From the darkness and the sand (Jalavi Dunestalker)

[Samy]

Almost 9 years ago:

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Like the old, furrowed fingers of a giant, the remains of the shattered and battered former mountains stretch up into the grey sky. The bones of the earth appear black and black-blue, criss-crossed by chasms and deep abysses that have given the Fallen Lands their current name. The fallen mountains end abruptly in the east, revealing the dunes of the Anauroch sands.

This is where the two types of desert meet - towards the north there are more and more dunes, which twinkle in the starlight at night when the little water in the air solidifies into dry snow and ice.

The former sea there has turned to sand and dust, exposed day and night to the cold, dry winds from the heart of the Anauroch: the cold glacier of the High Ice. The dry cold of the nights and the winter moons robbed every bit of water that once gave life to this place. The miserable rest was stolen by the heat of the days, especially in the moons of summer. The frozen dunes of the Frozen Sea stretch endlessly to the north and east as far as the mountains of ice.

In contrast, from here southwards, the hot winds from the Plain of Standing Stones gain the upper hand, sweeping eternally across the sand and then building up and falling back against the mountains on the edge of the Anauroch - without ever bringing rain. To the outside world, this dry, hot part of the desert, which has dug deep into the lands of Faerun like a sword of sand and cuts the north in two, is all that can be imagined under the name Anauroch.

The desert here seems dead and lifeless, far from the oases and caravan routes further south. And yet something is moving down there. A small caravan moves slowly along the edge of the mountain remnants and the cold dunes. A handful of mules, accompanied by half a dozen people, lost in infinity. But the direction in which the caravan is travelling is too direct to be accidental. Their destination seems to be the torn flank of one of the mountain remnants, where they set up camp and make themselves comfortable in the harsh conditions.

After the camp is secured and thin plumes of smoke indicate the first meal, some of the travelling party follow one of them to the rock face. It is difficult to tell who the people are, they are wearing the typical cloaks of the desert clans and wooden sand masks over their eyes

"Is it here?" "I can only see the rock face." "But the map led us right here." A tattered piece of old parchment is passed around. Only the person in charge doesn't get involved, instead scrutinising the wall of stone in front of them. The others' conversation ends abruptly when the person in front of them begins to sing softly. She raises her arms to feel the wind. The singing does not seem to be directed at her companions behind her, but rather at the wind and .... something in this place.
After a while, she falls silent and seems to wait.

Finally, one of the companions can no longer hold back: "What are the spirits telling you? Tikali, are we in the right place?"

As if in response, runes on the rock face that were hidden from mortal gaze until a moment ago begin to glow and form a portal. The person addressed takes off their sand mask and pushes their hood back over their fox-red hair. "Aye, we've reached our destination. We have found the Kaer."

[Samy]

Fragment I, found in Kerzenburg 1357

Lost in sand and rock

Centuries after the end of the realm of Netheril and after its inhabitants who had survived the catastrophe had already left their dying land, the life-devouring plague continued to spread unstoppably, turning land and living creatures to dust.

And with the withering came creatures that fed on death, suffering and dying. No one what they were .... Beings from astral space, from the dark regions of the fairy world or other, even darker planes? Perhaps from all these origins - they were simply called demons.

Nevertheless, many generations of survivors tried to live there and even founded three realms that could still hold remnants of the magical splendour of ancient Netheril. But the withering could not be stopped and inevitably began to devour all three realms. Those who could, moved to other lands... those who could not, could only die.



Some, however, sought a third way.

Mages and prophets believed they had discovered magical spells and ways to create magically protected retreats deep within the bones of the earth in the copies of the Nether Scrolls left behind. Woven spells would be able to keep the plague out and at the same time create air, light, water and food for the populations of these fortresses, called "kaers". Even pacts with powerful archfae were written that would slow down time in the kaers - for a high price.

The magicians and prophets gathered followers and construction began on nine of these kaers in the west of the expanding desert, where the natural elements of the earth promised additional protection.



When even the last lakes and seas withered to sand, the fugitives retreated to their kaers and sealed the entrances. They expected to remain for a few generations and then return to make their land fertile again.

But when the plague had devoured all life and even the land, the demons were left hungry and, in their search for new prey, found the magical sanctuaries deep in the earth's womb.