An End. A Beginning. | Aavana Lore (Patreon)

The face of the world was changing. Gone were the days of toiling-by-hand over every mundane task and gone were the hours of tedium that produced only enough for a single household. The steel juggernaut of industry, with its heart of caged lightning, began to spread its wings far and wide. In every city a factorum sector arose, and around each sector a new village emerged to house and feed and raise its laborers. The age of the machine arrived with thunderous ovations, touting the end to scarcities and shortages of all kinds. It was said then that in another decade, this burgeoning new world might see the advent of unimaginable things. Miracles made by mortal hands. Medicine, transportation, engineering, the study of people, the study of stars – in mere years there would be revolutionary progress in every sphere of scientific knowledge.

It was a time of great celebration and great conflict. A time of learning and conquest, of wealth and hunger, of dangerous mechanical beasts and the people they ground up.

That’s all we remember.

The Victor’s Hour

The world that might’ve been ended in the year 4049, when a war between unknown gods tore through the veil between their world and the realm of mortals. The way it’s told, the sky shattered like a window, and through each crack poured a tempest of otherworldly proportions. Storms the width of countries raged across the globe, erasing civilizations and all their histories from the skin of Aavana. Havoc reigned as endless disasters unfolded for twenty-two days. When the fury and noise of the divine hurricanes finally passed over, all that was left of the rising world were ruins. The iron-wrought bones of a murdered age became temples; battered shrines that stood in mourning for the loss of such vast knowledge and life.

For those who survived the cataclysm, the trials had only just begun.

In the decades to follow, the few remaining Aavan states entered open war with one another, each clawing for their share of scarce resources. Governments were overthrown, rebuilt, and toppled once more as natural disasters of every shape plagued them. The leaders of the once-advancing world faded into obscurity. Unable to continue vying for scraps and unable to provide for their starving populations, the old countries collapsed until none were left.

Among the people, cults arose to attempt begging for mercy from the gods who brought down the apocalypse. No answers would be heard for a long time.

Tribulation

Where their infrastructures had failed, the citizenry of Aavana persisted through resourcefulness and tenacity. With their great cities and factories demolished by chaos, droves of refugees withdrew to the vast countryside where farmlands and homesteads became the hubs of new communities. Where once the industrial age fulfilled manual needs and material wants, traditional trades were revived to take their place. As their new settlements grew, the disconnected pockets of society slowly reached out to their neighbors to found trade and alliances.

Between the sprawling ruins of the old cities, straddling the veins of a once bustling rail network, society righted itself and, indeed, began to stagger forward.