Writer’s Note: This is a very… VERY rough concept draft.
In the nine kingdoms of Tamora, There is but one that truly searches to understand the incredible world before us. The Kingdom of Exalidor is, in the common eye, land of the Humans. A place for the unremarkable to stew while the elves of Leporum cast their spells and the Crown Dwarves dig their holes in the frozen mountains of Fandoriel.
However, Exalidor is much more than just humans. Where magic and wonder run wild beyond its borders, Research and science bring reason to this kingdom. Exalidor is the land of progress. Since the dawn of the wild lands the people of Exalidor pushed past the realm of understanding and reached new heights without the gifts of gods nor the blood of dragons. Sharp minds and inventors find home and community in this kingdom. Those that would pursue their “impossible ideas”
Exalidor’s progress took them to the skies. They were the first to peirce through the cloud barrier. They were the first to break through the deep stone of the core. They were the first to look beyond the boundaries of this waking realm and travel beyond the veil. They defeated sky, sea and land, conquered disease and won wars with no effort. Before long, the people of Exalidor were more than human. They had evolved into a golden age.
But… All kingdoms, sooner or later, must come to their fall. On a regular summer day, just as the sun began to dip down behind the mountain. With no warning, Hundreds of thousands Exalidorians fell to the ground dead. No sign of disease, no clear forms of magic. Just death. And as quick as they fell, they got back up. A rapid mutation riddled the bodies of the dead, their skin turning an inky black, eyes blood shot, tears running down their cheeks. Their bodies contorted, their bones cracked under the weight of their transformation. Barely recognizable, these Exalidorians had mutated into horrid monsters, a pitiful attempt to grasp the beautiful horrors of the beyond; they all in unison let out an inhuman pained bellow. You could hear the sound of their ravenous hunger from miles away. This, and the slaughter that soon followed, came to be called the Wailing.
Within the hour, most of Exalidor fell to these monstrosities. They were incredibly resilient to magic and no matter how much you struck them down with any blade, they always got back up. Those that were killed, joined in the howling. The mutation seemed to be spread through bodily fluids. And with all the teeth and blood and torn flesh. This virus was easily passed from victim to victim.
By the end of the day. Exalidor had fallen. Cities burned in the chaos. Villages lay quiet. Roads stained red. The Lords of Tamora, The Order of the Nine Quarantined the entire Kingdom. Putting up powerful barriers both physical and magical. With no plan on how to help. Some of the strongholds in Exalidor managed to stay standing. Small beacons of hope kept shining in these places. The ability to fight back still in the hearts and minds of some.
But if the Order of the Nine did nothing. Simply keep the door on the cage they made locked. Exalidor would be smeared away in the history books to come.
submitted by /u/Cthilhi
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