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Welcome to Sundered Weave

There was a time before the fractured light war that the world and its people saw the glory that was magic, divine or arcane. Leaders from every civilization sat at the table in the hall of oak, a council of leaders from around the world who possessed the ability to weave magic and enforced rule for the betterment of all Talaran’s. Children were taught how to responsibly utilize magic in their lives at an early age so as to better serve all in advancing as a people later on in their adult lives.

Then tragedy struck from within the halls of oak. An archmage by the name of Rafosin Gallimore, the sole notary of magical law, was found dead at his own desk. Foul play was immediately brought up and the council of oak quickly started pointing blame and splintered into two groups. Malik Baldesh, a highly revered mage, was the first to suspect corruption amongst the wizards; those wanting to take over the position that Rafosin had held for nearly 200 years. This was taken poorly amongst some of the council, especially Yando Agis, known for his wealth and piety. He believed that Malik and others were at the head of the murder, attempting to cause chaos amongst the council in an attempt to take it over.

Divided, Malik left with nearly half of the council following suit. In the years after, the land fell into a quiet lull and Malik took over the position of notary of magical law and a bounty was put on the head of the deserters of the council. The deserters, now turn rebels, appeared in every city or state armed and prepared for battle. They sought the following of other mages in preparations to take back a poisoned state. Upon learning this, Yando grew into a furious rage, ordering that all able bodied mages in the immediate vicinity prepare for war. Thus began the great fractured light war. After nearly 20 years of constant battle, the day of echoing finally arrived. A day that no one would ever forget. The council, gathered their elementals in the field of battle and, using the force of nature, decimated nearly all of the rebel forces with one foul swoop. Malik… sacrificing himself, plunged into mount Armon, magically imbuing the surrounding obsidian with his magical mark. Resonating only with those energies he allied with.

With this, his followers created rift shards, magical shards capable of creating pocket dimensions where they fled in retreat. It was not much longer, after the dust settled, that new rules were put in place. No magic, of any sort may be used unless sanctioned by the council. Some believe this to be ill willed to control the populous while others believe it in the best interest of the people; to prevent the devastation left in the wars wake. Now, 85 years later, in a weather worn world created by that final echo, mages are making their slow return… whispers amongst shadows and tales told only at ears length. What side, will you be on?

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