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A Glimpse of the World

The realms of Errun writhe under the thorned hand of the One-God. For five hundred years, Quelathur has ruled, his armies of Shapen crushing any who oppose the high-elven empire.

Yet, the God-Emperor is afraid.

The western shore stands free, flying the black-boned dagger of the Gambler. In broad daylight, the seafolk worship a false god and their bloodied priests speak of His second coming, of another Reaving, when the God of Wrath shall slay men once again.

The North remains silent, ever beyond the God-Emperor’s grasp. The Dragon Kings of Thelia stand watch at Galdain’s Wall, for their are omens of things worse than the Final Reaving. The Ever-Night awakens, and the Sons of Numain return.

Even in the Empire, whispers of rebellion spread. Long it has been, but the bowed kingdoms of the East shall rise once more.

What then of the lands caught between realms, of those who look and see the first dawn of war? What of the powerless, the slaves of men and vice? If an answer can be found, it lies in the Leguvoi, the Masted City.

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Of Chains and Swords Minidal Minidal