A Long Day's Rest

"Across a vast realm stretched taut across the colossal unyielding form of the Mother-Creator, acting as very foundational bedrock and world-energies pulsating beneath your feet. For a hundred millennia, her decaying presence at the bottom of the realm has fed the foundations of life through the ground upwards, a lone disc of life adrift in the boundless, star-dusted void. Cosmic swirling nebulae reside across the endless expanse beyond the world's edge beyond the boundaries of these lands, the last remnants of her dying dreams manifested."

"The most powerful echoes of magic and divinity which founded these lands though, are also dying. Most of the gods who were once born from the Mother-Creator and shaped the lands, are now like the one who birthed them: decaying underneath their kingdoms and only serving to refuel the lands with one last injection of life energies radiating from their decaying forms. Very few of them remain in a state which would constitute ‘living’ in this current age."

"In their wake, a handful of their demigod offspring remain and rule the realms, fractured remnants of such celestial powers still residing within their flesh. Some cling to vestiges of sanity, their once-thriving domains now existing within fluctuating states of peace and unease. Others have succumbed entirely to madness, their territories once filled with hopes and dreams, now warped into nightmarish landscapes that no mortal would dare to step within. In the most unstable corners of the world, abstract horrors remain, lurking within deadzones, born from the misery of such remaining powers clashing."

"In spite of it all though, wild lands and new kingdoms have bloomed, led by a new generation of mortals who seek to not only survive, but thrive. You might traverse sun-drenched kingdoms where vibrant civilizations flourish, their spires reaching towards the uncaring stars. Yet, just beyond the horizon, lie desolate wastelands, scarred by ancient cataclysms or the whims of the fury of now dead gods, with the more resilient mortal races also trying to claim such places as their homes."

"You awaken as a nameless wanderer, a craftable vessel originating from the Champions of Aelrich, cast into this age of fading glory and encroaching madness. Your origins are a blank slate, your skills, appearance and intentions yours to define. The choice, and the burden of survival in this unstable realm, rests entirely with you."