500 – 600 ASF

Over the Fractured Centuries, the Lorekeepers proved invaluable to the scattered settlements of refugees. If the news came from a Lorekeeper, you could be reasonably certain that an otter the size of a horse was on the loose, or that a wood-disintegrating rainstorm was raging up north. You could subsequently and appropriately panic, or hunker down, or pack up and flee somewhere else. You could believe, and survive.

As the word of a Lorekeeper proved true time and time again, they became widely respected and revered. Of course, not all Lorekeepers were paragons of virtue and altruism. Some sold their lore at swindle-steep prices. Others deceived and fabricated for their own gain. But the majority understood that, in the Fractured Centuries, knowledge was survival—both for themselves and their kin.

Let’s not grant these early Lorekeepers too much credit. While their efforts made a difference, they did not “save and preserve civilization”, as some of my colleagues often posit. Humanity pulled through the Fractured Centuries because the greater powers deemed it so. Whether you ascribe those powers to the gods, to fate and chance, Mother Kelnadu, or the stars themselves, the effect was the same. Over the centuries, the aftershocks of Starfall diminished in power and frequency. Sometime between 500 and 600 ASF, aftershocks were no longer toppling the piles of blocks the peoples of Avelliron were building.

And build they did. They put down roots and roads across modern day Gaetica and Rivona, but also dispersed across the southern half of the continent. From the sparkling coastlines of Lumacia to the autumn lands of Autoria, these people found new homes. No longer worried about acidic floods, leaping lighting, and other strange phenomena, they focused their attention on more pressing matters: fighting amongst themselves. The aftershocks had faded, but not the endless reasons that people feud, scheme, and war against each other. Cycles of violence whorled through the continent as petty kingdoms flourished and faltered, swallowing up some peoples and eradicating others.

It was, at least, a return to something resembling a historical track record.

This is not to say magic disappeared from the world. Many places in Avelliron remained permanently changed, warped by Starfall and its aftershocks. New flora and fauna sprung up, while monsters prowled the land. Lorekeepers enjoyed a growing demand for their services, as well as respect and trust wherever they went. They roamed between the fledgling civilizations, became brokers of knowledge at crossroads, and served as advisors to kings and queens.

And, of course, some Lorekeepers ventured out beyond the maps. These returned with the most fantastic of lore—or not at all.