The Sundering

Tome_of_Destiny

The Rending refers to a time of serious geological disturbance on the planet Norrath, spanning some eighty years and taking up the majority of the 37th century. (The 3600's.) Eyewitness reports at the time described massive chasms and canyons opening in very short periods of time, indicating significant movement or breakage of the planet's crust near populated areas.

Sir Antylus Teraeth in Castleview Hamlet identifies the beginning of The Rending as 3571, and the book Lighting the Torches of Forewarning indicates The Rending ended in 3661, a total duration of ninety years.

Text of The Tome of Destiny

You were there when it started?" Vinmar asked.

Aye. The first day." Durgen answered grimly.

What was it like?"

This is a story of how the Rending was stopped. Others may tell their own stories, but for the faithful, there can be only one answer.

Her father had traveled by sea to Freeport and then the dangerous over land route to Qeynos. “We are not like the men of Freeport,” Danei’s father said repeatedly. Well, Danei thought to herself, we are not much like the men of Qeynos, either. Her father was Feir’Dal, an archer. Her mother, whom she had never met, was a human female of Qeynos. Danei had lived with the Feir’Dal all her life, but now they were going to Qeynos.

“Where will we live?” Danei asked again. She dragged a long stick in the dirt behind her, letting it kick up tails of dust and tiny rocks. “We live where Tunare sends us,” her father answered. Apparently Tunare was sending them into the city. They had lived outside its walls, especially during the massive earthquakes that shook the lands day and night. Danei had been frightened when the lands slid into the sea, afraid she would slide in with them.

The city was rebuilding. Again, apparently. Danei’s father, though an archer by training, worked alongside the other elves, the humans and barbarians to carry out the dwarven designs. They could not find her mother; no one knew where her family had fled. And so Danei’s days were long and tedious. When the ground rumbled beneath her, Danei huddled beneath the massive oak table in their home and would not come out until her father came home.

Eventually, Danei met the other children in her neighborhood. Some were half-elven. Some were Feir’Dal. The cobbled streets and stone buildings made them uncomfortable and so they liked to climb the dust-choked trees in the small courtyards. “These trees are dying,” whispered one of the Feir’Dal. “Tunare needs to speak with Karana and send some rain.” Danei laughed, “Tunare cannot speak to him; they’re gone!” But the lad insisted. His name was Genoa.

Genoa liked to tell tales of the ancient days, when the gods walked the world. Danei wasn’t sure she believed all his tales, but she liked listening to them anyway. When the ground rumbled and shook, they would hide together and Danei was no longer afraid to come back out before her father returned. She and Genoa would hold hands and race through the streets, competing to see who could spot the latest damage.

“Our tree,” said Danei as they ran out into the courtyard after a particularly fierce quake. The tree in their courtyard had fallen sideways, half of its roots pointing skyward while its branches lay along the dusty cobblestones like a cat stretching. “Our tree,” echoed Genoa, touching its bark. They stood together and looked at it. Danei was sorry the tree had fallen. Genoa, however, seemed devastated. He walked around it, touching it gently as though it were a rare blossom and not a gnarled tree.