The Spire's Fall

Long ago, before the prehistory of every other degenerated species, the Academy was built by our forebearers, our Creators. Unlike their cold "andandta" in the north, the Academy was built as a beautiful spire of crystal and coral summoned from the ground and seas on an island that was off the coast, but still in view just on the edge of the horizon. Those living near the coast in those days considered the Spire to be a journey more dangerous than any hunt. Those who came to the Academy never returned. The Academy stored the history, stories, and magic of our creators, Those Who Came Before.

Two brave souls found the place, and after some exploring lost their canoe in the tides of the rocky shore. One of the Brothers mapped the island, while one tried to learn the stories pictured on the walls. Trapped on the island, they were the first to rediscover the ancestral language and learn it. One mastered history and language while the other studied the magic pictured in higher levels. The brothers agreed to lead in this way, the mystic dreaming ever upward and the historian keeping them grounded. In those days the Spire seemed to go on forever, and every year one or two people would make it to the Spire.

So it was that simply making it to the Academy was enough of a test for entrance, but advancement took mastery of the elements, arts, and forms of magic. One individual mastered them all, and to that person went the title of Leader of the Spire. The Leader of the Spire was advised by his Lorekeeper, and the experts in their individual crafts. Life went on peacefully until the Lorekeeper, at the end of his life, made a startling discovery - a prophecy carved in an even more cipher like script emblazoned on the floor. In thirteen generations, this Spire will pass from this land, from the sight of those inspired by it, forgotten and lost. The Lorekeeper taught others, as did the Leader, and as all beings do, they died.

Then thirteen hundred years after they set foot in the Spire, the prophecy written on the floor came true. In a massive cataclysm, and with a horrendous grinding, the undersea mountain that the spire sat upon simply collapsed. The lands spit fire and the world changed in the course of days. At the end of the cataclysmic events, the Spire had sunk steadily beneath the tropical waters and those studying there used magic to stay alive.