The Dead Vales

Within the land formerly known as The Vales there existed a long standing cult of necromancy. This cult known as the Cult of the Black Sun silently pulled at the strings of the world, gathering artifacts, silencing rumors, and making friends in high places. Even killing those necromancers and undead that were not allied with the Cult. All to serve one purpose. Blot out the Sun.

And to make a very long story short: they succeeded.

Their plan took generations but the undead had time and patience to spare. It required the corpses of great beasts that once protected the land, sea, and air, but rewriting history so these beasts are seen as great plagues is simple for the oldest beings on the planet. It required great ancient magic, but adventurers are easy to trick and will deliver magic items and ancient secrets both for the promise of coin. Mighty kingdoms stood in their way, but well placed schemes and whispered words were enough to cause just enough chaos to buy the ritual time.

Now inky black shadow covers the sun slowly choking the life and light out of the world. Crops fail even in fertile soil. Snow falls even where desert heat once raged. Undead shamble where once the living happily strolled. The Vales have died and now fester and rot like a corpse.

Vampires walk through what was once daylight now only a pale imitation of radiance. Survivors huddle underground around the lights of crystals or flame eating mushrooms and burrowing creatures. Endless corpses shamble and search for the spark of life so they may stamp it out once and for all.

A small woman sits on a cliff that once held her home above the sea. Now her old manor is a pile of bricks and timber half submerged in the sea at this cliff's foot. House Ravenbrood is long lost. And this green haired woman with glowing amber eyes slowly exhales as tears roll down her cheeks. Her whole world has been destroyed and there very much may be no hope that it could ever be restored.

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See also: Magic Lore, Lore Index