History of Thassilon
During the golden age of old Azlant, its wizened mystics exiled a powerful wizard named Xin for his scandalous belief that Azlant should cooperate with the lesser races to build an even greater nation in Avistan. Though he fought passionately for his ideals, he was ultimately banished for such heretical theories. On his perilous journey
eastward, Xin took with him as many followers as he could muster, including a large number of ambitious soldiers, mercenaries, and fortune-seekers who believed in his vision of a greater Azlant. Together, Xin and his small army of devotees sailed to the shores of Avistan with a careful plan, and on landing, built their first settlement near what is now known as Hollow Mountain, naming the city Xin-Bakrakhan and their fledgling kingdom Thassilon.
The immediate years following Xin-Bakrakhan’s founding were a curious mix of battles waged against the existing human and elven tribes of the land and of swift expansion through the rich realms of Thassilon’s provinces. The empire spread first along the coast and then inward to the Kodar Mountains and beyond, establishing the provinces of Edasseril, Cyrusian, and Shalast in addition to Bakrakhan. Though the native peoples of these lands—the Varisians and the Shoanti—were initially hostile toward the entrepreneurial First King Xin, the commerce he brought with him as well as the tools of his civilization were a great boon to the simple Avistani nomads, who came to rely on the empire for their necessities in but a short period of time.
One nation, however, stood its ground against the newcomers: Mierani, a small forest-kingdom of elves west of the Velashu Uplands. Though the noble elves are now largely remembered in the name of the Mierani Forest, their woodlands once filled all the lands between Bakrakhan and Edasseril, and their power was too great for Thassilon to displace. The standoff between the two nations cooled shortly after their initial confrontations, but throughout their existences the two nations frequently engaged in minor acts of sabotage and border-skirmishes. Legends state that the ruler of the province of Edasseril took her kingdom’s name from the elven princess of Mierani at the time because she was jealous of the forest-empire’s grace and beauty, and hoped that by stealing the name of its most beautiful princess she’d also steal its legacy in history.
While it was soon apparent that Xin’s optimism and trust in his runelords was sadly misplaced, the First King did not live long enough to see his empire completely fall to the depredations of his corrupt governors. After 110 years of ruling Thassilon, Xin was assailed by powerful agents of the runelords, sent to the imperial palace to assassinate him. He had prepared for such treachery, however, and in a final conflagration of awe-inspiring magic, Xin consumed both himself and his enemies in an inferno of crimson flames, torching most of the imperial palace, obliterating his remains, and splitting up the Sihedron. Xin had arranged for his magical resurrection should the Sihedron ever be put back together, but the runelords suspected his plot and split up Xin’s mysterious artifact so that he could not rise upon its reconstruction. The seven wizards seized total control over their realms in Thassilon, ultimately leading their people to vulgar decadence and constant infighting. Each kingdom’s partisans openly brawled on city streets, and the runelords’ militaries frequently clashed on the field of war as Thassilon became a shadow of its former majesty.
A thousand years after the emperor’s death, the current runelords had become a nightmare of egotism. Truly, each championed one of Xin’s virtues of rule, and each claimed for him or herself the mantel of Xin’s succession and wisdom, but in so doing, the runelords were rendered blind to how they transformed the teachings of Xin and Lissala into the seven deadly sins of envy, gluttony, greed, lust, pride, sloth, and wrath. To fight greater battles and build taller monuments, the runelords enslaved giants and created gargantuan statues to themselves. Colossal towers, bridges, and monoliths stand throughout northwestern Avistan to this day, though their original purposes have been lost to history. In truth, most served no purpose but to satisfy the runelords’ vanity.
In the end, Thassilon grew too decadent and massive to sustain itself. Its virtues evaporated and were replaced by sin and vice. So outsized were its cities and so vast were its final populations that by the time Earthfall devastated Golarion, Thassilon was already tottering from its bloated size, the impossibility of its transporting and distributing vital goods, and the sheer magnitude of the resulting hunger and desperation. The slightest shift in the allocation of foodstuffs and giant slaves was enough to trigger mass rioting, starvation, and decades of bitter war over the remaining elements of the nation’s raw power.
Thassilon did not collapse overnight. In some ways, it should have been well prepared for calamity, with its powerful magical tools, despotic rulers, and everyday cruelties. But its citizens certainly suffered because of the Starstone’s impact; after Earthfall, the people of Thassilon died in droves as the oceans rose up to destroy Bakrakhan and Edasseril and flood the swamplands of Eurythnia. Giants slipped their shackles and wrought havoc on cities. Even the runelords fought for food and resources as cities drowned and millions died from plague, famine, and the great tsunamis that overran the coasts of three provinces. In inland regions, new mountains thrust cities and fertile fields high into the icy, airless heights, spoiling all hope of raising crops. When the runelords realized Lissala had turned her back on Thassilon and they could no longer bind the giants and dragons they had come to rely on during their reign, the evil wizards enacted carefully laid plans to escape the devastation. Ancient tales say that most—if not all—of the runelords fled to hidden fortresses guarded by powerful artifacts known as runewells. If such myths are to be believed, the runelords linger in stasis, awaiting the day their runewells reawaken and they can unleash their arcane might on a new, unsuspecting era.
Despite Thassilon’s fall, a few Thassilonian cities held on in the form of ruins. Though many such sites remain hidden in the treacherous mountains and valleys throughout the Storval Plateau, others have survived and now form the foundation of present-day holdings in Varisia, Belkzen, and the Lands of the Linnorm Kings. Riddleport, Korvosa, and Magnimar all possess clues linking the great cities to ancient Thassilon, as do countless other smaller settlements and townships. Though Thassilon died, new kingdoms were built on its bones, and fragments of rune magic are commonplace in almost every part of present-day Varisia.
The immediate years following Xin-Bakrakhan’s founding were a curious mix of battles waged against the existing human and elven tribes of the land and of swift expansion through the rich realms of Thassilon’s provinces. The empire spread first along the coast and then inward to the Kodar Mountains and beyond, establishing the provinces of Edasseril, Cyrusian, and Shalast in addition to Bakrakhan. Though the native peoples of these lands—the Varisians and the Shoanti—were initially hostile toward the entrepreneurial First King Xin, the commerce he brought with him as well as the tools of his civilization were a great boon to the simple Avistani nomads, who came to rely on the empire for their necessities in but a short period of time.
One nation, however, stood its ground against the newcomers: Mierani, a small forest-kingdom of elves west of the Velashu Uplands. Though the noble elves are now largely remembered in the name of the Mierani Forest, their woodlands once filled all the lands between Bakrakhan and Edasseril, and their power was too great for Thassilon to displace. The standoff between the two nations cooled shortly after their initial confrontations, but throughout their existences the two nations frequently engaged in minor acts of sabotage and border-skirmishes. Legends state that the ruler of the province of Edasseril took her kingdom’s name from the elven princess of Mierani at the time because she was jealous of the forest-empire’s grace and beauty, and hoped that by stealing the name of its most beautiful princess she’d also steal its legacy in history.
Xin's Appointment
As Thassilon’s reach and influence continued to grow, Xin appointed seven of his most powerful wizard allies to act as governors, splitting his empire into seven domains. Xin’s governors—who became known as the runelords— each focused on one of the seven schools of rune magic that Xin had helped define, methodologies that stemmed from the seven Azlanti virtues of rule and coincided with the teachings of Thassilon’s patron goddess, Lissala. They held that in order for Thassilon to prosper, its leaders would need to embrace wealth, fertility, honest pride, abundance, eager striving, righteous anger, and rest. But not long after their appointment by King Xin, the runelords corrupted these noble virtues into the seven sins. While there were certainly others, the runelords best known to history are greedy Karzoug in Shalast, lustful Sorshen in Eurythnia, prideful Xanderghul in Cyrusian, gluttonous Zutha in Gastash, envious Belimarius in Edasseril, wrathful Alaznist in Bakrakhan, and slothful Krune in Haruka. These powerful tyrants ruled their separate kingdoms up until Thassilon’s collapse, and some of them for centuries beforehand.While it was soon apparent that Xin’s optimism and trust in his runelords was sadly misplaced, the First King did not live long enough to see his empire completely fall to the depredations of his corrupt governors. After 110 years of ruling Thassilon, Xin was assailed by powerful agents of the runelords, sent to the imperial palace to assassinate him. He had prepared for such treachery, however, and in a final conflagration of awe-inspiring magic, Xin consumed both himself and his enemies in an inferno of crimson flames, torching most of the imperial palace, obliterating his remains, and splitting up the Sihedron. Xin had arranged for his magical resurrection should the Sihedron ever be put back together, but the runelords suspected his plot and split up Xin’s mysterious artifact so that he could not rise upon its reconstruction. The seven wizards seized total control over their realms in Thassilon, ultimately leading their people to vulgar decadence and constant infighting. Each kingdom’s partisans openly brawled on city streets, and the runelords’ militaries frequently clashed on the field of war as Thassilon became a shadow of its former majesty.
After Xin
A thousand years after the emperor’s death, the current runelords had become a nightmare of egotism. Truly, each championed one of Xin’s virtues of rule, and each claimed for him or herself the mantel of Xin’s succession and wisdom, but in so doing, the runelords were rendered blind to how they transformed the teachings of Xin and Lissala into the seven deadly sins of envy, gluttony, greed, lust, pride, sloth, and wrath. To fight greater battles and build taller monuments, the runelords enslaved giants and created gargantuan statues to themselves. Colossal towers, bridges, and monoliths stand throughout northwestern Avistan to this day, though their original purposes have been lost to history. In truth, most served no purpose but to satisfy the runelords’ vanity.
In the end, Thassilon grew too decadent and massive to sustain itself. Its virtues evaporated and were replaced by sin and vice. So outsized were its cities and so vast were its final populations that by the time Earthfall devastated Golarion, Thassilon was already tottering from its bloated size, the impossibility of its transporting and distributing vital goods, and the sheer magnitude of the resulting hunger and desperation. The slightest shift in the allocation of foodstuffs and giant slaves was enough to trigger mass rioting, starvation, and decades of bitter war over the remaining elements of the nation’s raw power.
Thassilon did not collapse overnight. In some ways, it should have been well prepared for calamity, with its powerful magical tools, despotic rulers, and everyday cruelties. But its citizens certainly suffered because of the Starstone’s impact; after Earthfall, the people of Thassilon died in droves as the oceans rose up to destroy Bakrakhan and Edasseril and flood the swamplands of Eurythnia. Giants slipped their shackles and wrought havoc on cities. Even the runelords fought for food and resources as cities drowned and millions died from plague, famine, and the great tsunamis that overran the coasts of three provinces. In inland regions, new mountains thrust cities and fertile fields high into the icy, airless heights, spoiling all hope of raising crops. When the runelords realized Lissala had turned her back on Thassilon and they could no longer bind the giants and dragons they had come to rely on during their reign, the evil wizards enacted carefully laid plans to escape the devastation. Ancient tales say that most—if not all—of the runelords fled to hidden fortresses guarded by powerful artifacts known as runewells. If such myths are to be believed, the runelords linger in stasis, awaiting the day their runewells reawaken and they can unleash their arcane might on a new, unsuspecting era.
Despite Thassilon’s fall, a few Thassilonian cities held on in the form of ruins. Though many such sites remain hidden in the treacherous mountains and valleys throughout the Storval Plateau, others have survived and now form the foundation of present-day holdings in Varisia, Belkzen, and the Lands of the Linnorm Kings. Riddleport, Korvosa, and Magnimar all possess clues linking the great cities to ancient Thassilon, as do countless other smaller settlements and townships. Though Thassilon died, new kingdoms were built on its bones, and fragments of rune magic are commonplace in almost every part of present-day Varisia.
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