These things I am about to tell you, reader, are unknown to the Pentians. Even the present Shora do not know most of these details of their past.
Why did they leave their southern island? Why are they here?
The Shora’s endless wars between its two rivals, the Aquari of the west and the Esteri of the east raged for a millennium. Yet without the desire for victory, over time they both expanded until the entire island was populated. Soon battles were being waged more frequently than once a week, hundreds falling in each. Yet there were hundreds replaced them.
The population grew to an all time high, filling the land with awe-inspiring cities, monuments, and innovations. This, during a period of constant war, but it was not war to them. The dance on the edge of life and death with a rival was the very reason to live. To fall in battle was the only true way of knowing a life was complete, and to have one’s name held high for generations to see was the greatest achievement.
It was in this peak of expansion that two of the finest kings to ever lead the Shora were born. Charismatic, hungry for glory, and the most talented soldiers in their own armies. Such great leaders had been known before, but never two at once. And the elites of their time were among the best as well. The battles between the Aquari and Esteri in those times were legendary, the largest and most evenly matched in their history. It was the golden age of their rivalry.
The fallout was less impressive. Each contest for the next century or so after the great kings’ deaths felt like an empty, failed attempt to emulate past glories. The population had taken a serious hit during the wars, and had dwindled ever since. Cities were too large for their smaller populations. Some were abandoned entirely. The great battles had become sites of honour, and adding those to the long list of a millennium’s worth of hallowed engagements, where this great man slew that great man, there were no more places to fight.
There came a time where the two opposing sides grew tired. The land felt holy, as complete as the life of one man. The Shora’s time was almost at an end. All that could be done, had been done. With only the population to sustain their original capital cities, the two kings of the ruined civilization did something that had not been done before. An alliance was forged in desperation. A giant fleet of transport ships were built, to be filled with people and resources. They had chosen to leave the land, either to begin a new chapter somewhere new, or to die in the attempt. Better to die with honour in that way than to stay and wait for the inevitable end. The Gods would understand.
So they sailed north into the endless oceans when the seas were at their calmest. After months of travel, when the end seemed near, they spotted land. They came to Pentia, landing on the island they named Islos, the first place they saw from their ships. The lands beyond were huge, a complete mystery. Their flight was over, a new world was theirs to explore. Or so they thought…
© 2013 FOTS Fantasy