Here lies the parable of Galmora.

Golmara was founded in the times when Lacon was founded, predating the Oddum’s interference, Lacon and Golmara were quite civil to one another even though they were drastically different.

As said, Lacon was ripe, lush and had many plentiful resources from which Laconians could thrive: most of all access to flowing sources of water. Galmora provided what she could though:

Starleth Wheat: A luminescent grain that glows faintly at night, often used in making bread that is said to restore a small amount of health to those who consume it. Shadowroot: A dark, fibrous spice that adds a smoky flavor to dishes, rumored to grant heightened senses for a short period. Golden Saffryd: A bright golden spice, costly and rare, used in ceremonial dishes to ensure prosperity and fortune. Sunburst Vines: Climbing vines with flowers that burst open at sunrise, their nectar is sweet and used in many desserts.

Lacon was a good neighboring territory and supported Golmara as best they could. In exchange Golmara was mostly used for the training of the military, storage of long term goods and archives and religious purposes. It was a sought after pilgrimage site for Laconians and the ebb and flow if this relationship prospered.

That shifted after the asteroid’s impact into the heart of Golmara. Golmara is struck by the asteroid and the impact is uncanny; incredibly not a soul is injured or impacted by the event in any negative way what so ever. The noise in the night was sheer, I high-pitch trill of frequency like the worst swarm of locusts screeching out for their horde mother all at once! The Subsonic boom of impact, like the prize fighting brawler landing a blow that is not a strike from training, no, a strike of defensive fear that one only throws against incredible odds or the primal fear of losing one's life!

In the darkest hour of a night that was whispered into legend, Golmara endured a celestial ordeal of awe-inspiring magnitude. It began as a high-pitched trill, a cacophony that pierced the air like the desperate shriek of a locust swarm calling to its queen. This was no mere atmospheric disturbance but a sonic herald of cosmic retribution, demanding attention from all who dwelt in the shadow of Golmara’s ancient spires.

The asteroid, a sky seed flung from the celestial gardens, descended with the fury of the heavens yet chose a path that was oddly merciful. As it breached the atmosphere, the heavens themselves seemed to cringe at its passage, culminating in a subsonic boom that resonated like the fearsome clap of a celestial colossus defending its domain from unseen cosmic predators.

Despite the ferocity of its arrival, the asteroid imparted no malice upon the living. It struck with the precision of a master duelist wielding an estoc, its touch lethal yet bizarrely judicious. The ground itself was pierced, not rent asunder, creating a well-defined orifice rather than a ruinous scar upon Gaia’s visage. This puncture, though deep and unsettling, was not a death wound but rather a channel of profound transformation.

Gaia, the eternal mother, responded with an outpouring of her essence. Her waters, the lifeblood of her being, cascaded into the crevice, mingling with the cosmic debris. This confluence of earthly vitality and stardust birthed an uncanny phenomenon—the sky seed, now nestled in Gaia’s bosom, began a mysterious gestation.

In the aftermath, the people of Golmara and Lacon stood at the brink of this new geological feature, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and wonder. The impact site became a pilgrimage destination, drawing the devout and the curious alike. They came to gaze upon the place where the heavens had literally touched the earth, and many reported strange visions and epiphanies as they peered into the aqueous abyss.

Rumors swirled among the pilgrims and the clergy; some whispered that the asteroid was a divine seed, planted by the cosmos itself to imbue Golmara with celestial power. Others feared it was a harbinger of changes so profound that neither Golmara nor Lacon would remain unaltered. The waters that filled the hole were said to heal the sick and reveal glimpses of other worlds to those who dared to drink from its depths.

Thus, the event was not merely a brush with destruction but a baptism of the entire region into a new era—an era where the boundaries between the earthly and the divine were blurred, inviting all to reconsider their place within the grand tapestry of the cosmos. As Golmara accepted this new role, its people began to change, influenced by the powers that now pulsed beneath their feet, whispering of new destinies and the awakening of hidden truths.

Beyond all of this, the sound, the effect....was the depth. The hole was just that, a mere hole. Not a gash in Gia's flesh nor a a chasm slashed form some worldly slash. It was a piercing from the finest estoc or rapier and Gia's wound was indeed critical, but not fatal.

She bled her waters into it and buried the sky seed within her womb and came to be known as "The Wellspring”.

As the news of the miraculous well spread across the lands, droves of pilgrims, driven by desperation and hope, flocked to Golmara. The desert, a vast expanse of arid solitude, began to exhibit odd phenomena—flora seemingly dead or dormant for decades sprouted overnight near the site, displaying hues unnatural to the region: luminescent blues, sickly greens, and pulsating purples that mirrored the starlit tapestry of the night sky.

The fauna, too, began to evolve or mutate. Creatures of the night that had once feared the day ventured forth in the new twilight born of the well’s influence. Their forms twisted, elongated shadows danced along the newly verdant sand dunes, and their eyes glowed with an eerie, internal light, as if they too had drunk deeply from the cosmic essence seeping from the ground.

The pilgrims, their bodies and minds parched more by need than the desert itself, gathered around the well in great numbers. They drank the shimmering water, which was said to quench any thirst and heal any ailment. But the water, imbued with the celestial properties of the asteroid, was far from benign.

Initially, the effects seemed miraculous: the sick were healed, the old felt vigor anew, and the young saw visions of other worlds, their dreams filled with whispers from beyond. But as time passed, these blessings curdled into curses. Those who had partaken of the water too greedily began to change in horrific ways. Their bodies distorted, becoming less human and more reflective of the celestial aberrations that might dwell in the darkest corners of the universe.

Plants twisted into grotesque parodies of their former selves, thriving in the unnatural glow that began to emanate from the well. The water itself grew darker, as if saturated with the ink of the night sky, and it hummed softly, a lullaby that seemed both a warning and a call.

The fauna, once merely nocturnal, became otherworldly. Predators developed a taste for this mutated flora and, subsequently, for each other, creating a brutal new ecosystem centered around the well. The desert around Golmara became a place of beauty and terror, a landscape redefined by cosmic forces.

As the transformations became more pronounced and terrifying, the pilgrims' initial joy turned to horror. Some attempted to flee, finding themselves inexplicably drawn back to the well by dreams and a haunting voice that promised enlightenment and transcendence through unity with the cosmos. Others, too changed to survive elsewhere, formed a new cult, worshiping the well as a divine entity, their humanity slipping away as they melded their destinies with the alien will of the sky seed.

In the heart of this chaos, a few clear-minded scholars and mystics from Lacon attempted to study the well, hoping to understand and perhaps mitigate its effects. They speculated that the asteroid was not merely a celestial object but a vessel, carrying a will or a consciousness from the deep cosmos, intent on reshaping the world in its own image.

As Golmara became a beacon of cosmic horror, the scholars penned frantic messages to their homelands, warning of the dangers of the well. Yet, for every warning sent, a new legend arose, tempting more to venture into the desert, drawn by the promise of miracles and the thrill of the unknown.

The well, once a symbol of hope, had become a portal to a nightmarish future where the boundaries between earth and the stars dissolved, and where humanity might ultimately find itself lost, a mere echo in the vast, indifferent universe.

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The people, seeing this as a holy right, as sacred, began to covet and divide themselves from their neighbors. Crops (known and new) sprouted up in gargantuan proportions, transforming the landscape and were consumed feverishly;

Starleth Wheat: This grain, known for its gentle luminescence, intensifies in brightness to a glaring glow that can be unsettling. The bread made from this wheat still restores health, but it now leaves a lingering numbness in the limbs, with consumers reporting feeling less in control of their actions, as though they are being subtly manipulated by an unseen force.

Shadowroot: Already dark and smoky, the Shadowroot now possesses an almost intoxicating potency. Its flavor deepens, and the temporary heightened senses it grants are replaced with prolonged hyper-awareness that borders on paranoia. Consumers often feel as though they are being watched, and some report seeing shadowy figures at the edge of their vision that disappear when confronted.

Golden Saffryd: The golden hue of this spice turns a deeper, almost blood-red. While it continues to be used in ceremonial dishes, the prosperity it was once believed to bring now comes with a heavy price: those who consume it experience brief, intense visions of potential futures, many of which are fraught with misfortune and tragedy, sowing seeds of discord and suspicion among communities.

Sunburst Vines: The flowers of these vines still open at sunrise, but they now exude a nectar that, while sweet, has a hallucinogenic quality. Desserts made with this nectar cause consumers to experience vivid daydreams that are often surreal and disorienting, blurring the line between reality and fantasy. Over time, this can lead to disassociation and a loss of grip on reality.

Ether Spice: Now exuding a stronger phosphorescent glow, Ether Spice’s metallic undertone is replaced by an almost electric buzz. Its trance-inducing properties are heightened, leading users into longer, more profound states of disconnectedness from the world, often leaving them vulnerable to influence from the lingering wills within the wellspring.

Azura Blossom: With its shifting iridescent colors becoming more intense, the Azura Blossom's fragrance becomes overpowering, leading to an addiction-like dependency. The disorientation previously caused now morphs into a full sensory overload where users struggle to perceive their environment correctly, leading to accidents and misjudgments.

Verdant Vine: These vines become aggressively invasive, entwining not only around structures but also around living creatures. Their sentient-like movements become more pronounced, and they begin to actively seek out and strangle other plant life, asserting dominance over surrounding flora.

Crimson Grain: The enhanced euphoric effect of consuming Crimson Grain now comes with a severe depressive comedown, creating a cycle of addiction as consumers seek to regain the euphoric high to escape the overwhelming despair that follows.

Moonleaf: This herb's enhanced psychic abilities now come at the cost of permanent alterations to the consumer’s perception. Regular users find the barrier between their mind and the ethereal slowly disintegrating, leading to difficulty in distinguishing one's own thoughts from external psychic intrusions.

So the masons were elated when they received the stolen plans to build walls for the first time in their histories, as well as a monument to encase the well itself. The structure that the Galmoran people erected around the wellspring was a paradox, a sanctum born of reverence and dread, a monument to the enigmatic forces that had woven themselves into the very fabric of their existence. They called it the Sanctum of Origins, a name that barely scratched the surface of its true nature. This edifice, this labyrinthine enigma, stood as a testament to the paradoxical blessing and curse that had befallen them.

The Sanctum, an unearthly structure, defied architectural norms, spiraling and contorting in ways that seemed to mock the very laws of physics. Its walls were composed of a luminescent stone that pulsed with an eerie, otherworldly light, casting strange shadows that danced like spectral wraiths. These stones, imbued with the cosmic radiation emanating from the wellspring, glowed with an unsettling phosphorescence, a testament to the incomprehensible energies at play.

The radiation that seeped from the wellspring permeated every facet of the Sanctum, twisting and warping the very essence of reality. This cosmic influence, a relic of an ancient, forgotten star, imbued the structure with a bizarre form of reverse entropy. Here, time and decay held no sway. Instead, the inexorable march of entropy was reversed, a grotesque and wondrous mockery of natural law.

Within the Sanctum of Origins, the air itself shimmered with a palpable energy, a constant reminder of the cosmic forces at work. The flora that took root in the sacred grounds reverted to their primordial seeds, trapped in a perpetual cycle of potential and stasis. Starleth Wheat, once a glowing beacon of sustenance, now lay dormant as luminescent seeds scattered across the ground. Shadowroot, with its dark, fibrous texture, shrank back into a tangled mass of roots, its smoky essence lost to the ages.

The Golden Saffryd, revered for its prosperity-bringing properties, withered into its nascent form, a mere golden fleck of dust carried on the wind. Sunburst Vines, with their radiant flowers, ceased their climb, retreating into their embryonic state, their sweet nectar now a memory locked within the buds.

The fauna, too, were not spared from this cosmic inversion. Birds, caught in the radius of the wellspring’s influence, regressed into fragile eggs, their songs silenced, their wings stilled. Insects, those harbingers of life and decay, devolved into larvae, crawling blindly in the shadows cast by the Sanctum’s walls. Even the human pilgrims, driven by their primal thirst and reverence for the wellspring’s waters, found themselves caught in this cycle of regression.

Those who drank from the wellspring, desperate for its life-giving essence, were met with a cruel twist of fate. Their bodies, infused with the cosmic radiation, began to unravel, their cells reversing in time. Eyes once filled with wonder and enlightenment clouded over, reverting to the innocence of infancy. Skin that had weathered the trials of life smoothed into the delicate softness of youth. Minds that had once grappled with profound truths regressed into the simplicity of early consciousness, unburdened by the weight of knowledge and experience.

As the Sanctum of Origins stood sentinel over the wellspring, it became a monument to the Oduum’s inscrutable will, a paradox of creation and uncreation. The cosmic forces at play twisted the very nature of existence, mocking the linear progression of time and the certainty of life’s journey. The Galmoran people, in their quest for reverence and enlightenment, had built a shrine to their undoing, a cradle of cosmic irony that whispered of forgotten gods and the terrifying power of the stars.

In this place, where the ancient and the arcane converged, the Sanctum of Origins became a living testament to the Oduum’s celestial judgment, a perpetual reminder that the gifts of the gods are not always blessings, and the pursuit of forbidden knowledge can lead to a fate far worse than ignorance.

*****

In the nascent days when Lacon was verdant and bountiful, a time predating the interference of the Oduum, there existed a harmonious relationship between Lacon and its neighboring city, Golmara. While Lacon thrived with its flowing waters, fertile lands, and abundant resources, Golmara served as a bastion of military training, a repository of long-term goods, and a revered site of religious pilgrimage. This symbiotic relationship flourished, each city benefiting from the strengths of the other.

Yet, this idyllic balance was shattered by a cataclysmic event—the impact of an otherworldly asteroid upon Golmara. The night was rent asunder by a high-pitched trill, a cacophony akin to a swarm of locusts screeching in unison for their queen. The subsonic boom of impact followed, a defensive strike against the primal fear of obliteration.

Despite the cataclysmic noise, no soul was harmed. The asteroid's descent left a mere hole, not a chasm, in the flesh of Gaia. It was a piercing wound, a critical but not fatal blow. Gaia's waters bled into this wound, burying the celestial seed within her womb.

Golmara's transformation began with this uncanny event. The wellspring that formed around the impact site became a source of both wonder and dread. The people of Golmara, desperate for water, flocked to the well, their primal need overcoming caution. They drank deeply, unaware of the cosmic radiation seeping into their very beings.

The once-fertile land around the well began to change. The Starleth Wheat, once a luminescent grain that restored health, became carnivorous, its glowing stalks luring prey with a malevolent light. Shadowroot, once a spice that granted heightened senses, twisted into grotesque forms, inducing hallucinations and madness. The Golden Saffryd, a symbol of prosperity, now caused fits of euphoria, leading to violent outbursts. The Sunburst Vines, once sweet and life-giving, ensnared anything that came near, draining life to feed their insatiable hunger.

In the heart of this transformation stood Megan, the chief druid priestess of Golmara. She discovered the true source of the wellspring's power—a stillborn seedling of Azathoth, lying in a state of torpor, on the brink of death. This cosmic radiation was the afterlife essence of the seedling, benefiting the village but at a terrible cost.

Megan's chants and rituals maintained the illusion of life in the stillborn seedling, preventing it from realizing its own death and unleashing destruction. Her ceaseless singing wove beautiful dreams that empowered the reality of the village, keeping them blissfully unaware of the seedling's true nature.

The villagers, unaware of Megan's struggle, continued to drink from the well, their bodies and minds twisted by the radiation. They began to build a keep around the well, a fortress they called "The Cradle of the Oduum," though they did not understand its true significance. This fortification, enchanted by the cosmic radiation, began to revert everything within its bounds to its original state—birds into eggs, crops into seeds, and people into primal forms.

Lacon, cut off from Golmara, received no word from their pilgrims. Rumors spread of Golmara's isolation, and the people began to twist and become reclusive. Refugees and former highwaymen brought tales of Golmara's transformation—stories of crops that devoured those who tended them, animals that reverted to embryonic states, and people who regressed to primal forms, losing their humanity to the cosmic radiation.

One parable spoke of a creature beyond the sense of sight, sensed only at the edge of perception. This being, inactive and slumbering, was believed to benefit the village as long as it slept. It was an avatar of Azathoth, a seedling slumbering in a garden. Megan, unaware of the creature's true nature, maintained the garden, singing ceaselessly to keep it in beautiful dreams.

However, the creature was not merely slumbering—it was in a state of cosmic torpor, a near-death state. Megan, unaware of this, continued to care for it, believing her chants and rituals maintained its peaceful sleep. In truth, the seedling was a stillborn offspring of Azathoth, dead but radiating cosmic energy that altered reality.

This offspring had crawled out of the seed in the well, a vessel for space travel. It radiated an energy that benefited the environment and the people, but at a terrible cost. The cosmic radiation from the wellspring reversed entropy, reverting everything built around it to its original state.

As Megan's chants grew more desperate, the seedling's dreams darkened. Visions of otherworldly landscapes seeped into the village, reality flickered, and whispers of the seedling’s power spread among the villagers, heightening their fear.

One fateful night, a group of desperate villagers ventured into the central grove, disturbing the seedling and causing a catastrophic shift. The garden’s flora lashed out, and the very ground trembled as the seedling’s torpor wavered. Megan, sensing the impending doom, invoked her deepest druidic powers, offering part of her life force to soothe the seedling.

The villagers, now aware of their precarious existence, adopted new rituals to honor the garden and the seedling, hoping to maintain the balance. Megan, now a shadow of her former self, passed on her duties to a chosen apprentice, ensuring the village’s continued survival.

The garden, forever altered, stood as a testament to the delicate balance between life and cosmic oblivion. The villagers lived in constant vigilance, aware that the seedling’s dreams could shape their reality for better or worse.

In the shadows of Golmara, the tale of the slumbering seedling became a legend, a reminder of the thin veil between their peaceful existence and the chaos of awakening. The cosmic radiation continued to twist the flora and fauna, the people, and the very fabric of reality, a constant reminder of the power and danger of the slumbering god's stillborn offspring.