DKMortals/Introduction

Introduction

Before the world was bent but after the Great Contagion there was a civilization built in the image of the First Age. It sought to emulate the splendors of the bygone Golden Age, but it was in all ways less. It was a time of sorcery and heroism, of fabulous wonders and treacherous betrayals. Ruled by a decadent empire, it slipped inch by inch into barbarism and darkness, until one last cataclysm blotted it out forever. Yet, in its sunset, it was a splendid thing, and glorious and terrible were the deeds of the Exalted.

Yet as the pendulum of Creation rocked to and fro and the edges of reality wore away to slippery smooth madness, as the dead rose under the command of dark champions and darker overlords, as Exalted heroes bred, made, and reborn fought for their visions of the future, the population of Creation struggled onward as it had for generations.

Coddled and abused by the First Age and tempered by the Second, nearly annihilated by the Great Contagion but still resurgent and fruitful, the mortals survived. They struggled, lived, died and were reborn anew in the infinite wheel. The mortar that bound the bricks of Creation. The backs that bore its burden, the loins that swelled its ranks. The minds that anchored it against the Wyld. The heroes who, without the touch of the Dragons or the favors of the gods, would nevertheless stand, and fight, and die, for what they believed in.

This is their story.

Far to the North of Creation, beyond the interest of the Blessed Isle if not its reach, a nation of inventive mortals struggle to eke an existence of their harsh surroundings. No man would call the Haslanti League a paradise, but only a fool would deem it insignificant. Originally little more than a series of loose tribal alliances, the League has risen in power to make its voice heard, drawing hard-won wealth from the surrounding lands. Its iceships and airships ply frozen ice and air, and its cities grow explosively.

One does not come easily to Icehome, the capital of the Haslanti League. Even by sea, the journey is difficult. Safer in winter, when the sea turns to solid ice and the great barges and iceship cruisers ply their trade, treacherous in summer when the ice loosens into chill bergs. Overland one must march hundreds of miles across a forbidding, tangled tundra, suitable enough for herd grazing, less so for a man. Then there are the tribesmen, even deadlier than the landscape itself.

Yet the city is a welcome sight amidst the harsh landscape, an oasis of light and color. It huddles, sheltered, against a massive stone outcropping known as the Citadel Rock. Some five miles to either side of the city, and rising hundreds of feet in the air, are the even larger cliffs that mark the boundaries of the Greenfields. Massive terraforming projects created in the First Age, the Greenfields nourish and enrich broad portions of the countryside, making even the harsh north suitable for habitation. The Icehome Greenfield is the largest, growing rapidly as it winds away south from the city, some thirty five miles wide and a hundred miles long. Within the Greenfield, orchards, farms and forests help to feed the ravenous citizens. Icehome demands much, for Icehome is growing.

Although the Scavenger Lords of Nexus and the Dragonblooded of the Realm sneer at the Icehome Greenfield's population of 250,000 (the city proper contains around 100,000), it is still the most impressive city-state in the league and for many miles. Foreigners pour into it to trade and do business, and even the Realm has been known to show an active interest.

Fields lie half-harvested all throughout the Greenfield. Backs heave and scythes whistle, and the air begins to contain the first bite of chill winter. Soon the harvest shall be done, and soon the snow shall fall. The harbor will turn to ice as the ships settle in for the winter - it's said that between the months of Ascending Air and Resplendent water, a man can walk from deck to deck across the bay. The families will return from their outlying farms to their winter homes, and the city's population will swell. The summer streets that crisscross the rooftops will be abandoned for the arcades and tunnels of the winter streets. Shutters will be tightly drawn and latched to hold back the weight of the snow. Soon.

Icehome waits.

Yet tonight, on the 10th of Resplendent Fire, in the taverns and teahouses of the city, winter could hardly seem more distant...