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| #1EberronJunkieApr 29, 2008 0:41:22 | My campaign setting is on the world Ajur Materia and is for fourth edition. Technology level is set to middle to late iron age, so think republic roman empire etc, but i will be using many different cultures to explore different areas of Ajur. Here is a LONG yet abridged story of the history of Ajur Materia, currently looking for resources to pool ideas from. Anything with a conan the barbarian to celtic arthur would be preferred, thats 200 AD arthur, not excalibur arthur with all the shiny metal armour. Think iron and bronze armour, not steel. History of Ajur Ajur is a balancing point in the cosmos, a realm under the scheming eyes of both Gods and Primordials. Ajur is the middle ground between the swirling Elemental Chaos and the deceptively placid Astral Sea. Both Gods and Primordials are prohibited from direct intervention upon the realm, an all powerful barrier was erected by a near omnipotent nameless creator spirit during the first and last great planar war. This war on Ajur splintered and fractured the plane into three askew realms, Ajur Materia, the Feywild and the Shadowfell. Ajur was formed under the will of a creator spirit from both the essence of the Astral Sea and the primordial ingredients of the Elemental Chaos, each converging and mixing, undulating and folding upon it until a blazing blast of energy conjured an infant universe, steadily growing as it fed from its parent planes. The nameless creator spirit, using much of its own personal energy in the birth of this new reality, coiled in on itself and began its eon slumber of recuperation within the churning cosmic forge at the centre of this new Ajur Materia. The gods of the Astral Sea, beings of essence and magic without distinct physical form felt the call of this new cosmic realm and breaching its planar boundary, found themselves upon the still cooling surface of Ajur. Likewise, the Primordials, fluid amorphous beings of great chaotic power, pierced the bridge between the realms, shaking the new earth with their sundering footsteps. The two groups found Ajur to their liking, its matter and fresh cascading magic easily manipulated by their home planes energies; soon many of these powerful beings were crafting Ajur into images to their liking. Mountains sprang up from barren flat wastes under the efforts of these immortals; waters were also diverted to burrow through the earth, carving out caverns beneath the surface before erupting and wending their way to the still boiling oceans. Ajur was lightless and lifeless however, a twilight realm, but such was to change. Arguments sprang up, as is their want, between the Gods and Primordials, for each group, indeed each individual had differing opinions on the shape of the world, of where it should be directed in the future, of who indeed, should rule this new ‘playground’. Fighting broke out, when all negotiations had failed small scuffles at first and then lines were drawn in the proverbial sand. Primordials and Gods prepared for war, and when the first true clash came, the plane itself shook with fear and anticipation. Both sides suffered casualties, Gods, their divine essence sundered and dispersed, evaporated into both the air and earth. Primordials, their protoplasmic shells sliced open, unleashed their chaotic elemental soup into the seething oceans, jet plumes firing from the water in its wake. Great magical battles ensued, slicing reality into ribbons; parts of Ajur were simply phased out of their normal space-time and into slightly askew realms, both apart and a part of Ajur proper. Thus the Feywild and Shadowfell were created in this time of strife. Such was the unbinding of the newly formed bubble of existence that pin prick holes were formed allowing the nothing between the planes a glimpse inside, unspeakable entities gathered at such points of light in their darkened and seething realm, a window into the material that consumed them with the lust to possess such a jewel. The sun was forged during this tumultuous time, the fiery blood of a great Primordial was fused with the dying essence of a God, thus creating a searing incandescent magical fire that was cast up into the sky before it consumed the earth, a seething ball of molten energy endlessly raging, it circles Ajur to this day. The moon was shaped from the deepest bedrock of Ajur, the primal clay that had never bore witness to such violence and calamity during its early years, its deep stone freshly cooling in the whispering winds of Ajur’s sky, was hurled as a titanic projectile by a lordly Primordial at the opposing divine host. The gods used their great powers to redirect this wayward missile into the heavens, the fresh moon eventually coming to a fixed revolution around Ajur, its surface cooling in the chill of space; it now mirrors the glimmering light of the sun, its virgin surface the sole evidence of Ajur’s once placid earth. The creator spirit, its rest unfinished, was awaked from the commotion and desecration of its newest ‘child’, its cocoon at the core of Ajur Materia broken with the delving of the moon. Its wrath was terrible, Primordials and Gods alike fled from its damning gaze, many were struck down as they ran, their energy and souls drawn to the creator and diffused to heal the scars of Ajur. Wherever this raw mix of soul and animus, of God and Primordial touched, life sprang forth, simple life, mono celled and brainless, but life none the less, with the flicker of a soul. These new proto forms spilled out into both the Feywild and Shadowfell as well, clambering and oozing into all areas of Ajur like the foam upon a storm wracked shore. The creator, its fury sated at seeing this new and precious event, scattered the Gods and Primordials to their home realms and sealed Ajur within a nigh impenetrable protective barrier. Its energies again nearly spent, the creator sought its core refuge once more to return to its eon slumber, leaving the fresh forms of life upon Ajur to their own evolutionary devices. Evolutionary processes took hold upon Ajur Materia; slowly both natural phenomena and magical energies shaped the proto life into more and more complex forms to suit the newly formed seasons, atmosphere and waters in the wake of the planar war of both heaven and earth. Both sun and moon dancing across the sky, created day and night, both with a small but recovering sentience of their former selves. The same took place in the echo realms of the Feywild and Shadowfell, suffused with raw energy, the inhabitants of these mirror planes took on forms both fantastic and awe inspiring. Time scythed out nearly an age before sentience grew to fruition upon Ajur. Reptilian beings freshly hatching from millennia of magical exposure and evolutionary trial and error were the first with the spark of intellect. Great was their might, and furious was their wrath, these living engines of elemental power could both take to the skies and delve deep into the earth with ravaging claws and thick scales. Dragons they came to be known as by the younger races in the coming ages, but for now they called themselves Ajura, meaning “first of Ajur”. These mighty flying creatures carved out a multitude of empires to suit their territorial nature, for despite this flame of thought brewing in their minds, still they were simple beasts, prone to lust and hunger, violence and greed. This age of Dragons did not bode well for the other burgeoning forms life of Ajur, smaller and weaker than the great lizards they were at a disadvantage. Ever fearful of the great sweeping shadows of these terrible reptiles, refuge was sought under the eaves of the thick forests, or within the lashing long grass of the open plains. Many Dragons disliked the chilling weather of the harsh north and wind swept south, and so those species with a glimmer of soul, a turning cog or two or cognizance, hid themselves away in such climes, bundling themselves up with the hides of great beasts. Those who went south with their kin were the ancestors of today’s dwarves, collectively known as the Drogoun, they settled amongst the deep canyons and sweeping grasslands of southern Ajur. In the north, upon the tundra wastes, the Arumani fled their draconic tormenters, taller than the Drogoun, these mortal folk would one day become humanity, in its entire multicultural splendor. Thos who stayed were known as Keytoo, shorter in stature than other races and stealthy by nature, the Keytoo were agile and fleet of foot, able to hide away in a moments notice from their dragon overlords. Eventually the Keytoo found solace in the deep grass plains and marsh lands of Ajur proper, their clan and family structure creating a firm foundation eventually developing into the Halfling race of today. Of course the races were not wholly unified, each leaving tribes and communities who would not leave their ancestral lands behind, who would not leave both hearth and home despite the tyrant lizards danger. Thus Ajur became seeded with disparate peoples. There were those who would not leave and those who settled down before their great migrations were complete, finding respite in hidden valleys and upon sheltered shores, and those that reached their designated destinations at the north and southern edges of the world. Several of the peoples who stayed behind were subjugated by their draconic masters as food, slaves and experimental stock. However not all Dragons were evil tormenters; there were those that cared dearly for these little folk, if not simply for amusement rather than any semblance of benevolence. It was in this era of both enslavement and protection the Dragonborn were crafted from the mixing of Arumani and Ajura blood. Mighty and wise dragons upon the western shores of Ajur proper forged these new beings in secret from their less forgiving kin, who may have seen the sullying of dragon blood as blasphemy. This new species bred true, becoming a proud race of beings both strong and intelligent. Naming themselves the Akesh, an ancient draconic word for ‘brother’ or “kin-friend”, the Dragonborn often saw themselves as a bridging race between dragons and the lesser species, mediators for their masters will and were thus often employed as overseers to quash slave uprising and dissidence in areas of agitation, or wise council in places of learning. Many humans and dwarves, the descendants of their subjugated forebears still harbor ill will to the Dragonborn of the current era for the sins of their fathers, often resulting in drunken scuffles at the local drinking establishment or even blood feuds that go back generations. Within the Feywild the spark of life had flourished as it had on Ajur Materia. The Eladrin, tall, slender and long lived had sprung up from its magic infused roots like a verdant bloom. Not alone in such a realm, a plethora of fey had spawned in chaotic bursts across the capricious realm, creating somewhat of a savage and wild frontier, where predator and prey constantly danced for supremacy. The Ophir, a smaller race of fey also felt the call of sentience like the Eladrin had. Furtive beings, the preamble form of current era gnomes, often ran amok in the forest undergrowth and the deep secret places of the Feywild causing all forms of mischief or hunting their prey in packs, combining stealth and speed with a flair for the arcane. The Shadowfell, its energies subtle and seething, did not embrace life wholesale as its brighter kin, instead it called to the souls of all beings, as a place of last refuge, happy in its way to be the gateway to a final rest. The spirits of Ajur found their home in this shadow realm of twilight and aimless time, a place of solace for their thoughts or to brood in bitter dreams and gnash their teeth as they sleep. Thus ended the first age of creation, the first turning of the great wheel of destiny that set in motion the events of the morrow was drawing near to the end of a revolution. With the setting of one sun however there is always the promise of a new dawn. A new age was already on the horizon, breaking from its shell, one of blood and fire, magic and terror, discovery and lament, pride and peace. The new age was ushered in with the weakening of many planar boundaries causing shudders across the physical realms. The unfathomable beings of utter madness from outside reality had unceasingly been chipping away at the borderlines of Ajur Materia, from the initial pin prick hole created millennia in the past to now a spider web of indistinct cracks in the shell of the universe. This sent cosmic shudders through mystical fault lines that had been repaired eons ago during the Great War in heaven and earth. The barriers weakened, both the Astral Sea and Elemental Chaos were now linked once more to Ajur, though not as strongly as in ages past. Now both gods and primordials could feel the familiar intangible glow of the plane, vastly changed from when they had been banished from its surface, it was now riddled with the small fragile souls of mortals, the progeny of their vengeful creator. Both gods and primordials, seeing the potential within these frail mortal forms, offered the wisdom and insight of the ages to those with the spirit to listen, sewing the seeds of civilization within the lesser races. The Feywild and Shadowfell had also felt these shivers of reality. Haphazard portals began to open between the mirror realms and Ajur Materia, allowing beings to traverse between these linked realms. Thus the ancestors of the Elves came to Ajur, a break off splinter cadre of the true Eladrin culture; they migrated from their mystical plane through these fissures of space and time. These whisper light beings called themselves the Luvinal; they were shapers and avengers of the natural world, flighty wraiths amongst the wilds of Ajur, stalking their prey with swift wrath, these Luvinal were capricious in their targets. The Ophir often traveled in the Luvinal’s wake, hot on their heels for new experiences and prey. Thus the other mortal races, those native of Ajur Materia, soon learned to fear the ancient and savage places of the world, lest the eyes of the fey fall upon them, quickly followed by their arrows. The years flowed like leaves upon a rushing river, burgeoning civilizations flourished, forming empires and kingdoms, before entropy toppled them asunder, scattering their ashes amongst the survivors. Often these were to be rebuilt anew upon the skeleton of the old, reformed in the forge of progress and the discovery of new technologies. The whispers of the gods and primordials often guided the fates of mortals to their own ends, causing both calamity and renewal, laying the foundations for these new civilizations, prompting mortals to idolize these ancient beings for their gifts of knowledge. Playing upon the mortal fear of death and the unknown many gods had temples and shrines erected in their honor with promises of everlasting life at their side should they remain faithful, for the souls of mortals strengthened the gods and primordials hold upon Ajur Materia, thus weakening the planar barrier that barred these awesome beings a firm foothold upon the realm. The Dragons grew complacent in their role as tyrant of the lesser mortals, and many were toppled or slain by their followers, often at the behest of their deities. Such successes were passed from nation to nation until these great beings of elemental fury and aerial dynamism were scattered and bereft of their once great glory. As the draconic empires fell from dominance the lesser races became the dictators of their own destinies, spreading, mingling and reuniting across the length and breadth of Ajur, ties of kinship were met with either bitter feuding or the firm embrace of reunited friends, setting the political and diplomatic map for decades to come. The Dragons were scattered to the four winds to lick their wounds, beings of great cunning and power, they were not to be undone so easily, and many still exist within Ajur, brooding or sleeping away the decades, crafting plans of ingenuity and such brilliance it amazes even their pride filled souls. Some gods saw the power of this great race of intelligent beasts and insinuated their will upon the draconic psyche, inspiring these reptiles to greater heights than simple dictatorship. Thus many dragons grew to become scholars and tacticians, marshals of war and shrewd negotiators. With their incredible life spans many dragons grew enamored with the gathering of all aspects of knowledge, becoming accomplished spell crafters and constructing collections of tablets and tomes, scrolls and stone to hoard away against the elements. Some dragons shunned the whispers of the gods, embracing the raw power of the primordials, reveling in the sheer primal terror of mortals and embracing the magical might gifted to them by their new benefactors, these dragons became the scourge of Ajur, and at the behest of their primordial masters, these draconic brutes cut great swathes of carnage into the new legions of god faithful mortals. New vibrant nations often sprang from the old, melting pots of different races and cultures crafting states of unity and power. Often dragonborn, humans and dwarves collaborated in many areas to fuel the fires of civilization and magic, elsewhere they fell into racial and ethnic tensions, splintering into factions where blood was thicker than the waters of tolerance and friendship, often resulting in the breakdown of diplomatic ties and in some cases leading to full scale conflict. Arcane magic was codified and ritualized during this age of discovery; orders of learned mortals were forged, in secret or as part of a nations overarching society, some to protect and serve, others to hoard research and uncover hidden knowledge and some to usurp and garner the power to rule those deemed lesser beings. Over time magic became the providence of the learned and influential, those with the spark of talent were found young and taken to be tutored in the art of becoming full fledged wizards, lest their talents be wasted or misused. Soon the arcane had insinuated itself into the fabric of many nations cultures, used as a tool like any other, it became something to be respected as any other skilled trade, for only a few select individuals had the knowledge to employ magic, thus being a limited and rare commodity, as those touched with the ability to weave magic were few and diverse, it was treasured. The Jadari nations of the northern tundra, descendants of those that forsook all others to escape the dragons and their reign were a people who embraced magic in both maniacal and incredible ways. In a diabolic ritual that wracked the skies and extinguished the aurora lights that dance across the north skies of Ajur, Jadari high mystics called down unholy being to grant their people power. Wholly evil entities of the astral sea answered their call, apostles of the arch devil himself, these denizens struck a bargain with the leaders of the Jadari, granted a great boon in return for the souls of thousands of slaves. The pact sealed in a ritual of sacrifice and the bloodied gurgles of victims drowning in their own blood, the Jadari soon realized the price paid to the devils of the nine hells was higher than they had foresaw. The Jadari were gifted with power, but such power wracked and misshaped their human forms, horns grew from their brow in a mockery of a halo, their skin thickened and was burnished a stale blood crimson, and tails sprang from the seat of the spines, elongating and curvaceous to a barbed tip. It was in this way the Tiefling race was given its first breath upon Ajur, the progeny of human arrogance and diabolic sorcery, this new race, united under their pact marked flesh, sought both power and conquest on a world spanning scale. The years drip dropped into the pool of centuries, kingdoms rose and fell upon the earth, the maggots of their collapsing corpses littering the wilderness like lost children wandering aimlessly, mortal creatures scattering from the carcass and birthing cities anew. The very earth is altered with the whittling scrimshaw of civilization, both above and below ground the tap tapping of progress’ hammer guides Ajur ever onwards. Today the city empires of old have grown to fruition amongst the leagues of wilderness and savage frontier. Ruins abound from the failures of the past, tombs for both the treasure of the dead and forgotten lore. War has left its scarring mark upon the land, old battles now marked with the rusted and bleached remains of those struck down far from their home soil. Thus ends the second age of Ajur Materia and the beginning of the new, the game is afoot, the pieces made ready for placement. What this new turning of fortunes great wheel holds none but the wisest seers may slightly fathom. |