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No one knew how long the Gods war had raged for, for countless generations of warriors and priests served its ferocity. The futility of its conflict on the planes was mirrored in the temporal wold, but soon it would reach a pitch of untenable proportions.

The struggle’s ultimate collateral was fiery mountain flung from the sky, the shrapnel of some unimaginable astral battle. As doom descended, the people knew their fate, the fate of the Gods jealousies for them. The world of their followers stood no chance against the sum of their vain and eternal conflict.

The very landscape itself was not spared. Landmass and ocean alike was redrawn, as if some demonic cartographer had somehow found the secrets of creation and had bent the world to his will. The world burned, millenial empires shattered, and the land fell silent.

Those who were now ash, were lucky. Those who survived, eviscerated, had a larger task before them than they could imagine.

Survival was the prime requistite in those dark centuries. Cults and warlords ruled the day for much of the world. The strange beasts, mutations and abberations that now prowled the dawnless countryside were either heeled by more sinister masters, or ruled fiefdoms of terror hundreds of miles wide.

Yet even in this despair, there were those who had slashed the darkness with their determination- their hunger for civilization and rule of law. For those, the Vesicans, the darkness would soon hemmorage daylight.

Among the faithful of the previous generation were those who had lost faith in the endless Gods war and heeded warning in the final days of civilization. They fled to higher ground, the foothills and mountains of the Levations- a name now lost to the current world. Scores of soldier and priest, farmer and scholar, of every race and station converged, and waited. As the oceans rose around them, earthquake and flood tore them asunder, seperating those who it did not kill outright. Pockets survived in now what was rendered archipelago on a vast sea.

The humans were the first to organize and draw borders. The original Vesicans had sheltered the flame of their scholarship of both war and peace, and with their cry of “Cruor Lux” (Blood and Light), they had fought back the hordes of the creedless and their monstrosities to forge a world they recognized, that would endure and sustain them.

Soon they encountered Eladrin, ever their counterparts in learning and ambition.

In the previous world, tradition would dictate that neither would assimilate to the other, and it remained as such for several years. However,it was not long the only remaining Eladrin tower of sorcery was overrun by specters of the borderlands. Their beloved and essential magic arts were only beginning to return. Fearful that they may lose the last of their remaining generation of mages, they turned to the humans in desperation.

Silvius, the 5th Vesican warlord, led an assault to liberate the Eladrin trapped in the tower. He was as his forebears had indoctrinated him: his fierce devotion to civilization and rule of law was exceeded only by his boldness and resolution. The spectral forces were ultimately contained. Most the Vesican troops perished in the assault, but the tower was liberated and the mages were rescued, securing the future of the Eladrin people.

Impressed by the valor, leadership and sacrifice of the human soldiers, the sovereign nations held a ceremony, by which they merged their borders under the banner of Greater Vesica. They made Silvius the first Citizen, and Emperor of Greater Vesica. Silvius’ bloodline blesses the emperors of Vesica to this day.

The Dragonborn of the Eastern lands were next to join, followed by more enclaves of Elves and humans.

A nation of multitudes was now born, demanding valor, scholarship and artistry from its inhabitants. As the bright shining light of civilzation shone over the land, the city states created by the survivors knew that to meet the demands of joining Greater Vesica would be the apex of their civilization.

And so we begin:

A half elven bard from the far away lands of Iberia is here to participate in the rite that will bind his nation and destiny to that of Vesica. In attendance is the Emperor of Vesica, Daeron Magnus; Faelon, a High Priest soon to be first Vesican emmissary to Iberia; Almarien a young Eladrin nobleman, and a new Dragonborn Centruion, Achaeus, soon to be given his first command in the lands of Iberea.

Faelon speaks:

“Vesicans, I speak now to you Cruor Lux, Blood and Light”

“Truly the Iberians have proven their worth to our greater Vesica, their artisanship, their songsmith and their valor will be of great worth to our nation. Erathis be praised”

“Loric, you have been chosen as champion of your people, to embody the attributes, virtues and strength of your land. Now the final ceremony binding us begins”

“When Silvius led his noble assault on the Eladrin Tower of Sorcery, he chose the hope of civilization and peace over the worth of his own life, and it has come to pass that all who wish to join our quest make the same sarifice.”

“For centuries we have contained the remnants of the spectres that sieged the tower in those dark days. Now, in triubte to Vesica, and as champion of your people, we will unleash part of its power and you will face it in a test of arms, as you subject yourself to the same peril of Silvius.”

“In taking this challenge, you will either become the first living Iberian Citizen of Vesica, or the first of your nation to die in the service of Vesica. Either way, by your blood, our nations will be bound, eternal”

“Do you understand your responsibility and submit to this combat of your own free will?”

“Then I say, truly, Cruor Lux to you, Loris, First Vesican of Iberia. Let the combat begin!”

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