The War of Fragmenterra

A Retelling So Very Practiced
“Young Master Sol’sar, staying up late won’t win you a bed time story.”

The matron of the orphanage was moments from snuffing out the last torch, stopping when she noticed the young boy by the glowing embers of the extinguished fireplace.

“I miss my father.”

The words were solemn, ringing with a deep maturity no person of his age should have. “Tell me about his death again. Remind me of why he died.”

This desire to reminisce about a man the young one never knew was a regular occurrence and took the matron by no surprise at all that on this night he felt it again. “You need to go to bed. Tomorrow is your birthday and there are chores to be done."

“If you tell it, I will do them by noon as well as this fireplace.”

Accustomed to this sort of cheek, she was quick to retort, an arrangement always a quicker fix than a refusal. “For the fireplace and a clearing of the chimney, I’ll tell you just the beginning and you can dream about the rest.”

“Deal!” The grin on the young one’s face exploded from nowhere, the creases at the corners of his lips made to appear even greater by the shadows cast from dim coals nearby.

Folding hands over her waist, she took to the chair opposite him, and leaning forward, stared right into those youthful eyes filled with equal parts pain and hope for a retelling so very practiced.

The War of Fragmenterra
The days of our present are a time of celebration. For twelve years now, we continue to count our blessings and give thanks that we no longer live fearful in a time of war. Our libraries have never told of a time of more loss and horror, a time that scarred not only the mortal races with unthinkable losses but the very world itself. Never will the wounds fully heal that were inflicted by the War of Fragmenterra.

The grand scape around us and as far as we have traveled was once a single mass of land. Separate kingdoms fostered entire rises and descents of civilizations never knowing of each other’s existence due to the impassable terrain on every border.

All was relatively peaceful until the occurrence that would dwarf all other problems before it. The Day of First Rupture sent a deafening crack throughout the world, its sound loud enough to travel to the four corners of the map hitting every land in succession. The mountains that kept the lands coddled fractured and turned to chunks and rubble. The foundation that they were build upon were equally notwithstanding to the challenge as over half of the world’s land mass descended quickly into the crust of the planet. For three whole days, now named the Three Days of Confluence, the world cascaded its lifeblood into this new super-colossal vessel, sea levels simultaneously dropping from the familiar while rising in the new.

This shift of ocean levels and the disappearance of the largest mass mortals knew of was ample enough to throw the finely balanced seesaw of nature off a cliff. A planet in turmoil, surging with power in its rawest form began spewing forth elementals at a rate the kingdoms had no army sufficient to deal with. Elementals of fire, light, water, darkness, air and earth erupted in different places around the world, the very terrain of a location birthing the element most suited to its nature.

Turning the tide of war, many kingdoms defended their lands to great success achieving a day of respite before more waves of elementals washed over the corpses of their kin to lay siege once again. When it was time for individuals and communities to finally flee in a direction that promised nothing, on occasion, more mortals were found.

It was then that the six kingdoms began to exchange information and cultures. This time of war was the strong catalyst required to bond mortals in a fight for their existence against an environment that was always believed to be their provider. Information, technology, supplies and traditions were traded at record speed, everything at the disposal of one kingdom was now offered to the others. Like six brothers in a brawl for their lives, they stood back to back and against all odds finally face what seemed like their final test.

As if the world had run out of breath, the trickles of elementals slowed to meager at best, not in vast contrast to the small strongholds of mortals remaining dotted around the world. It was at this time that the globe drew its final breaths expelling a few grand monstrosities on the world, one birthed in direct intention for each of the six kingdoms.

Despite the fifty years of veterancy under the belt of any surviving mortal alive, battle hardened heroes to spare were in short supply. Regardless, one emerged from each place to defend what was left of the kingdoms they represented. Each of these elemental enormities fell one after another barely days apart. Victory messages sent barely reached their recipient nation before triumph in this place was also achieved.

And so, the Fifty-Year War of Fragmenterra was ended by six brave souls who sacrificed everything to preserve what is left of our wounded world and usher us into this era of precious peace.

The young boy yawned with gaping maw; his eyes heavier than a basilisk's. Smiling deeply, a happiness bubbling from within him as his soul felt as if glowing. He stood to head to bed

“My father was a good man wasn’t he?”

The matron rose to her feet also, taking the young boy up in her arms.

“One of the greatest to ever bless this earth with his feet.”