The Lost Art

Thrylia. Long ago, a land of magic. A land whose mages were world famous, whose connection to the Arcane was unmatched on the Prime. Where kings were like unto the gods, and the word of a noble could end the stories of rival continents. It was a land of power.

Not so any longer. One thousand years hence, the nations of each of the civilized races of the land gathered and sought to end the destruction that greed had caused for millennia. They revolutionized the priorities of the land, driving their people toward enlightenment and study, toward advancement without the Art, without Magic. Fearing a repetition of past horrors, the people of Thrylia looked to their histories. By neglecting the future, they learned much.

Society was said to have advanced for centuries. The average man knew more about the way the world worked than foreign experts.

As the people’s connection to magic faded, so too did the land’s. No longer were dragons seen to perch on the peaks. The Elves diminished. The Fey hid. Outsiders became the stuff of legend. Like an atrophied muscle, the magic of Thrylia fell into weakness.

The year is now AR 3232. Thrylia, once home to many magically powerful nation states, now houses but a few bedraggled kingdoms and tribes. Much is known, little is accomplished. Lethargy is the purview of the land.

Where once the trials of nations were decided through magical champions, now armies clash, costing the lives of thousands.

The population is massive. Advancements in agriculture have left the land overburdened. Problems are solved through brute strength and influx of numbers. Foreign invasions are few and far between; the only worthwhile resource of the Thrylian continent is its stubborn people.

Rumors, however, of a new source of dark power have made their way south. Peasants look to The Veil and beyond, fearing the winter storm brewing in the north.

To the East, the oft-mocked Grassmen are gathering, forming an army unlike any yet seen on the Primes.

Rumors of a Cabal of Nature-Mages from the Eye of Vecna using their power to raise the level of the oceans abound along the coasts, leaving air-breathers terrified.

Strange apparitions have been reported in the Valto. The Marsh moves, the trees call to each other, and the animals watch those that approach with an intelligent hostility.

The Era of the Art is looked to with longing, the loss of its power a source of regret for those with the insight to fear the coming chaos.

Power is returning. Those who fear not the darkness flock to its cold embrace.

Thrylians of morality cower. The churches are seeing their largest congregations in a millennium.

The fear is causing strife across the land, as small kings and chiefs consolidate their holdings in preparation from the storm.

The Lands Across the Sea prosper under their magical supervision, and continue their trade across the oceans. Southern Thrylia retains its source of power, its land, and feigns indifference to the Northern Menace.

It is a time of change. Those with strength must choose to either devote themselves to intellect and modernity or seek out what was lost in order to defend their traditions.

Those with ambition look to The Veil for clout.

It is a time of decisions. Will you accept the coming storm, or seek The Lost Art?

The Lost Art

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