In my long life I have seen many terrible things; war, famine, the putrid greed and hatred that grows in a man’s heart. None ever came close to the pure chaos and desolation the Plague brought to this world. For many years I watched over this world, helping where I could. I was called by many as The Healer and by others as The Wise. Anyone in sickness or in health used to come to me, seeking aid, be it medicine or advice. From the humblest of farmers to the richest of kings, people travelled from all across the globe. That was until the Plague struck. I was powerless to do anything, hundreds died at my feet and I could do nothing but stand and watch as darkness swallowed the world whole. When they found that I could not help them, they turned to prayer, to their gods but nothing happened, they all still died, even the ones who prayed to numerous gods of different religions. The world was torn apart, those infected by the plague died a slow agonising death, and their cries of pain would fill the otherwise still nights. Those not infected would go insane with panic, riots would rip through entire cities, and everyone was at war with each other. Billions died.
Three days ago marks the one hundredth year anniversary of the day the Plague simply stopped. Those who were infected and were at the gate of death were miraculously cured as if the Plague had just been turned off. The survivors rejoiced at the thought that their prayers were finally answered, that their Gods had saved them from the Plague. They were convinced that the Gods had whittled out the weak and sinful and spared them so that they could build the world anew. Though I was glad that the dark cloud that had hung above humanity for almost a year had finally evaporated, something told me that it was no higher being, no great deity that had spared us from this terror. Something dark was at work; a great evil had all of humanity in its grasp. Three days ago also marks the day of our great leader’s murder.
One hundred years ago, as humanity struggled to rebuild itself, two houses rose from the ashes, asserting themselves upon the throne. From the North came the House of Weylyn , their sigils that of a pale wolf upon a dark sky. Their house had strong ties with their religion and as such many of their members were priests. From the East came the House of Tiamat , flying their sigils of a great sea serpent. Together the two houses rebuilt the world, hauling humanity back to its feet. Despite the circumstances, everyone prospered and within a span of a few decades a great city was built at the heart of the world, sharing it’s foundations with that of a city once known as Venice. Sadly, this did not last. Tensions rose as each house struggled to gain power, they had grown tired of sharing the rule over the New World, their greed had grown too big. Despite the numerous arguments in parliament, despite the numerous threats, nothing happened, for one, long, drawn out year, nothing happened. Suddenly the head of the House of Tiamat, Arken, fell gravely ill. There was nothing the physicians could do but watch as he died screaming, he died of the same Plague that decimated humanity over ninety years before. The physicians noticed this and soon rumours started to spread, that the head of the house had been purposely infected with the Plague, that the House of Weylyn was to be blamed. Accusations soon started to fly, but the House of Weylyn denied them all, insisting that they had nothing to do with the death of the head of the House of Tiamat. Despite this, the House of Tiamat was unconvinced and soon after, civil war ripped through Venice. Families were torn apart, brother turned on brother, battles raged on the streets, within the first day, hundreds died. The war raged on for years until finally, the two houses merged in holy matrimony. Mealin Tiamat, the daughter of the now deceased head of the house, Arken, his only heir, was to be wed to the head of the House of Weylyn. It lasted four years. Mealin was now twenty and on the night of her birthday, she announced her pregnancy. On the night of her birthday, she shot her husband right between the eyes in front of all their subjects. That was three days ago.
Mealin the Vindictive, is now hunted by the Priests of the House of Weylyn and their loyalists, and protected solely by her Guardian. Whether or not it was the House of Weylyn that killed Arken Tiamat, I am not sure, but one thing I do know s that there is a darker power behind all this, pulling the strings from the shadows.