Valdorian Age - Rising Power on the Frontier
The World's Death Rattle
The Abyzinians care little about the death of Valdor, which took place in 82 VA (7186 AR). While the Abyzinian might find the stories of Valdor’s feats and prowess entertaining, he still has a hard time believing Valdor lead an army of slaves against the glorious and mighty Drindish and won. The Abyzinians respect the sophistication and learning of few cultures and none in the modern age, but of Drindria they have a respect that borders on awe.
Nor do the Abyzinians care about the Old Gods of Valdoria whom most claim turn their backs on the world in these years. The Abyzinians, if they can be said to have any gods at all, honor the four Infernal Princes- not out of any love and devotion, but in hopes of avoiding the evils those demons cause.
But like the rest of the world, the Abyzinians mark the years after Valdor’s death as a time of upheaval and change for the worst. Great calamities and catastrophes shook the kingdom. A plague of demonic locusts came buzzing out of the Ylsythen Jungles in the east. In clouds towering hundreds of feet high, the unnatural locusts moved across the land and consumed not just the plants and trees, but also the flesh from animals and men, leaving in their wake only bones stripped bare of meat. The People of the Night came storming out of their mountains to raid the northern border of Abyzinia. Earthquakes opened great rents in the endless Savannah to the west of Abyzinia. And waves over a mile high sped across the Blue Waters and crashed on the coast, pulling down the buildings and docks of the kingdom’s port cities.
Abyzinians refer to this time as the world’s death rattle. Just as a man, sliced open so his blood runs out onto the ground, goes into convulsions and thrashes his limbs before he dies, so too the world struggles against its death and was loath to give up its soul, thus causing the calamities that struck all the realms of the world. But just like a man dying in the dirt, the world could not escape its fate despite its struggles and as its soul – which the Abyzinians think of as magic and wonder – departed Il-Riveras, it gave the world one last shake and and then laid still, finally dead.
For the next nine centuries the Abyzinians carried on much as they had throughout all time, but even they could not ignore the changes to the world entirely. Their society had depended on the power of sorcery to protect it from outsiders and, more importantly, to keep the slaves their culture depended on in chains. As the sorcery slowly drained out of the world, they found themselves weakening. It was as if a thief and come in the night and stolen all the swords from all the warriors in the army, and the Abyzinians worried about their safety in the absence of great magics.
But the Abyzinians have adjusted to the new world. Their nobles turned away from sorcery to learn the arts of sword and spear, and created a new caste of slaves to serve as warriors in their army. These warrior-slaves have many privileges to keep them content with their status; they often work as overseers, guarding other slaves. Despite these changes, more and more slaves escape every year and find their freedome in the depths of the Ylsythen Jungles. Some of these desperate men journey to Naraat and the Maggot Isles to take up pirating, but others lurk on the edges of the kingdom, helping their fellow slaves to escape and raiding Abyzinian settlements as they may.
In the northern mountains, the People of the Night grow more bold and raid farther south each year. Though magic wanes elsewhere, their necromancy seems much unchanged and just as much a threat as ever.
Across the Blue waters, the Empire of Valdoria has arisen, climbing a stair made from the bodies of the legendary Drindrish to attain lofty heights. All Abyzinians know of Valdoria’s strange, impossible-to-comprehend customs and its seemingly insane faith in gods who have obviously departed the world. They also know the Valdorians have no love for Abysinia, for in that ancient kingdom the conquerors of the Drindrish see shades of the inhuman tyrants from their past. Abyzinians have watched Valdoria spread easily across the continent of Sarth, and they wonder nervously if that upstart empire will someday turn its eyes across the Blue Waters.
Only the people of the savanna to the west seems to hold no threat to for Abyzinia. The many tribes of men dwelling their seem content to hunt the gazelle as they have for millennia and make never-ending war on other tribes there. Their warriors still take prisoners and still sell these prisoners to Abysinian slavers.
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