How should I, Volothamp Geddarm, best describe the series of events that led to the Sword Coast’s downfall?
Well, it certainly isn’t brief, but I shall do my utmost to summarize, condense, and synopsize the many moving parts. It happened all rather quickly, where the cataclysmic outcome of one event set other ruinous events in motion. But, as it is known, it is best to start at the very beginning.
Everything truly started its descent when the so-called death curse emerged from the jungles of Chult. As it was explained to me, a device known as the Soulmonger entrapped the souls of all who died and drained the life from every individual who had ever been resurrected (myself included).
Unbelievably, Faerûn’s most notable heroes and affluent nobles ran! Those who didn’t flee to another plane of existence fell victim to the curse. With no one to save it, the world started to splinter. All of Icewind Dale froze solid, claimed by Auril the Frostmaiden.
We lost the cities of Baldur’s Gate and Elturel as they were dragged into the Nine Hells, leaving immense spherical chasms in their wake. The social order of the giants crumbled, and they remade their own civilizations at the expense of ours.
The surface cities soon received reports that things weren’t faring much better underground. In the realm of the Underdark, some meddling drow apparently summoned not one, but all the demon lords of the Abyss into our real
Efforts were made to contain the demons, but as all of Dessarin Valley was afflicted by what can be best summarized as pure elemental evil, the Sword Coast’s forces for good were stretched thin. One of the last nails in the Sword Coast’s proverbial coffin was when, in an act of desperation, people turned to the Cult of the Dragon for answers. It didn’t take an arcane alchemist to realize that answer had five heads and went by the name of Tiamat, the Queen of Chaos and Dragons.
The ritual was successful—and as Tiamat took her first flight into the skies of the Sword Coast, she rained down untold devastation. Behind Tiamat, her gathered brood blocked out the sky under tooth, wing, and claw. Cities crumbled and countless lives were lost. It felt as if the world couldn’t be darker. And yet…
Hidden from all our sight, the Soulmonger had been claiming souls, feasting on the anguish of mortals. From the jungles of Chult, that horrible artifact was emptied, and Vecna—the Whispered One, the Archlich, the Undying King who wrote his own tale into the Book of Vile Darkness—was reborn.
By then it was all too late, and the Soulmonger’s curse and its keeper, Acererak, handed Vecna the Sword Coast on a platter. (Perhaps I should rephrase “handed,” given that we scholars all know his left hand was long ago severed and mummified.)
Some say he orchestrated everything, though I’d personally prefer to not give him so much credit. Regardless, countless fell to Vecna’s hand, and those who remained willingly joined him, including the shrewd Zhentarim and dozens of liches. In a twist of irony, the only things preventing Vecna from extending his dominion over the entire world are other forces of evil who want it for themselves.
It’s now the year 1500.
The turn of the century would usually be cause for celebration, but not even I with my ever-burning optimism find much joy in it. So there you have it, a “brief” summary of events. May these be eternally engraved so that if the world is ever saved, we’re never allowed to repeat our mistakes. This is the darkest the Sword Coast has ever been, and it’s wholly doomed, but perhaps, just maybe… things can change for the better.