The Cataclysm - Current
The deafening cracks of thunder echoed for what felt like hours, across the Dark Woods. The terrible sounds of splintering trunks and the wails of falling limbs pound like the beat of a drum. No. Not a Drum. Like a heartbeat, as gradually the pounding falters, leaving the only sound as the rain, falling upon the Free Peoples heads. The weight of it all, is too much as many have fallen to their knees sobbing at the act of decimation.
The Free People in that moment have never felt more alone as they stand in the aftermath. The spirits that were with them are silent. None answer their calls. Those with the practical minds begin to mobilise the caravan to leave despite this all, and the Free People head south once again.
It is exceptionally hard to tell the impact of the act on the mists initially, with the natural fog and mist that had been carried by the storm clouds. Those with magical keen can make out in the rolling angry clouds, the face of a snarling lion, which is slowly losing form as time slips by...
The once awe-inspiring Dark Woods has been ruined, with a great ritual storm, summoned by the Free People during the annual convergence. The hundreds of thousands elves, beastkin, goblins and spirits perished in the disaster. There are only three locations left where the oldest trees still stand. Surrounding the Lake of Tears, the ritual circle of the Silent Monarch and the Fortress of Bastion in the far North.
Some of the beings who lived in the south of the woods managed to get out of the storms zone, displaced from their homes, some have settled on the boarder to Dark Wood and Afacia, living in small camps on the fringe. Others have journeyed further south, to seek new lives. The survivors within, have made no contact with the outside world, so far attempts have been met with hostility and arrows.
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