The Godstone Chronicles
The Kingdom of Heaven stands as a glorious testament to the power and mercy of the god Amsara. Her land is ruled by a Council of Angels – her most devoted servants – and their Aasimar offspring. There is peace across the Kingdom, and Order, for the Council in the city of Isamar are strict and benevolent shepherds of her will. The one true religion permeates the land and no one questions it, for the weather is always fair and the crops lush. The Godstone stands proud in the Square of Epochs ringed by praying angels – the Seekers – who commune with their Lord.
In the Kingdom of Heaven there is little overt strife and little want, except maybe for a little more freedom. Freedom to build where you want, work as you like, or perhaps even to worship as you desire. But no one in their right mind would grumble about such things. Everyone can still remember their grand-parents telling stories of the bad old days, when the Sundering was still a word people spoke or a history people seemed to understand, so to complain about growing up a farmer on a thriving plot of land instead of a fisherman on a bountiful sea, seems to spit at the glory of Amsara.
The Kingdom is home to many races, though chiefly Humans, Elves, Half-Elves, and Aasimar. Races such as Dwarves, Halflings, and Gnomes are seen in the Capitol from time to time though more often they remain in small, secluded communities attempting to stay away from the religion of man. Occasionally a sufficiently drunk Dwarf can be found speaking of a once great Dwarven Kingdom below the Eerie Mountains, though none can claim to have seen it. And if you tickle a Gnome just right they might giggle something about the Feywild and the Court, but those are just Faerie Tales. Occasionally stories and rumors of more monstrous citizens waft by but few put much stock into them.
As the destinies of the Party begin to intersect, this world of joy and light is thriving, perhaps too much so. The people are multiplied, the towns and villages strain against their limits, and towns far and wide have delegates in the Capitol petitioning. Young people have rediscovered genuine curiosity, born from idle hands and minds, as some find themselves without a job to inherit. Never have more people traveled to the city with no clear purpose. Not since the Sundering have the young and the brave poked and prodded the unknown as much as now. Elders have begun to mutter derisively about the forbidden magics of old, whether as a result of the changes in the weather the last few years or the sight of people poking around the old Towers, who can be sure? One thing all know is that magic is dangerous and better left forgotten.
In the last few years there have been cautionary tales told by parents to quell the wanderlust of their children. The Trent Massacre is told far and wide and is the chief instrument of fear when citizens speak of the Towers. The monster of the Noble Sea is said to have been born of it and yet the port town of Karabast famously has the skeleton of the supposed thing and several other monsters.
Still, all told, all is well in The Kingdom of Heaven and the odd portent aside, surely the Moon will rise just as it has every 12 years before.