The Reaver Gods

It began with the rain of fiery stars, and ended with the coming of the Reaver Gods.

Something was driving the thri-kreen east, pushing them against the boundaries of the Tyr Valley and into war with the city-states, and none knew what…until the defenders of Tyr saw the armies of shining, fanatical warriors surging across the plains behind the fleeing armies of the insect-men, their encampments and campfires spread out beneath the Jagged Cliffs like stars in the heavens.

They had come to assault the Citadel of Borys, to launch an attack upon the Dragon’s Sanctum deep in the center of what they called Dragonseye — the lands surrounding the Sea of Silt — and to wipe it clean from the face of the world, led by sorcerers the like of which the world had seen but once, in the mad face of Rajaat the War-Bringer, who it seemed was not the only immortal madman to arise during the Green Age, and his small war in his small corner of Athas not the only war of the ancient past.

Evolved beyond dragonhood, masters of sorcerous and psionic might, and infused with the powers of the elements from a mythical time before even the Green Age, when first they had fought their genocidal wars for supremacy and bred their perfect champions. To the Reaver Gods and their empire, the great cities of the Tyr Valley were little more than a collection of squalid mud huts ruled by primitive chieftains, for even the vast might of the thri-kreen empire had been swept aside by their armies.

Next to the Reaver Gods, the Sorcerer-Kings — one-time gods of Athas — were but pitiful children to be swept away by the might of the coming storm, tossed into the skies like ragdolls and scoured to their bones by howling sands. The one hope of the people of the Tyr Valley, of all the lands of Dragonseye, was the mad one, the self-proclaimed First Sorcerer, the War-Bringer: Rajaat, creator of genocide and insane architect of the Restoration. He who was becoming the Paragon of Rain, not unlike what the Reaver Gods themselves had achieved in forgotten ages. Yet he was a hope who lay rightly imprisoned at the heart of the Cerulean Storm by the hand of the heroes of the last age.

But Rajaat was the only one who could create new Champions to hurl against the hordes of assaulting Ur-men who sought the death of Rain and who had long ago forced the last life from Water! The people and gods of the Tyr Valley had a choice between the gods of death come out of the West, and a mad god who held the only hope of their salvation, and the world, in the palm of his withered hand.

copyright (c)2005-2008 Raven Daegmorgan
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