Tertius: The Rise of Magic
The world surges beneath our feet as a new movement is set in motion. A mechanical man rules over the forests of Tradeshadow where once flesh and blood held sway. The gargoyles stir from their eternal watch and swoop across Pelfield. The Prince of Fire groans and rumbles, threatening to crest his moors and plunge the Isles into a burning chaos. Driftwood casts itself towards the past, embracing the trickster beggars that feign understanding of the lost ways. The shadows deepen in the forests of Tel’Cora and valleys of Drakairn. The Dragon Gate remains closed.
The world surges beneath our feet, lurching all of man-kin into a shuttering waltz plucked out in the latest movement of the song of fate. The plans of the leaders crumble to chaos in the wake of the Hundred. The prayers of the faithful echo through their high halls, but do not reach the ears of the divine, stagnant fervor turning to corruption. The fortunes of the wealthy dwindle as the masses are paid to put off the descending difficulties. Whose tune does the land dance to when all of its pillars crumble?
The world surges beneath our feet as the lowest are forced into movement. Lost amongst the looming darkness, the orcish horde The Hooligans has moved against the southern coast, scattering the few villages there to ash. Its people retreat to their ancient stronghold of The Narrow Fort, only to find an understaffed and underequipped garrison. Pressed into service against the invading swarm, the heroes of our story find a beginning – the ancient molds they shatter will remain forever broken.
The world surges beneath our feet as the movement of fate at last is challenged.