“By nature, we were survivors. By necessity, nomads. We traveled together from stone to stone, forced on by dwindling supplies, storm wracked homes, bloodthirsty raiders, and the slow descent of the old lands into the mists.” - Cyrus the Bard

Everyone has their own stories of how or why it happened, of terrible armies, angry gods, or greedy kings. The truth is lost, the results are evident. Your world is the shattered remains of a land, fragments floating through the misty void, life clinging to them.

Far above are the storms; a prismatic vortex of light and energy from which rains fire, ice and things more terrible. Far below are the mists; an endless boiling sea of cloud that seems to sing. There has never been a break in this cloud. What falls into the mists is never seen again.

The land you rest on has many names: Lightstone, Earthcloud, Homerock. It is a fragment of whatever world there was before, overflowing with plantlife and creatures. The lands gently come together, and then lazily drift apart. By this you have traversed the world.

The fragments of the broken world floated through the void, with solitary clans on each fragment, and each fragment self sustaining. By some twist of fate these fragments were pulled to together. The great Temple acted as a geomantic centre, and fragments were drawn to it. What formed was the Archipelago, and for the first time attempts at society could begin.

The clans in isolation had developed a wide range of beliefs. Friction between them was inevitable. While they overcame these differences, technology and understanding developed further in a few short years than in hundreds as nomads.

“The Union Wished to create a single culture and civilization, while the Confederacy wished to preserve clan independence. Both sides were wrong. Tradition is the closest thing we have to history, but is not history. It should neither be ignored, nor embraced” - Loremaster Kinn of the Fallen.

There were some differences that could not be overcome. Some clans simply couldn't find a place in the Archipelago, while others saw the Archipelago as a springboard to seek out their own future.

Blood was spilled. Great battles split the civilization apart. While some sides looked to homogenise the clans, others couldn't leave the old ways behind. The colonies split.

Your colony moved further away, and the routes to the others faltered and disappeared. You slipped into isolation, and as the time when all were unified slipped out of living memory, the time of unity seemed destined to become a footnote of history, or even a legend.

Under your leaders guidance, life changed. You saw man take to the skies. You saw the birth of gods, and death of demons and monuments built in their place. You tamed the beasts, tilled the land and plumbed the secrets of the broken world. In a few generations, your colony saw grew into a network of information and growth.

“I'll never forget that day. I was just a child, fishing on the edge of the fragment. I stared out into the mists, and not so much saw as felt it pulse. It was as if my brain was being sucked out through my eyeballs… It pulled me from my perch and I fell.” - Daniel Grey, last survivor of the Bellows Academy.

Your colony had dealt with the elements for generations now. They knew how to predict the storms, and steer clear of the mists… But when the Grey sea began to boil, it was a completely new and alarming experience.

Small clumps of the mist tore themselves free, and almost with purpose moved towards your colony. Where these clouds touched, they burst into nothing, stealing away that which they touched with them. People vanished without time to scream. Buildings were uprooted to leave a clean hewn crater. In some cases whole clans were wiped out.

It lasted mere hours, but did more damage than the storms had done in a lifetime.

“Not every day a man drops out of the sky. Not every day they land on the man trying to mug you either. I still owe that Laveer fellow a beer, if I ever see him again.” - Dominic Fleece, Surface Dweller.

But not all who had disappeared were not gone forever, they had merely been moved, dropped far from their homes by the boiling mists. These isolated individuals began to travel, trying to find signs of civilization.

What they stumbled across were other colonies: the places of legend and rumor. In a similar way the other colonies discovered yours. For the first time in 100 years the colonies had interaction.

The stranded found the various archives your people had stored. With careful predictions, and a certain amount of guess work, the way to their own colonies was established. People made their way home, and word of the other colonies traveled with them.

“Bloody moneygrubbing Xeno scumbags!” - Marshal Renaisse, diplomatic liason

With the continued existence of the other colonies confirmed, the more industrious clansmen set out to establish links. The best navigators from the colonies, along with skilled Geomancers attempted to locate the other colonies. This was no mean feat, as everything in the Broken World is in constant motion. Failure followed failure.

It was the Xeno race known as the Zwerginn that finally mastered the journey. The secrets of traversing the void is a closely guarded secret, though the race are unscrupulous in their choice of cargos. Humans still struggle to match the The Ferrymen, with little success.

“Maybe it was their fault, maybe it wasn't. Either way, here we had a bunch of different people from different places getting together, so the peace wasn't going to last. Something like that was all it took to bring out the worst in people once more.” - Saul Mope, independent political analyst.

For a while, things went rather well. Trade flourished between factions as each had amassed a wealth of goods lacked by the others, and people in all colonies began to prosper.

Things went downhill with what has come to be known as the Isados Incident. A group of traders were transporting supplies of a plant known as Isados, a powerful hallucinogenic, from the Confederacy to the City. They were attacked by a group claiming to be from the Union and all supplies were lost. It is unknown as to whether they were indeed behind the attack, but the Union did not later deny it. Stated that the samples should have been destroyed due to their 'immoral' and harmful nature.

This was enough to spark off conflict between the factions, each being reminded and made all the more aware of the shortcomings of the others in their own eyes.

“After the mist boiled, I feared we would lose the will to carry on. Every piece of our world recovered brought with it brought relief, but nothing suggests a hope for the future like recovering the Temple.” - Dinetti Sedlak, Ambassador of the Union.

The Temple of Elders dates back to the founding of the Archipelago. It was the sanctuary that gave society a chance to develop. When the mist boiled, it was torn from its home in Union lands, and believed lost for good.

The Nomadic traders known as the Renaisse discovered the temple half ruined on a deserted rock. At first they didn't know what they had found, but when the magics of the temple flared to life, they quickly left to report the news to all the colonies.

The colonies sent forces at once, all seeking to claim the place as a symbol for their own way. None could enter the structure however, and no force could gain a foothold on the land without the others combining to stop them. The fanatics skirmished while the rest of the World got on with things.

“It was then that I saw him. That foul demon clad in black, the spark of hatred in his eyes. The speed at which he moved, the arcs of power that tore our buildings apart, the remorselessness with which he cut down even our young children… there was no way that thing could have been human. As much as he looked it, there was no way. And just as soon as I saw him, I was out, struck on the head by part of a falling pillar. Just as well it happened, though, act of God it was, as it meant that thing didn't see me still alive to finish the job. But it won't last long. That thing'll kill us all. You… me… it won't stop until we're all dead, you just see.” - Old John, formerly of the Silver Wings.

Just when things seemed to be headed for war between factions, a sudden event changed everything. A meeting between ambassadors of the different groups was interrupted by the arrival a small fragment traveling at speed, ridden by a single man in strange clothing. Claiming to be a geomancer working for a group of mercenary warriors, he told of how he had seen one of his people struck with a strange bolt of lightning from the storms, and that they had then gone on to kill the rest of his clan. With a desperate look in his eyes he told those present to get away as quickly as possible, for this man was heading in their direction. As the ambassadors had their guards present, they opted to send away a messenger to each faction to relay this information. The ambassadors and their guards were not heard from again.

Since there have followed reports of a strange man single-handedly attacking settlements of any and all factions, obliterating everything in sight with hitherto unseen levels of storm power and leaving few survivors. There appear to be no patterns and little motivation to these attacks and thus whoever this man is, he is a great threat to the world as a whole.

“Wi'all due respect, sir, I don' think s'a good idea ta be fightin' like this. If th' Black Lightnin' has any sens'a strategy, he'll be waitin' for us all to go ta war an' half kill each other and then boom, we're stains on th'wall.” - Corvin Trist, a general in the Legion of Unity

The arrival of this new potential threat has helped to put things into perspective somewhat for the factions, and all talk of war has been put aside. After all, if there are things out there that would destroy without question regardless of allegiance, each faction is as much at risk as the next.

Once again, talks of trade and cooperation have opened, culminating in the the decision to hold meetings between representatives of all people once more at the safe haven of the old temple, just as your ancestors did generations ago.

These meetings are open to all comers. They are an opportunity to forge links, work on joint ventures, make deals and find husbands. They are a chance to discuss the future of the Broken World.