Ternova

You are not the first to have been here. There are histories here, their truths lost to time and retelling, but the evidence of their passing remains. On the mountainsides, there are tales of great battle; the rocky soil pockmarked with massive craters and chunks of cold, formed stone. Skeletons of massive structures reach toward the sky; the truth of their nacency lost, but at their bases, proof of great force and heat. Tales of fire. Stories of war. A history of annihilation.   This island sits alone, no others visible from its highest peak. Only water and the ever present Fret, an undulating misty barrier through which none have crossed and returned. High above, floating on massive platforms which slowly move over the horizon live the Uhdoyn, a people alien and yet familiar. Seperate and yet part of the fabric of this place.   The Uhdoyn trade food and healing with mastery of strange magicks. They have been here as long as the history known by the Keeper goes, but still, they are apart, said to have fallen from the heavens, two white-hot streaks burning through the sky, one shakily steadying near the island, the other far over the horizon with no sign of slowing. The Uhdoyn are heroic warriors that fell grievously wounded after destroying their foe, the terrible Asera. As they came down, behind them, the corpse of the Asera burnt before falling into the Fret, ensuring its demise.   The people of this island have long farmed the land, hunted the beasts that haunt the unmapped Wildwood encroaching on their borders, and perhaps most valuable of all, scavenged and dug up bits of the shining metal from the dirt that the Uhdoyn use to work their magics. Recently, they have been coming more frequently, expressing more urgency, offering better prices. A whispered name on their lips:   Asera.   The Keeper stares into the distance each sunset, his cloudy eyes locked on the Fret. He swears that he can see the way the patterns of the story shift, and he knows that they portent change and great upheavel. What new stories are yet to be told?