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| ==Lore== | | ==Lore== |
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| ===Prologue===
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| Welcome, humble soldiers of the empire, citizens of the flotilla, wandering [[Lightbearer]]s. You who hold these pages, hold history in your hands. This tome contains perspectives. Visions. Glimpses of a shared experience seen across a spectrum—by many—and now, through you.
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| There is a safety in old things in their ways. Their memory. In tradition and stability.
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| Do you know the wake of [[Cabal]] history? I will tell you. Though we are adrift, you should not forget it, lest time abate and the depths claim it, forever lost as ancient knowledge. Let it anchor you. Let it give you hope. Let it conjure in your mind a dream to make real. Take it, and build with it a future to behold.
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| We were a people of the sun. Our fire touched distant reaches, and warmed golden skies, once. It drew in multitudes and burnt to ashes those who would challenge its warmth.
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| The age of conquest churned the dust of a million wars into the bedrock of our empire, and with it, a simple choice to the conquered: become Cabal, or be forgotten. From many worlds they merged into one people. One Cabal. Imperial Legions reaped all they could, and citizens were eager to share in the spoils. Victory brought riches. Riches spawned greed. And greed killed honor.
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| But conquest is always in motion. An empire's borders flex with the weight of time, it's core awash in ever-new, intermingling tides that quench the fires of old, and allow them to die, as old things do...
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| [[Calus]] rose as the Legions fell. Embers of tradition were coaxed from the dust and ash, brandished and stoked anew. He wrapped the empire in promise, and enshrined his succession through a [[Caiatl|daughter]]. His peace blanketed the [[Athenaeum world]]s in pacifying fog. We breathed deep and believed, just as those who had come before us believed, that our prosperity would be eternal.
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| The tides receded at midnight. You know of the [[Midnight Coup (event)|coup]]. Of the [[Leviathan (ship)|Leviathan]]. Of the [[Red Legion]]'s [[Red War|demise]]. You have seen another age, thought to be endless, end.
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| You know, too, of the [[Fall of Torobatl|burning of Torobatl]]. Caiatl's defiant stand. Our nomadic exodus. And so too have you seen the horizon of change coming ever closer. In this, we are reborn. Like stars, we churn through the sieve of annihilation and reform-hardened by the crucible of experience. Emboldened by the lessons of our forebearers.
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| We are a changed empire. A new empire. But still, we are one Cabal.
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| Nothing that stands before us can persist. In this, there is hope.
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| We eat the mountains; we drink the seas.
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| -[[Karn'tok]], Caiatl's [[Imperial Cabal|Imperial]] Archivist
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| ==Artwork== | | ==Artwork== |
