The twinkle of a star across a black canvas illuminated the night for but a moment. Like a momentary painting that only the gods could grasp the totality of. Clouds that once hung close from the recent storms have since passed, offering the land below a respite from the tumultuous winds that sent rain piercing sideways. The land and its people sent offerings to the spirits above in thanks. The land below lay still, as if in reverence of the night sky. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of wet grass and damp earth from the recent rainfall. The twinkling light above the expanse glimmered, each one like a tiny gem in the crown of the heavens.

In a small village nestled among the hills, the people gathered in the open square, their faces upturned to the sky. They carried small offerings—fruits, flowers, and candles—as they chanted prayers of gratitude to the spirits above. The village shaman led the ceremony, his voice rising and falling in melodic tones that echoed through the night. As the villagers prayed, they couldn't help but be awestruck by the beauty of the night sky. They gazed at the stars, imagining the cosmic dance of celestial bodies, the mysteries of the universe unfolding before their eyes. It was said that the twinkle of a star was a sign of the gods' blessing, and the villagers felt a sense of awe and wonder at the fleeting moment of cosmic beauty. The recent storms had been fierce, with rain lashing down and winds howling through the valley. The villagers had sought shelter, grateful for their sturdy homes and the protection of the hills. Now, with the clouds clearing, they looked up at the night sky with renewed appreciation for the serenity and calmness it brought.

In return, the spirits of mythological divinity provided the stars themselves, but their twinkling above were not simply that of stars, but instead beings hurtling toward the ground. The light stemmed from the fire cascading around their bodies as their golden light casted them like meteors to the surface below. If viewed up close, it was almost certain that myths of all stretches of the imagination would be written and transposed across the miles of their divinity. Of course, this would only be to the perceiver.

Those that fall remembered not their journey across the void between the two worlds. Most knew not of the world above, in fact—the world that they would imagine as great lands were divided by barriers of great oceans far flung on every corner of the globe. Record has it that the land above even housed buildings of metal, stretching to the sky as if clawing toward their own, higher gods. It is almost sad how life echoes itself in its search for the divine.

The people who lived in that world have existed on worlds beyond sight—worlds that humans once called normal, but have since turned over as the event known as [The Collapse] has shifted the landmass into something completely new. The Collapse, of course is something I assume is of great interest to you--"What happened to the [Upworld]? Is anybody still alive up there? What of those [Metallic Skeletons] reaching to the gods?" You might ask these and a myriad other questions, as I assume their world is more similar to [yours] than this one we look over, now. Unfortunately, the story of that world is not for here—elsewhere lies the records of the history of the Upworld.

From this cataclysmic event, though—where universe after universe compounded on one another, layered, came the birth of the [Underworld]. Like a seeping basin where runoff of universal toxins ran, the Underworld is a deposit of the many shattered unconscious and subconscious thoughts of what remained of the [Collective Unconscious]. Desire broiled into demand, and desperation flooded the fields with memories of the ways the world used to be. Memories flooded and mixed with the ways the normal world could have been.

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As the fallen beings crashed into the land, the people below watched in awe. Their impact sites tend to be far from the centralized communal grounds where the people congregated. Those that fell would wake—close enough to civilization to stumble upon new lands with zero memory of their journey. Later on, though, the impact sites would be discovered by explorers and myths would be spun of their origin. That was until relative history would connect the new strangers with the myriad impacts. This was a collective failure on the part of the local historians, and a massive—yet not fatal—blow to the theologians among them.

The people would hope to catch a glimpse of the divine creatures that have descended from the heavens to thank them of the gifts of their life and splendor. Some believe that these beings were messengers from the gods, sent to deliver messages or to bestow gifts upon the worthy. Others believed that the fallen beings were cursed, bringing with them bad luck and misfortune. They avoided the impact sites, fearing that the mere touch of these creatures could bring about their doom. In many ways...they were right. Doom was indeed etched in this land's near future, at least...maybe.

Despite the differing beliefs, one thing was certain: the fallen beings were a rare sight, and their appearance marked a significant event in the lives of those who witnessed them. They were a reminder of the mysterious and magical world that existed beyond their own, a world that they could only catch a glimpse of in the twinkling of the stars above.

As the people continued to watch and wonder, the fallen beings began to stir. And in their sight they saw in the distance massive castles were erected at five tentpole parts of the new landmass formed, and in each magic flowed through their hallowed halls by way of a colored dragon.

[Blackwell] sat furthest to the south, governed for a time by the magic-less Blunt dynasty until the arrival of its dragon—onyx black scales flared up its face and down its cracked body. Said to be the latest bloomer in their latent abilities, they quickly sought for control against the opposing northern kingdom of [Whitewing], whose magnificent white dragon is said to have been with the theologians since the origin of the kingdom.

The three smaller halidoms were minor in scale compared to the Black and the White. [Bluefin], [Redrum], and [Greenhorn] were all bestowed with dragons of their respective color, but their scale and level of magic afforded by their dragon breath was not comparable to the larger dynasties, so they lived or died by allying themselves with the White or Black depending on the current political advantage it gained them.

Across the five kingdoms lie several settlements and cities of varying sizes, each of which contain their own local struggles and social challenges. The history of the Underworld is as fraught with danger as it is with untold riches of heroism.

Here, [your] story begins. But, of course, no story begins without knowing its central [hero]. This, of course, will be a revelation to all of us, I think. It will have dramatic impact on the history, people, and experiences you will have in this world.

There is one of you who has been given a [key]. One must make the choice, but it is recommended you come to council and make the decision [together].

Discover yourself below.

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