Aeryth

Poets and bards spin stories of a time when the gods and men walked hand in hand up and down the world, when magic was as common as hunger and the kingdoms of men were at peace. They’ll say the last of magic burnt itself out years ago, when the Resurrection War used up the last of the magic that was left in the world, leaving only the Burning Lands behind. They’ll say the Broken Moon was once the only moon in the sky, before the Demon Moon come and broker her.   That may be, but I’ve never known anyone who’s known but two moons in their life, or seen anything more magical than a playing card disappear from a conjurer’s hand on fair day. I’ve sailed up and down the Tranquil Coast, and seen every city in the League of Brennan. I’ve met elves and dwarves and orcs and halflings, but not one of them made any claims to godhood.   There’s a hundred stories and a hundred gods between the Tranquil Sea and the Desert of Nod, if you’re inclined to believe them. Stories of floating cities and towers so tall they pierce the sky, of dragons and demons and snake men and fish men and men without faces who steal children in the night, and others who can call down the thunder with a flick of their hand. Personally, I’ve never been of a mind to believe any of that in particular. But I’m not too proud to admit to seeing a few things lately to give even a sober woman pause. Orc tribes on the move, running from something even they refuse to say. The tide going out when it should be coming in. And I’ll be a dwarven dancer if the Demon Moon itself didn’t show a different face last harvest season.   And then there’s the whispers and rumors you hear in the tap rooms and taverns. Not the usual tall tales and fish stories. The ones people tell with furtive looks and worried faces. Not the wild stories people tell when they hope you’ll believe them, but the ones they tell when they’re hoping you’ll prove their wrong.   Something’s in the air, alright, and no denying. Everyone’s got the feeling that something’s returning, or something that’s long been sleeping is stirring. The gods know what, if they even exist. But gods or no, something’s coming. And the Demon Moon is rising.