Three centuries ago, something fell from the sky and struck the continent of Entarria. In the years that followed, a new god rose among the humans, and an empire rose with him. They armed it with blackpowder and fuelled it with Magicite, and they called it the Holy Aether Empire. And for a time, it was.
When the Empire's explorers crossed the Sunwell Ocean and found Nothis, a wild continent rich with Mythril and Magicite beyond imagining, the race to claim it began. The Teridan Confederation, an alliance of Elves, Dwarves, and Gnomes, had the same idea. The race became a war. The war became the Scouring.
No one knows exactly what happened. Something was attempted with Magicite, something catastrophic, and it took both sides with it. Humans were scoured from the world almost entirely. Elves vanished into myth. The cities and mines and roads survived. The people didn't. Some say magic still moves strangely in those empty places. Most people know better than to check.
Decades have passed. The world has not recovered. But people still need to eat, and roads still lead somewhere, and in a frontier village called Wyvernfen, a dying man has just stumbled in from the east with a map sewn into his chest.
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