Chapter II: The Isle Of Vale. We travel not to the west, nor the south and definitely not the east! Dreadfully vile that east is! Not far from Dome-Wyrd's shores rests a series of islands, fisherman settlements and towns that sat upon docks, over murky waters that they dreadfully referred to as the sea. The west islands were dangerous, riddled with pirates and thieves. The east islands were of high renown, they had their own border and refused to let anyone pass through its gates if they didn't by chance, have an "Eastern Border Pass" They were white pieces of parchment with text that read: "By the royalty invested in me by the First Ones themselves, and hereby grant the holder of this pass admission to the Eastern Islands of Mahree." The only problem was that to get one of these passes, you were required to have an audience with the King of Mahree, but to even get into the kingdom, to get and audience, you needed a pass. Hard times these were, dark times ...
The page you find yourself reading, is the only documentation, the only accounts of a microcosm infected in a state of perpetual terminus. I, Ghloth The Astral, am one of the four, archaic observers, spawned into creation by the grand archaic ones- The Watchers. Three ages have come and passed, the only light that fills the sky, is the hope that some mortal, somewhere, reading this, might just be the next one to light this doomed lands, fading, and hopeless, worldly fire.