History

Years ago, a voyage of exploration by the races of the Taumur became one of discovery when they sailed into view of the shores of Harth. Seeking landfall after so long at sea, the three Taumur ships and their crews were overwhelmed by the raw natural beauty and untamed wilds of this new land they had discovered. Shortly after their arrival, they encountered Human natives for the first time. Communicating through symbol and expression, the Taumur found the Humans to be primitive, and clinging to an archaic way of life, including primitive dwellings, arcane rituals, and polytheistic worship of a variety of gods.

What occurred next remains a mystery still unsolved even in current times, but of the three Taumur ships to sail to Harth, only one returned to their home continent of Aerandir. The surviving Gnome captain told a tale of barbarism and bloodshed, and thus was the invasion of Harth born. The Taumur recognized that Harth offered a bounty of resources that the denizens of Aerandir needed, and the discovery of a new land would propel a new generation of explorers across the sea.

The next ships to arrive brought warriors, Dwarves, Elves, and Gnomes all. In a short time they seized the largest city on Harth, and when they discovered the second largest, they took it too. The Humans fought back, using dark arts, and allying with brutish creatures most Taumur only knew from dreams and nightmares. The Taumur did not slaughter those they captured, but worked to improve their lives, bringing architecture, engineering, and medicine to the shores of Harth. As the war waged further inland, the Taumur used their captured cities as havens to bring their families to this new continent. Soon Taumur and Humans lived together in relative peace in these newly renamed Taumur centers. Learning and culture were spread, and the war seemed very far away.

Better armed and armored, deploying weapons that could fell a fort or tower with ease, the Taumur were winning the war, and the death blow set sail from Aerandir, in the form of hundreds of ships bearing thousands of new warriors, and their families. The Human resistance would soon be broken, and the Taumur would claim two lands as their home. Then came an event so devastating, that all cultures who measured days and years would rename their calendars to account for it. There was the time before, and then there would be the time after:

The Fracturing.

The land of Harth shook asunder. Earthquakes would rend the land, just as tsunami's would bring the sea ashore. Tidal waves washed away entire fishing villages, and devastated the largest Taumur cities, breaking their fleets like twigs on the rocks of the shore. Wind became storm, and storm became tornados that scattered herds, destroyed farms, and separated families. Landslides prevented overland travel, and would choke out once rushing rivers to become fragmented collections of creeks and streams. These damaged tributaries could no longer support any animal, whether they walked on two legs or four. Fields became deserts, and deserts became wastelands. Marshlands were turned into fetid swamps that flooded the surrounding areas, ruining fertile fields and farmland. Finally, a massive rift in the earth opened in the midst of the great plains of Harth. The bottom was so deep it could not be seen from above, and the tear in the earth ran so long it was measured in days traveled, not steps walked.

The mighty Taumur fleet would never arrive. The Taumur settlements along the shore were either washed away, or devastated by the water. Entire fleets, of warship and fishing boat alike were smashed into splinters. Taumur fighting inland were suddenly cut off from their supply routes, and in some cases from their only safe havens. Many were forced to survive off the land, their orders abandoned as they struggled to survive. Other Taumur defected, living as they could, alone and on the run, or, if they could gain the trust of their former enemies, they began to take up arms against their old allies and friends, intent on stopping a war they believe should never have started.

Human families were ripped apart, with many forced to migrate great distances in search of safer lands, or even fresh water and food. Some resistance fighters would find themselves isolated geographically, and forced to work with their enemies in the Taumur for mutual survival. Each group expecting the other to betray them at any moment. Worse for the Humans, two sudden shifts occurred. Their ability to draw upon arcane energy to defend their homes and to fight was lost. Mighty spells could no longer be cast, and enchanted items could no longer be made. Those that commanded such magic could only do so fleetingly, and seeming at random.

They were not alone.

The Human priests also found their divine voices silenced, and discovered that prayer and pious actions no longer brought them any favor from the gods, nor any spells. It mattered not the prayer or the power asked for, all of the pantheon had gone silent, and the inability to heal the massive numbers of gravely injured or dying around them would drive many priests to despair or madness.

The changes wrought to the land by invasion, war, devastation, and The Fracturing have nearly destroyed life on Harth. Yet each group clings to survival now, some acting on their last known order or instinct, others struggling to live, forced to abandon a cause that no longer brings them any comfort. The Humans are trying to regroup, to organize their resistance one last time, before the Taumur crush them forever. The Taumur desperately need to rebuild their settlements, and set sail once more, to look for their lost fleet, or find their way home to create another. They are attempting to defend from a Human attack they expect any day, with some Taumur convinced that The Fracturing was a Human act, designed to murder every Taumur man, woman, and child.

To add to the peril of all, a new threat has emerged from the massive rift on Harth, in the form of terrible creatures with insatiable appetites for blood and death. Slaying resistance members and Taumur alike, these monsters are born of pure evil, and care little for the struggles of those they hunt.

Through all this strife, some seek only safe passage, to find lost loved ones, and some to find the lost gods. Each has a journey to make, and they all reflect on where their journey has taken them thus far:

As though they look into a Mirror, and embark on a journey of reflections.