Jörð

Once a world broken, turning in ever shifting pieces that only occasionally touched each other, floating in a black void. A war engine, made by gods long forgotten, purely to harvest the best and brightest and strongest. Most who survived past each reaping didn't have the wherewithal to understand, or the lifespan to draw a pattern from the enormous loss every thousand years or more. Every millennium there was a new post apocalypse. Great civilizations rose and fell, many races, many great works of art and advancements, and so many stories, all to be wiped clean, forgotten and started again.   Then a great sacrifice was made.   The world was fused where it stood, and thrown out of the endless void into a material plane. A real world now. A world with the hope of being able to grow without being put back to it's start, over and over again. All of a sudden there was stability for travel, stars to navigate by, cultures could exist long enough to learn about the world around them.   All of a sudden, Empires could be built, power could be collected, and tyrants could stand on the thousands of ruins their world had been built on.   Heroes saved the world once, and they will be needed again.