Tribulation

Descent of Man

They appeared one cool summer evening, sailing from the sky aboard bejeweled galleons of steel, and landed in the valley of Ildaer. Word of them quickly spread and we came to see these mysterious new people. They held us in thrall—they resembled us greatly, only there was much more variation to their appearances; to look at them all at once was like gazing at an immense rainbow mosaic. We called them Caelirans, "people of the heavens." They kindly greeted the old ones and invited us all to see their paradise, a city of sparkling steel and glass. We marveled at their flying instruments and their pools of images. They claimed the stars as their birthplace. Surely, thought we, these are glorious new gods who have come to bring about a new age! We were half wrong.

Pestilence

The plagues began shortly after their arrival. The small communities outside of the Valley suffered first, but the virile scourge gained speed like a single falling rock starts an avalanche of fatal proportion. There were a great many migrations away from these visitors; however, this only served to spread the plagues. Some among us believed this curse was a punishment from nature, but what reason did Gaea have to brutalize her own beloved children so? Then we looked to the Valley of Ildaer and saw that not one soul suffered.

We went to the city of the new people—Hubrion—and beseeched their healers to aid us. Their concern turned to horror when they witnessed our withered children; they knew something about the plagues but kept their knowledge to themselves and helped whoever they could. By the time the pestilence dwindled we had lost over one third of our people.

With time the plague faded, but fresh assaults on our precious land replaced old horror with new: new beast and germ were loosed from the Valley of Ildaer. These varied in form and ferocity: while some resembled the leaf and hoof of our own world, others were like nothing we had ever seen.

The Soulsiphon

The magicks possessed by the newcomers were of an altogether destructive nature. With their powerful spells they split the sky open and made the hills weep precious life energy. This cataclysm we called the Soulsiphon. The visitors claimed it fueled their city, but the land complained greatly. Grief-stricken, we declared that they honored nothing.

And so we assembled a diplomatic envoy, its members represented each sentient race. They traveled to Hubrion to send word of our discontent, but the lords there were indifferent to our suffering.

War

Precisely what words were spoken at the diplomatic conference are long forgotten, but what resulted was a long and horrible war. Many newcomer tribes who did not wish to engage in war fled from the valley, and some sought the mercy of our peoples. Among the races who went to other lands were: the Oowilit, the Afyr, the Pedriti, the Celestials, the Aengerak, and our own Silwaré, who called the valley home. The human races forsook all of their technological possessions for safe passage to other lands.

The battles scarred the mountains and turned the land to ash. Though the newcomers had the advantage of technology, their power was confined to an area around the cursed Soulsiphon; they did not have the link to nature we did, and we borrowed power from the land and from within ourselves. The final battle was fought in the Valley of Ildaer and we breached the city walls. The intruders utilized the Soulsiphon in a desperate attempt to drive our people from the city and the result was complete desolation.

It is said the sky screamed and mountains trembled when the power of the Soulsiphon was unleashed. Most life in the valley was obliterated as Ildaer was blasted by intense fire, smoldering debris and poisoned air. And still the Soulsiphon stood, twisting high above the blasted plain and plunging into the black clouds above like a white-blue knife.

Most of those who survived the siege fled but a few visitors remained, desperate to rebuild what was lost. We thought them stricken mad. Any who remained in the valley soon died in this new Poisoned Vale or were corrupted by the foul properties of the Soulsiphon. Our people left to never return.

Pursuit

It was the Silwaré magi, eschewing vengeance for calculated preclusion, who followed the surviving intruders, using their magic to flay the minds of those wisest among the visitors to strip away the fruit of knowledge. And so the progeny of Hubrion fractioned and multiplied under the ever-watchful eye of the Silwaré. After several generations, it was agreed that they had lost all understanding of their dark arts and so the Silwaré relented. We pray that the determination of the Vigilant Gathering shall never wane, for this world cannot withstand such another tainted renaissance.