...Moontower behind me, and the dreams of The Strange Strait a distant and fading memory, I continued over the Imperial Bay. It still astonished me, the amount of travelers who came along this white-stoned behemoth, flowing westward like a spring creek.
The Grey Withers. Soulwasting. Gate-plague. Ek'grat. Magesickness. Loviatar's Opus.
No matter the name, it is spoken in fear and hate throughout the Sisters of Tempest. The disease which has felled a hundred kingdoms, a thousand cities, and at times, saved us all.
The origins of the Empire are shrouded in myth so fantastic that even the most astute historian such as myself has difficulty properly explaining the events that birthed this moon-spanning kingdom. Some claim that a God of War found young Athala and raised her to be a weapon against the apostates to the south. Others claim that the charismatic and cursed Goliath brought together the peninsula with sheer force of will to right the wrongs of the worlds.
What is known however, is that an era long ago, a young Goliath cursed with Tiefling blood rose to prominence in the northern end of Jagen. Through her own formidable power and an increasing army of disenfranchised non-humans and power-hungry merchants, she conquered to the edges of the land in only a handful of seasons.