Arcthra
"NO!" He screamed. "You don't know what you are doing!"
They continued throwing books into the pyre anyway. They were not ignoring him.
One man grabbed ahold of him, yelling... "He defends them! Professes a need for works which we cannot understand - do not need! Professes control over us!"
"Throw him into the fire!" Another yelled.
"Yes, throw him in!" The chant continued.
The young man tried to run, but was quickly apprehended.
"NO!" - but the chanting had already drowned out his voice. His last vision was that of searing fire...
After his senses had left him, but before his mind did, his last thought was
'Odd... From here, it seems the whole world lay in flames...'
The world of Gerath holds itself lush and vibrant. Nary a desert or blasted patch of ice mars its surface, green forests and blue waters stretching to all edges of the world. The great wheel of the sky, a brilliant blue haze, provides enough light to read even on a moonless night, and is visable even during the day. Some call it Arcthra, but none dare speak the name with too much reverence. For what beauty would be left should the heavens themselves be humbled, that those under it may no longer look up in hope?
Once, Gerath had gods, but no longer. Its fertility is hollow, its lush beauty a thin shell. Cities soar the skies, but none look to them in wonder.
Gorinsun, of the dwarves, was forced to make the very manacles that now bind him, forging for all eternity whatever wish the avarice of Aphaestus demands.
Yhaidria, of the little people who call themselves cree, now serves the endless appetites of Aphaestus' gluttony.
Hadliasha, of the elves, is now called the kneeling goddess, serving the lust of Aphaestus.
Cheira, of the humans, stood against Aphaestus in defiance, perishing rather than allowing her people to fall into eternal slavery.
He broke humanity anyway.
Turil, was not so lucky. Perhaps Cheira's sacrifice meant more, or perhaps Aphaestus found more worth in the young race. Some still whisper of strange, cree-like folk called gnomes, but they walk no more.
Many other gods fell. Either into service or into death. Others joined with Aphaestus willingly, and their hordes sweep the world as their reward.
They leave ashes in their wake, but it is the bidding of Aphaestus that god and mortal rebuild, so his chosen can destroy again.
Occasionally, one hero rises, or perhaps several, but always they are put down.
Always.
In a nutshell, the setting of False Dawn is an amalgam of the best work I've done on my own D&D projects to date, rolled up into a single 'setting'. If there is interest, I intend to make an extended single-player campaign, covering the history of the world, and perhaps, later, constructing a persistant world based on it. It would be built using the NWN2 toolset, hoping that it is indeed more flexible than the original.
The single-player campaign will cover three eras in time, millenia apart, and quite possibly actually be three separate campaigns.
While I'm happy to accept any interest, I would appreciate voice talent more than anything. I think voices add a great deal of feel to a world. Of course, everyone else is welcome, especially critics. If you like, join the forums, bug me with an e-mail or whatever.
