he was; a vampire. Though he had little to no control of his face it made him a pariah at constant odds with the people around him. Like many mortal men tend to do, Siduris fell in love with a woman called Isabelle. Eventually fate took his lover from him, her remains scattered through the realm by beings unknown in an act of defiance against him.
People feared the Vampire king, and fear can be a very funny thing. Sometimes it creates wars against the being they fear, and sometimes it leads to acts of appeasement. Soon the people of Aloria took up arms to retrieve Isabelles remains from the darkest reaches of the Realm in efforts to appease him out of fear. A drow called Haelolin led the raids to seek out the lovers' remains, leading a small army to battle against dark creatures in attempts to return Isabelle’s body to her lover. However, the last of her remains were stolen, and he never found his peace.
All of this served as little more than a distraction. While he earnestly desired the remains of his lover, he had bigger, more important plans in store and needed quiet retreat from his hunters to prepare. He sought out the gods, one in particular, calling to him through the void. When Siduris king of Vampires made dealings with Demurga god of Death and Pity the world was forever changed. Their blood pact created the blood elves, leading to the reincarnation of the native elves of Aloria who died out so many years ago. These blood red elves were cunning, skilled murderers believed to eat their victims. It is also believed that it was one of the blood elves or a group of them responsible for the disappearance of the Captain, former kind and benevolent leader of Harmony bay.
With the Captain out of the way the city of Harmony Bay soon fell to unrest. Talk of an heir to the Captain had never been thought about. With few volunteers of merit to take his place the once tight knit bond of the townsfolk began to unravel. Soon after the blood elves would drive the unsettled inhabitants from Harmony Bay to claim it as their own. The town was dismantled and burned to create wake for a new city to rise from its ashes.
Before the city of Harmony Bay fell, the Realm was in a state of imbalance, Nature herself suffering in the wake of feuding gods. It was the most unlikely of pair who were brought together to restore nature’s balance and save the mother coral who lay dying at the bottom of a receding ocean. It is not an exaggeration to say most of her people were in stasis within the Mother Corals dying embrace. The Mother Coral is the mother of all the native Navali, including Nixie, last of the Navali to walk the earth. It was Nixie, and a nymph called Maui who forged plans to save the realm. Nixie who during her life had been close to the Captain of Harmony Bay would have been a natural and well accepted successor to the Captain if it had not been for events surrounding one tree of life.
Instead Maui and Nixie met by chance and devised a plan involving spirit gems, the entrapped souls of passed fae, to erect a tree of life. The two worked together to collect hundreds of these gems, rallying all people of the realm to find and contribute spirit gems of their own. These gems were then embedded into a tree not far from Harmony bays lighthouse. The tree is said to have outshone the lighthouse in its moment of completed glory before a massive explosion gave way. This souls of the spirits gem used all of their collective powers and the prayers of the nymph and the last Navali to bring new life to the Mother Coral in a way they never expected. The Mother Coral, once no more than a literal coral who spawned all native Navali and Mudkyn, rose from the ocean to walk on two legs. She looked like the Navali she gave birth too but was large like the gods and shone with a radiant white light.
The mother coral blessed Maui and Nixie, thanking them for their services to her and the Realm itself. She declared Nixie her most faithful of all her children and deemed her fit to rule their people as queen of the Navali, blessing her kingdom with prosperity and good fortune. The mother Coral blessed. Maui with the truth of the fate of her own people, a truth she had long sought after. Once her blessings were delivered the mother coral rose into the sky to take her place among the gods leaving her daughter to build her kingdom. This new kingdom would be built in the shadow of the town Nixie had once considered home.
While Harmony Bay was a bright beacon of a town, forged on rum and acceptance, the city erected in its stead bore stark contrast to the haven that it followed. New Harmony stands a dark, cataclysmic city of sin and desire where people who were once considered taboo and suspicious beings now live out in the open. Vampires, Werewolves and Lich now roam free under protection of city guards who would slay any who tried to destroy them within city limits. No longer do they hide their true selves in the safe haven of New Harmony, the streets of this dark city allowing men and women of the night prowl the streets looking for clients exchanging a good time for better coin.
New harmony believes in one's right to individual freedoms and has few rules. You may not steal, and you may not kill unless in ritualistic religious sacrifice to Siduris by willing sacrifices. The most egregious of all crimes is to worship any god but Siduris himself within the city of New Harmony, and while all are welcomed so long as they adhere to this rule the city bears clear favor to elves of all kinds. It is important to note it is not Siduris himself who enforces the rule of his worship, but his followers. Having met each of the gods Siduris would never belittle their existance and powers. However the elves believe themselves to be the natural heirs to the Realm of Aloria and seek to take back the power they lost so long ago, enforcing the rules they seem fit.
Still the city is as enticing as it is mysterious and draws many visitors to drink in its open air tavern, to study in its library of lore and histories, to prowl the streets in search of companionship, and to seek out rare goods and servants in its black market. Even if they think they’re better than you the Elves of New Harmony make damn good hosts.
PART TWO: THE DIVINE SEVEN
When the mother coral rose to the Heavens becoming the Alorian Goddess of Nature and Balance she found the pantheon to be in a state of upheaval. The first of the divines the Mother Coral laid eyes upon was Xobia. The goddess of Judgement and punishment had driven herself to the brink of madness judging herself guilty for the state of the Realm and the fate of its people.
Her back bore the markings of whips, these deep bleeding lashes the product of self mutilation leaving little more than torn bloodied cloth that had once been white to cover her divine form. Her eyes she had torn from her head to cast into the sky to watch the sufferings of the realm, leaving her face the home of two dark, empty, bleeding sockets.
The mother coral reassured the sobbing goddess that all hope was not lost, that the people of the Realm were not all bad creatures deserving of punishment. She told the tale of the nymph and the mermaiden who had saved her life and allowed her immortality and a place among the gods. Their intentions had been pure, and kind, and many others like them existed even if they were not easily seen, even by an all seeing goddess. The mother Coral convinced Xobia to take back her eyes, and her mind and take respite in the good of others. It was her time to rest and allow the people of the realm to work out their own difference as the divine balance would always ensure.
Next the goddess of Nature found Nethros in a throne of fire thoughtfully watching Mahtyana writhing on the ground in front of him entirely naked save for coils of fire that seared into har wrists, ankle, neck and waist. The god of war seemed to take no pleasure from watching the goddess of love suffer, seeming to do so out of boredom. His face twitched to a snarl as she whimpered before him, her face not far from his booted feet.
Like Xobia, Mahtyana too wept from the internal weight of failing the people she created and loved. For allowing Aloria to fall to the state it was in, for allowing it to fall from a beacon of hope to a cataclysm of chaos by Nethros’ hands. She wept too from the indignity of her own weaknesses, for allowing another god, her equal, to entrap her in such a way. Emotionally broken she had little fight within her, her tears creating a near constant rainfall in the jungles of Aloria. Even entrapped she blessed the realm allowing for a lucious and vibrant jungle to thrive off her pains.
The Mother Coral was not impressed by the war gods flames and the way he used them against his own kin. Using her own affinity for water she took up arms against Nethros, drenching the higher realm in a torrential downfall that extinguished every flame within it, much to the outrage of Nethros who resided in a castle forged in flames of the sun he’d created. When he turned against the mother coral he found his powers extinguished by the unrelenting rainfall of the nature goddess.
Next the mother coral would demand a consult amongst the divines, using her powers of nature to call out to the missing god Dothamon, the god of Death Demurga, and even to Siduris, the king-god who still walked the mortal Realm. Her summons lead all the gods to return to the higher Realm. These united gods of seven sat around a round table as equals, forming a council to discuss the state of the Realm. Dothamon, missing for many years was last to arrive but even he could not ignore the nature god as the earth itself worked to wrangle him back to his proper place among the divines.
So sat an ever-angry Nethros, humiliated by the nature god. A recovering Xobia, regaining her sanity. An unbound Mahtyana, wounds of flames still fresh in her tanned skin. A reluctant Dothamon, still shrouded in mystery. A confused Demurga, still unsure of his place amongst the gods. A newly resplendent Mother Coral, still adjusting to her new form. And one King-God Siduris, larger than life had ever allowed him to be. United the gods began the long process of settling their own differences so Aloria could thrive like never before. The results of this console, which went on for many years are still a mystery leaving the people of the Realm to wonder what exactly is in store for them.
Eventually Siduris returned to the realm, the divines deeming his presence amongst mortals to be necessary in their quest to unite the peoples of the realm. Demurga was sent back to the Realm of Lost Souls to bring new beings into Aloria, and the rest of the gods remained in the higher realm to observe the world and its people. Only time will tell if the god-king of Aloria will bring peace, or further unrest, as even a god cannot determine the actions of mortals instilled with free will and thoughts of their own.
PART ONE: The Divine Rift and the Fall of Nethros
When gods war, it is the lands and their people who suffer. Regions split, driven by chaos and feuding deities. The world shatters and what was once whole becomes divided. So was the fate of Aloria in times when the portals opened. A once enormous land mass was fractured, its lands set adrift beyond vast oceans filled with fearsome beasts. The three continents became their own worlds separated by waters too dark and dangerous to traverse.
Those on Bal’hara -- the mother continent -- were likely not aware that this split happened for it happened over 200 years ago when the portals first opened. First to split was the vast arctic land mass to the north, too cold and uninhabitable for even the frost elves. This landmass -- known as Synthe -- was stolen by the sea and pulled west never to be seen again. Time left it forgotten by all but the oldest and most knowledgeable scholars and historians. Stories were forged of the unforgiving land, home to only the most gruesome creatures.
To the south the dry lands of Cordous sunk into the seas, swallowed whole, becoming a utopia for the Navali where mighty kingdoms were created. Eventually fate would pull those lands to the surface once more, forcing the Navali from their homes for many years leaving only ancient ruins of their culture and beliefs. Cordous resurfaced to the east some time later and began to change. This turned Cordous to a vast world of its own holding many regions with biomes from the frigid north to scorching deserts as nature reclaimed the lands restoring balance to them.
In the year 236 the divines, once a holy seven, became six with Siduris returning to the heavens in their time of need. With the unified powers of the seven a rift was opened in the heart of the mother continent splitting the world apart to cast Nethros, god of War and Chaos into the underworld. There he would reside, no longer welcome in the higher realm, or in his own kingdom in the sun, and so he became deity of the underverse.
The betrayal outraged Nethros who fought back, casting his power through the rift into the heart of Bal’Hara. All of his magical energies, his powers and his hatred seeped onto the surface, poisoning the lands and its peoples. Plant life ceased to grow, animals died, fires burned rampant across the lands and the people closest to the rift grew ill. Many died off, victims to the seepage.
After his ascension back to the heavens, Siduris, once the god-king of New Harmony, remained in the higher realm with his divine companions leading many of his followers to feel abandoned in their time of need. Of course his presence in the higher realm was needed, all the gods’ powers would be to combat Nethros, original and most powerful of all of Aloria’s divines but this changed nothing of how people felt of his leaving.
With their homes poisoned and all life on the mother continent dying the people of the realm hastily took to the waters on haphazardly crafted ships. Many died at sea in these shotty vessels never to be seen again. The few who made it did so by guidance of the mother coral in answer to the prayers of the Navali and their allies the pirates. After a voyage that took many months they found themselves on the continent of Cordous, an empty expanse of strange wildlife, fauna and abandoned ruins.
Not everyone was lucky enough to make the voyage. Some were too ill, scared, or weak to even try. Curiously, however, certain races showed exceptional constitution against the seepage. Dragonkin, Shadowfiends, Oni and Koji seemed largely unaffected by this divine leak of energies, and so these races rose up to defend the weaker abandoned souls of the mother continent in a surprising act of cooperation and unity.
These resilient races chose a leader in a Dragonkin woman known as Amada Bloodstone. Fair and wise with strength without measure she led her armies to face and slay powerful opponents. Almost every creature in Bal’hara had mutated and grown as result of the divine rift, and with their new behemoth sizes they became ravenously hungry looking to make a meal of any creature unfortunate enough to cross their path.
It was not her protection that led Amada to be such a beloved leader, but rather her kindness and her care for others. She rallied the stronger races to stay behind and to protect the weak, preaching the importance of all life as equals. She refused to abandon the people who needed her, no matter how worthless, pitiful, or sick they appeared.
Life went on this way for many months after the rift opened until months turned the dawn of a new year. Even under the Empress Amada's guiding hand people continued to wither and die, succumbing to the irradiated levels of divine energies that continued to pour from the rift. It is believed that between the rift itself and the unsuccessful voyages across the dark seas that nearly half of Aloria's population died.
The gods did little to help the people of Aloria in this first year. The power of the divine six against the wrath of the fallen God Nethros proved futile, and through their many efforts they could not cause the rift to close. Alone in his hellacious underworld with only the souls of alorias dead beside him Nethros’ fury knew no ends. All of his energy went towards poisoning the lands of Bal’hara, not to punish its people but in retaliation to the gods who had banished him.
After one year Xobia cast her divine judgement, with clear eyes and consciousness. She deemed the lands to be unsavable, determining that if the people of Aloria were left to suffer there they’d all eventually die. So the remaining six gods turned their efforts to the portal, the same one that is used to bring all souls into the Realm. With their combined efforts they were able to move it to Cordous, allowing the refugees of Bal’hara life in these new lands. One by one the souls of Bal’hara were pulled back through the portal and transported to the eastern most regions of Corduous, hundreds of miles from the pirates of the western docks.
So two colonies were established. To the east rose the kingdom of Z’ar Martivir, draconic successor to the city of New Harmony. Far on the western shores the colony of pirates, original settlers of the lands of Cordous, established their domain. This port became known as Queen’s Hope, after the Navali Queen Nixie whose prayers led their people to safety. The two cities existed mostly independently of each other, though it is said that the citizens of Z’ar Martivir harbour a sense of abandonment towards those who made the dangerous voyage across the seas without them.
The Creator God
Throughout the lands of Corduos, the peoples of Aloria whisper of a mysterious beast; a power older and more powerful than even the divines themselves.
It is common knowledge in this Realm that when gods play it is their people that suffer. It is the gods who curse us with beasts such as the Snow Mother, and bring the wicked and evils of people like Collector Cross into this realm. Our world at times seems but a toy box filled with toys for their amusement and we amongst their favorite play things. Do they seek to punish us with these forces, to make our lives full of torment and misery? Are we as a realm really so damned?
In the 7th era people found no rest from the darkness of the world making it the shortest era in nearly all of Alorias history, lasting only 2 short years. The snow mother compiled her body count unleashing her Endless Winter upon the realm, eventually taking war to the Queen's Hope, the first Colony of Corduos.
In this final battle the fort and reinforcements of Queens Hope fell, many sacrificing their lives in attempts to protect it leaving the colony's people and their allies in distress. With her Reign now unchallenged the Snow Mother returns to her stronghold in the north, biding her time and basking in the worship of the cultists who follow her.
Meanwhile rumors filled the minds of many with tantalizing ideas of powerful artifacts. Followers of this dark collection were lead to trade, steal, and even murder in attempts to obtain each item creating a game of his own among the realms peoples. The artifacts were used for both good and bad. Some sought to rid the world of their presence while others sought to obtain them to gain power.
Worst of all the collectors was Cross, a necromancer in his own right who forged an army of undead. Now Alorians had a new goal, not to collect the objects for themselves but to dethrone the wicked Cross. In the end Cross did fall, but the fate of the objects? Only time will tell.
Worst of all of the threats to the 7th era was found to be a much quieter presence; a presence drawn to the realm not by the actions of gods but by the Godlings, the closest descendants of the native divines. If when gods play the world suffers, when Godlings play all of existence is put at risk. Though there are many in this realm created by the gods in Aloria, few find themselves noteworthy enough to gain the notice of their parents and truly call themselves a godling.
Though their intentions were honorable the folly of godlings brought notice of the realm to the great void beast Shobek, most ancient of his kind and the true creator of existence and all spaces in between; without this one true god not even the divines could exist, each breath they breath a gift from the void beast.
Each of Shobeks offspring are formed from raw existences and emptiness created in the gods own image, though in lesser forms. They have begun to invade the realm in massive waves seeking to aid their father from the inside, entering through Alorias portal like any other mortal being.
Time among the ancients is a funny thing. It took very little time for Shobek to deem Aloria unworthy of existence, sentencing our plane to be returned to the void from which it came. Why is it then that he did not immediately feast upon our realm? Instead a years time passed giving the people of Aloria time to prepare for the beast's inevitable attacks.
Quietly and quickly the godlings worked to save Aloria from certain destruction, communing with the gods, traveling to the underverse to seek the council of the fallen War God, calling upon ancient beasts to gain information and guidance on the powers of old, and even gazing upon the emptiness of the void in search of answers. Though their actions were many, and help was offered no solution proved great enough to free Aloria from the threat of the void beast.
In the end it was the Act of a single Godling that would allow Aloria temporary respite from their troubles. In complete secrecy and solitude without even a farewell to his soul bound lover, Nemnoc, son of Nethros god of War and Chaos in an act most unlike himself sacrificed himself to the void. Through sacred magic ritual the son of Chaos bound his soul to the tree of woe and created a shield around the realm; one that is strongest around the stronghold of Crestfall, city of resistance.
The barrier formed around the realm was felt as a ripple by all its people, turning the night sky to a brilliant electric blue before resettling to its normal appearance. This rippling effect has now become a common occurrence, and when the night sky glows blue it is believed that the void beast himself is testing our defenses.
In the stronghold of Crestfall the peoples of the now abandoned city of Z’ar Martivar now unite under the dragon empress Amada with those beings of the realm who would seek to resist the void beast, their forces known as the Resistance. Those who would see the world consumed and returned to the void by Shobek have collected in a colony in the Badlands called the Bazaar creating a cult of Voidlings who seek to aid their dark master.
With god spawn on both sides of a new war the peoples of Aloria are now divided more than ever, under the lead of the Snow Mother, the Navali Queen Nixie, The Dragon Empress Amada, and Lord Abbadon, grandmaster of the Voidlings. It is harder than ever to discern what matters and what doesn’t, what side loyalties should lie under, and most of all; who can be trusted in these dark times.
Can one eldritch entity defeat another, will the godlings continue to protect our realm, can the mortals of this world align to fight back against the true forces of evil? These are the questions that at least for now; we have no answers for.
In the wake of Chaos and war the peoples of Aloria take up arms, training themselves in the way of combat, healing, sorcery, blood magic and even necromancy. Each class of Alorian is now more unique and diverse than ever with unique skills to aid them in times of war, each individual playing an important role to their team. Will our efforts be enough, or will we watch the world fall?
Return to Bal'hara
Time explanation: 1 year on Corduos in the 8th era, 3 between seasons.
For the people of Aloria their time on the forgotten continent of Corduos was short lived. Though they had set sail by way of the deadly sea, fleeing their problems on the mother continent of Bal'hara, Corduos offered little reprieve from the troubles of the world. In fact, it only seemed to lure more dangers upon us.
From within the continent an eldritch Horror was summoned. Ancient and all powerful the creation God Shobek prowled the veil beyond reality and threatened to consume Aloria. For a time he fed on the world's fear alone, and Alorians were left to wonder if there really was a threat to them at all.
Time works differently for those as old as time itself. What felt like many long months to the mortals of our realm feels like the most minute measure of reality to an eldritch being. His intentions were indeed set upon returning the Realm to the void from which it came, and seeing no possible threat from Aloria or its gods he took the time to bask in the warring chaos of the unsettled Realm. To the true creation god, a blasphemous purgatory such as Aloria had never earned the right to exist. Further angering Shobek, Aloria served as an unwanted connection, a thread between worlds leading to the intermingling of beings who should have never existed on the same plane.
At first there was much fear and uncertainty. Not only did war break out between the Resistance and the Voidlings, but even the people of Aloria seemed to turn towards violence in their unrest. However Alorias people are strong, and resilient. Having faced many challenges before they responded not with fear or hopelessness but with action. United the people of the realm banded together. By collecting spirit gems in great quantities, defending their collections post, and even stealing from the enemies cache they obtained over 600 of these sacred artifacts. It is thought during this time every gem in existence on Corduos was collected and donated towards the world's prolonged existence.
The War between Shobek's followers and the Resistance reached it's climax when rumors reached Queen's Hope about Voidling Sea Vessels with Spirit Gem Cargo. Resistance fighters carried out a successful campaign of Raids with the Pirate Crew of the Golden Key to battle the ships on the high seas. Despite a sudden storm, sea monster attacks and the vicious defense of Shobek's cultists, the Resistance fighters proved to have unbreakable wills. A fight not only for survival but to exist at all is not one that the Resistance was willing to lose. The Voidling Vessels were pillaged of their loot, every spirit gem they tried to keep from the Resistance were pried from their grasp, overfilling the Resistance cache.
With much of its Magic’s harvested in collections of the spirit gems, corduos became but a shell of itself. Once vibrant, magical land it began to stagnate, dying in absence of these sacred power sources. For the first time alorians knew the dangers of overusing the powers of Alorias very magical essence and will be forced to think twice before attempting to utilize their powers again.
What use were the gems put to? Their powers were released to form bonds to entrap the void god, binding him to the continent of Corduos, a feat only accomplished by first letting the enemy into the Realm.
While the rest of the continent evacuated, two men stayed behind. The first was Nemnoc, son of the war god Nethros. Nemnoc had bound himself to the tree of woe a year befor to create the shield that protected the realm from invasion, sacrificing his humanity to do so. The shell of this man alone could not unbind the barrier that staved off Shobek, for it was not power at all that kept him at bay. It was the raw chaos that poured from the essence of Nemnoc’s soul, chaos given to him by his father.
The second man to stay behinds name is left out of the record books. It is said that after destroying the barrier that protected Aloria from Shobek, and casting the spell to bind him to Corduos, the man took his own life in hopes of one day being able to return to Aloria, but his true fate, like his name, are unknown. Had he not taken his own life, his fate would have been sealed to non-existence as the struggling void god consumed all life on Corduos, perhaps it still was.
Had it not been for the aid of the most unlikely of allies, Shobeks consumption of the realm would have been imminent. Instead, sensing a threat to her beloved continent, beast in her own right, the dragon Snow Mother hurled herself towards an undefeatable foe. After a brief, passion filled battle to defend the lands she claimed as her own, the beings life was cut short. Though the unplanned distraction had been brief, the pause in time and attention allowed the necessary rituals to be performed as the Snow Mother and her powers were sentenced to non-existence, consumed by Shobek.
Elemental earth and nature arose through power of the souls of lost fae, covering Shobek’s divine form in rock, dirt and growth. His tomb formed a mighty mountain, called Inanis, covering much of Corduos’ land mass and everything built upon it in its wake.
All of this had come as only a temporary solution to a great problem. Warning came from the most unlikely of being, a shadowfiend, kin to the mighty Shobek. He spoke of the dangers of entrapping a creation god, of stealing him from his duties. All existence is dependent on the shadow gods, gods of existence. Should one not be allowed to create and consume the sparks of life in the void, all of reality could warp, crumble, and cease to exist. This problem would be inherited by the next Era of Alorians, those who returned to life on the poisoned mother continent.
Corduos had never intended to survive Shobek, so it was with little remorse that the people saw this land begin to wilt and die before their eyes. With haste the people of Aloria crafted ships and vessels, preparing to set sail accross the seas back to an uncertain fate on Bal'hara. Even poisoned as it was, and in the wake of certain death it was the best hope they had at survival.
All who remained on Corduos would be destined to a fate worse than death, pulled into the non-existence of the void never to return again. Simply put, they would cease to exist. Great care was therefore taken to ensure all knew the ramifications of remaining on Corduos, by word of mouth convincing loved ones to place value in their lives and join the fleets of ships that set sail back to Corduos.
By way of three guiding ships, The Briarthorn, The Golden Key, and The Maverick, lead fleets of dozens more to traverse the tumultuous waters between continents. The Briarthorn, a living vessel, created by and housing those who required closeness to nature on the three month journey, the Golden Key Captained by the Navali queen and those loyal to her, and the Maverick, sent first as bait to the sea monsters, boarded by only the bravest of hearts. Despite the fleet's worries, the seas on their journey were suspiciously quiet, the water crystal clear and smooth, the winds steady and accommodating, and not one vicious beast of the sea was to be seen.
Unbeknownst to the realms people, their plight had caught the eye of Xobia, goddess of Judgement and Punishment. For once an Alorian deity smiled down upon her people, judging them worthy of survival.
Though their travels were quiet, the journey was long, three months passed before they'd ever reach the mother continent. When the leading ships arrived on the shores of the mother continent they were greeted by Xobias divine manifestation, her ethereal form there to welcome them with arms extended.
Xobia blessed them with a grand settlement, built upon the sacred ashes of many settlements before it. From the ashes rose Consonance, beacon of hope and light for the land's weary new arrivals.
Xobia alone did not welcome the sea farers, she was joined by the forgotten people of Bal'hara, those most loyal to their homelands who had either stayed by choice, or been forgotten. Most notably Bal'hara held a large collection of fairies, and larger beings bearing the wings of fairies. These winged beings formed Bal'hara's new Fairy Guard, committed to the protection and healing of the sickened continent.
Though they had now the blessed city of Consonance, Alorias problems were omnipresent. With both an angered god beneath the very ground they tread, and an even greater being imprisoned on Corduos the fate of the realm is left in the hands of its people. Be it through unity and teamwork, prayer and worship, wit and cunning, or war and chaos the solution is theirs to make.
The Unknown Disaster
Time explanation: 1 year in Bal'hara during the 9th era, 1 between seasons.
Cataclysm, chaos, unrest. Common themes in the day to day lives of Alorians. During these times there are those who’d wield turmoil for personal gain, ever struggling to expand their reknown, landclaim and over all positions of power. This power struggle led to a dominance of warriors and mages in Aloria, those skilled upon the battlefield and possessing combative prowess.
With power unchallenged the aggressive take slaves. Slavers come in all shapes and sizes, from elves, to orcs to dragons. Some of the enslaved are used for sexual debauchery, some as workers, or throwaway fighters. Some even grow into symbiotic relationships of service and protection. But what of when slaves are amassed into armies? It is said that somewhere deep in the deserts of Bal'hara numerous caravans are moving pure blood dragon slaves across the hot sands by the dozens their destinations and goals as mysterious as they are ominous.
In the spaces in between a new type of Alorian arises, the common citizen, those people who would turn cheek and flee rather than seek solution through conflict. Perhaps it is a sign to impending peace in the realm, or perhaps just a happy coincidence. For what they lack in combat skills they make up for in ingenuity and good spirits bringing new innovations and ideas to our plane of existence.
In spite of the evolution in its inhabitants, there is no good idea that has come to save the Alorian collective from disaster. And so disaster strikes once more.
A pulse, an echo, felt as cold fire against the skins of every Alorian accompanied by blinding green light. In an instant what once was, was no more. For when our eyes reopened every man made structure and land mark created by the Alorians in times since the great migration vanished without a trace. Not even a single foundational stone is left to be seen. No ashes to commemorate our fallen homes.
Both warriors and citizens alike are left devastated and homeless. The strength to persist harder for some than others comes in waves as efforts are made to reclaim daily life. So power turned not to the fighters, not to warriors or mages but to the common crafter; builders, artisans, those skilled in domestic trades. All of which play a crucial role in the task of reconstruction of the realm.
All the while heads turn in search of a direction to place blame. Some blame the entrapped void being Shobek, claiming his presence in Corduos to be poisoning the realm. Evidence for this can be seen when gazing out upon the ocean, where one might witness the blackening of distant seas. Others place blame in the fallen god of chaos Nethros suggesting that the divine rifts littering the lands to be growing in deadly power and strength. But then, why is the light green? Not the color of void or flames. This leaves others uncertain; might it not be some new unholy force that defies and defiles us?
Still life must go on, and so the world began anew once more. Ancient temples of wood elves were repurposed into marketplaces, centers of trade and commune for weary souls. A place of peace and harmony where gatherings might be had, and reasons to rejoice might be remembered. From these temples a city expanded outwards to include stables, a cathedral, tavern and inn. They city would be called Sanctuary, and serve as exactly that.
The Twelfth Age
The Plane of Lost Souls
Time explanation: 1 year has passed since the end of season 11.
Lore written by Nixie
In the Eleventh Hour, the Battle between Shobek's followers and the Resistance reached its ultimate climax. A Powerful being known as Draxus the Champion of Shobek along with his Knights of the Void waged War on the Realm of Aloria in the name of their god; the great Void Beast Shobek, an entity older and more powerful than even the Alorian Divines. In the eyes of the Void’s sympathizers the purgatory Realm of Aloria created by ‘Lesser Divines’ had not earned the right to exist, they sought to end Aloria the same way hundreds of Realms have met their end; by being pulled into the non-existence of the Void from which it came where it would simply cease to be. Taunting the Alorians with a fate far worse than death, claiming that not even death could save them from the Void.
For Months, the united people of the Realm known as the Resistance fought back against the tide of Voidlings and their leader Draxus but the efforts seemed to be futile. Despite the vigilant blockade created by the sea-dwelling race known as the Navali to prevent Voidling Vessels from reaching the land of Bel’hara from the Void corrupted continent of Cordous and despite the constant destruction of Voidling camps scattered across the land; the Void forces continued to grow in numbers on Bal’Hara faster than New Alorian souls were appearing from the Divine Portal. No solution proved great enough to free Aloria from the threat of the Void Beast, until the answer was blessed to the Resistance by one of the so-called Lesser Divines; the god of Secrets and Wisdom, Dothamon.
A cryptic message was sent to every Raven mail cage in the Realm, one that simply read; ‘Follow the Ravens ~ Dothamon’. Days later a Black mass moved rapidly across the sky casting a shadow over the land, this dark cloud moved with the sound of thousands of flapping wings and caws of attention and of warning. No secret in Aloria is hidden from Dothamon, not even the secrets that the enemies of Aloria would want to keep from him and he chose to share his wisdom with the Realm. Ravens in the largest flock ever seen soared toward what would be the final destination for the Resistance and final battle for the Fate of Aloria.
Dothamon’s Ravens led the Resistance to Draxus’ Fortress and the reason for the Void’s incredible power in Aloria; the Voidlings had discovered what would be known as the ‘Nethros Stone’. In the Seventh Era, the Divines cast Nethros into the Underverse of Urishura but a rift was created from which the god of Chaos and War flooded the land of Bal’Hara with his magical energies. His power and his hatred seeped onto the surface of the Realm and so too did this concentrated igneous rock of Chaos. The Nethros Stone had lay dormant for years after everyone assumed Nethros' poison had been cured but then in the Tenth Era it erupted. The energy it harnessed sent a shockwave across the realm and caused the Unknown Disaster.
The Void Forces had been empowering the Nethros Stone with Void energy, enabling them to create a Rift to the Void instead of the Underverse and to interfere with the Divine Portal’s magic. Through a hard fought battle not only for survival but to exist at all, the Resistance defeated Shobek’s Champion and his army and disrupted the Nethros Stone, however this came with an unforeseen consequence: Those most sensitive in magic felt the ripple of energy surge far out over the lands and sea, course through the portal ley lines like blood through veins on its way to the heart or a spike of pain traveling up the nervous system toward the brain. In Consonance, the Divine Portal's gateway suddenly exploded into a mess of rock and marble, shooting a ray of red light high up into the sky as a wave of energy knocked everyone in town down, structures collapsed and the town itself was flattened!
All of Aloria would witness the dark of the void fade away but blue skies do not return on that day, instead the skies of Aloria appeared to change into a crimson red with swirls of color like an aurora borealis; greens, blues and purple shades shimmering on the horizons. The sky had taken on such a sharp color once before in Alorian history for ten straight days; in the First Era when the Divines had entered Aloria and used their power to create the Divine Portal connecting the Realm to Urishura, the plane of Lost Souls. In the beginning of the Twelfth Era when the Divine Portal was destroyed, the sky once again remained a rose red for ten consecutive days...
When the Sky’s crimson red color finally faded away and the Alorians could once again see the twilight of the stars, they also saw two large red eyes staring down onto the Realm at them from high above, an immeasurable cosmic form that seemed to stand watching from beyond the moon. As the light of the sun rose over the land it illuminated the face of the astronomical being, revealing a face familiar to most Portal spawned Alorians but one they would not remember.
Demurga, the god of Death who was sentenced to an endless life in Urishura the plane of Lost Souls by the Divines to spend eternity selecting souls to be sent to Aloria spoke to the denizens of the Realm and his voice shook the land. He told them that the Destruction of the Divine Portal had released the potent magic contained and it enveloped the entire Realm within it. Aloria itself was inside of the Divine Portal and at the Mercy of the god of Death.
Every being in the Realm felt a drop, a tingle in the stomach as if falling or riding down a fast paced elevator and then like a sinking stone that had reached the seafloor and gently touched down, the ride was over. Demurga had charioted the entire realm of Aloria, pulling it away from the space in the Void it had once rested and set it down inside of Urishura.
The Realm’s connection to Orwa’ti, the higher realm as well as the connection to Urishura, the plane of Lost Souls, was even stronger now that the realm itself is surrounded by the plane of the dead and contained within the Divine Barrier. The followers of Shobek were wrong; Death DID save them.
One year later, the Skies once more turned red for ten days as the rest of the Divines from the realm on high used their power to finish the liberation of Aloria by reconstructing the Divine Portal to bring new beings into the Realm through the Divine Barrier. Demurga set himself upon his task right away, granting new life and a new chance to many lost souls trapped in Urishura, away from the afterlife they expected to be in.
Now begins a new Era for the people of Aloria, an Era of Celebration of life, an Era finally freed of the Shadow of Shobek, an Era without fear of being wiped away from existence. An Era closer to the Divines and closer to the plane of Lost Souls than ever before.
Welcome to the Realm of Lost Souls.