The Ascension and the Sundering of the Old World

Transcribed without bias by the Librarian, Eternal Witness of All That Was and All That Might Yet Be

In the waning age of mortal dominion—amid the calamity now known as the Abyssal Troubles—five champions stood at the edge of annihilation. Their saga would not merely reshape the world; it would remake it. From the ashes of the old universe, these heroes—willingly or not—cast themselves into myth.

Three ascended. One fell. And the last vanished, name lost to time.

Here are their names, preserved not in stone nor song, but in truth.

Theren, the Raven King

God of Tranquil Shadows, Collector of Echoes, Bringer of the Final Silence

Once a wanderer, now a silent guardian of twilight, Theren is venerated among the Shadar-Kai as the one who delivered them from torment to peace. Though reclusive, his followers honor him with offerings of trinkets, blades, and artifacts—tokens he is said to find “interesting.” Yet all know: when roused to war, the Raven King does not leave survivors.

"Time to go kill a god."

• Divine Domains: Nature, Grave, War, Life

• Patron Aspects: Celestial, Hexblade, Undying

Uachdaran Bhallieomallach, the Shadowmage Sovereign

God of Arcane Rebirth, Keeper of Forbidden Secrets, Patron of Ambitious Hearts

Uchadaran oversaw the very reweaving of the Weave itself during the Rebirth, crafting a new magical era from the shattered remnants of the old world. Nobility and arcane scholars whisper prayers in his name—especially during times of political turmoil or romantic desperation.

On the New Year, it is said, if you shout your worst pickup line into the sky, Uchadaran may bless your romantic fate.

• Divine Domains: Arcana, Death, Twilight, Light

• Patron Aspects: Great Old One, Undying, Celestial

Feng (also known as Talion), the God of Twins

Guardian of Change, the Ever-Balanced Blade, Spirit of Becoming

A divine being of duality and transformation, Feng is the patron of those caught in life’s liminal spaces—between names, between destinies, between truths. Paladins revere him for his discipline and acceptance of growth. He is not a god of comfort, but of clarity.

"That whole conversation cut my brain cell count in half."

• Divine Domains: War, Light, Order, Nature

• Patron Aspects: Celestial, Hexblade, Undying

Senku, the Traitor God of Time

Demon Lord of the Broken Hour, Devourer of Memory, the Last Laugh of the Rebirth

Once a companion of the gods, Senku turned away from divinity, choosing instead the freedom—and madness—of the Abyss. There, in a realm of his own cruel design, he challenges adventurers who seek him out… only to erase them utterly, learning from their tactics, and growing ever stronger.

Though a demon lord in form, Senku is no mindless monster. He has allied with the New Gods before—when it suits him. Whether he remains part of their grand design or a threat to it… the Librarian will not say.

"I do evil. Doesn’t mean I try to kill you… just means something very illegal is about to go down."

• Demonic Domains: Trickery, Death, Twilight, Knowledge

• Patron Aspects: Fiend, Undying, Undead

Conclusion: The End That Was a Beginning

Thus concludes the tale of the Ascension.

• Three rose into divinity.

• One descended into damnation.

• And a fifth’s fate remains unspoken and unmade.

From this fracture, the world was remade—not as it had been, nor as it was destined to be, but as these few willed it into existence. Their stories mark the first page of the age to come.

Let none forget: divinity is not granted. It is chosen… and earned.

The Scar of Destiny

Recorded by the Librarian, who does not dream, but remembers what dreamers become

While the world trembled beneath the yawning Abyss, another storm gathered—quieter, stranger, no less dire. The Scar of Destiny Campaign chronicles the converging paths of nearly two dozen adventurers, each branded by an ethereal mark—origin unknown, purpose unclear—yet all drawn inexorably toward a single fate.

This saga begins mere months before the events known as Out of the Abyss, unfolding in the same age, under the same dark stars.

These bearers of the Scar were not chosen by blood, nor prophecy, nor divine whim. They were marked. And that mark would lead them into battle against Quad, the god of Four Elements—a primordial tyrant who sought to bend wind, flame, earth, and sea to one singular will: his own.

What began with three souls became a storm of twenty. United by fate, shattered by consequence, the Scarred did not march as an army—but as an event.

On the Scar Itself

The Scar of Destiny was no simple curse or blessing. Etched into the flesh or spirit of its bearers, it twisted with time and choice, growing stronger—or hungrier—with each step taken toward destiny. Some say it was a key to the divine lattice. Others claim it was a scar from a world that had already died once before.

All agree on one truth: no bearer of the Scar walked away unchanged.

On Quad, the Fourfold God

Quad, known also as the Tetrarch of Ruin, was an elemental god fractured across the four primordial domains—earth, fire, water, and air. Though once worshipped as a protector, he became warped by his own ambition, seeking not balance but domination.

To face him was to face four dooms at once. To defy him was to shake the firmament itself.

The Scarred did both.

Legacy of the Scarred

Though records of each individual vary, the collective impact of the Scarred is indisputable. T̸̲͛ë̴̖m̸̲̚p̶͍̊l̵͆͜ȅ̷̯s̶̰̎ ̶̜͘h̸̖̄a̸̹̎v̴͈́ḙ̴͌ ̸̬̈b̶̖̅è̷̦e̴͑͜n̶̞͊ ̵͖̾r̵͙͛a̸̋ͅi̶͚͐s̸̪̎ẽ̴̤d̴̼͑ ̸͚̅i̷̧͆n̴̯͗ ̵̣̑ẗ̵͖́h̵̨́é̶͕i̸̅ͅr̸̢̉ ̵̜̀n̸̥͝a̶͈͝m̵̭̄e̶̺̍,̶̨͠ ̴͙̄a̸̼̕n̴̢͛ḓ̸̓ ̸̙̋r̸̼͆u̴̞͗i̴̦̍n̵͍̉s̷͍̄ ̴̠͆l̸͇̿e̴͔͝f̶͙̿t̷̩͘ ̶͈̐i̷͋͜n̸̛̞ ̵̮͗t̷̼͐h̷̩͗e̷̪͝ì̴͔r̴̡͘ ̷͍̈w̶͈̾a̷̰̕k̶͙̕ẻ̶͔.̶̪̈ ̶͍͗ S̸̱̰͉͓͖͎͍̘̝̯̎́̌͜ỏ̸̢̲̮͖̼̝̗̯̦̤̜͔̱̀̐͛m̵̝̳̹̹̺̭̿́͋̃͐͒͘e̶̢̥̱͇̺͗̽̊̄̔́̍̎̑̕͘͝ ̸̭̜̦̠̤̅̔́b̴̪̪̮͍̖̎͒̂ȩ̶̨̣͎͔̋̄͌͘c̴̡̧͕͇̯̱͇̣̫͕̼͐̈́̈́̀̅̐̑à̶̡̡̡͓̜͇̻̞̰̳͙͘̚͠m̴̠̭̙̤͎̓́̏͗͆͜ę̴̠͉̜̞̺̮͈̃͗̔̓̿̓ͅ ̴̠̬̦̖͓̟͕̦̩̟̔r̴̮̈́͒̈ǘ̷̻͈́̓̅ļ̶̻͙͇̤̘̑̈́̽̂̍͝ȇ̶̹̙̫̼̗̩̼͉͔̪͗̿̓̽̓̅͒̕͜͠͝͝r̵̫̥̄̎̋̈́̈́̎̆̔͐͊͘̚ṣ̴̳̥̜̬̬̤͈͉̗̳͋͐̚,̶̜̖̿̊̅̉̅̅̾̔̈̉̋͘ ̷̨͈͙̟͕̋̉́̿̿̈́̂̓o̶̫͈̻̥͉̗͗͊̽͘t̸̡͓͚̳̰̲̎̀h̸͈̮̖̯̬͈̫̥̺̭̞͔͍́̏̚͘ë̴̡̡̡̞̟̘̱̥̠̲̲͔̓͛̾ͅr̴̨̨̩͖̖̪̺͂̓̿̀̀̀̓̇͂̓͊̐̎s̵̛͕͓̜͕̣̔̔͒̑̓͛́̀̎͜ ̶̧̡͎̘̹͕͔̠͔̙͖̎͐̊̚͘m̸̯̲̓̈́́͝ą̸̻̘̙̀r̶̫̖̪̖̬̥̖̰̮̋̐̅̑̈́͒̄͒͊̃͘͜t̷̛̛͚̟̮͎̥͍͎͕̽̈́̅͐̈̿ͅy̸̝͐r̵̢̨̡̥̻͕̝̠̈́͑̽š̶̃͜,̷̪̺̣̗̤̣͕̬͊̇̓̾͊̍̒̆ ̶̳͖̼͎͉̲͆̿ą̴̨͙̭̠̹̻̪̲̫́̾̋̂̅͌̔̽̌́̀̐͝ṉ̸̆̿̀͆̒̂̚͘̚͠d̶̛̤̉́̃͂̈́̇̇̈́͐̔͗͋ ̶̤͔̰̺̞͔͎̠̞̙̈́̔̋͊a̵̰̬̣̼̮̘͌̀͗̂̿͝ ̷̝̱͇̞͎̩̜͌̄̑f̵̫̜̤̎̎͛͛̎̒̉̈́͒̕ę̸̢̩̲͈̫̤̼͆͐̎͌̃͐͘͝w̶̨̹̭̦͗ ̸̲̖͔̭͓̰̗̗͋̂͐̐͗v̶̡̥͔̥͚̱̗̘͛́͒͌ả̵͎̤̮̝̻͈͇̲̩̭̠̐́̓͝n̵͇̗͓̮͈̮͒̈́̈͛́͗͜͝͠i̷̲̮̲͚̥̅͑͛͌͂̌͘͠s̶̛̤͕̔̅̕͘͠h̵̢̩̟̹͔̻͙̟̽͊́͑͒̽͒͐̓̚̕͝ͅe̴̡̝͇̝̰̞̟̠̺̤̤̽͗͑͊̃̊d̶̳̠̖̦̭͎̋̇̽̂͊̊̕͝͝ͅ ̸̧̗̼̟̳̭͊̂̍̎̽̈̀̆̐͋̃͌ͅe̴͚̠͒̎̕n̶̨̘͇͓̭̰̻͜͠t̴̛͔̞͕͖̮̩̭̦̗̏͂̓̊̐̉̉͌i̷̱̲̟͓͔̺̠̮̩̿̀͒̍͗́̎͐̑̒̽̕͠r̷̘͕̖̂͌̊̄̿͐̄̊̿̕͘͝͝ͅę̴̫̩͙̣̈̐̌͆̈͝͝ļ̴̦̜̙̲͍̬̼̠̻̓̎y̵̙̬̜͇̳̔̅̔̈́̌̓̿̒͂̔—̸̮̝͛̋̒̿͜t̵̻̞͖̲̙̾̔͒̚͘͠à̸̟͙̗͊̇͒̊̊͊k̴̝͔̩͓͎̲̩̀̅̿̓̑̊͊͋̈́͘͠͝͝ị̶̛̛̟̟̹̪̮̺͈͉̋̉̅̈̃́̔̈͋̔̀͜ͅn̴͙̼̩̭̯̠̫͔͓̫̠̱̋̀͌͐̚͜g̵̢̼̪̣̮̤̘̻͇̅̃́͜ ̶̺̞̼̻̠͋̾͂̾̈́͂̓̋̈̓͌t̷̻̩̉h̶̛̜̘e̴͚̾͊̇̉̈͗͌̐̈́͒̚͜ī̵̙͉̜̫̆̐̾͂̚͝ȑ̷̘̹̓̈́̒ ̵̡̨̤̟͓̺̱͉̜͖̯̙̿̎͒͊̀͛̚͝k̴̳̇́̆̃̚̕͝ͅn̵̨̢̙͕͙̫̦͇͙̂̌̏̉̓̓̔͘̚͝͠ͅo̷̝͓͎̖͉͖̿͆̍̊̓̆͆̂̎̕w̴̢̛͓̗͉͒̈́̽̏̽̔̓̈́́̚l̵̜̗̻̠͇̩͇̒̅͗ͅë̷̱d̵͔͙̜̺̣̲͇̊͋̾̅̈́g̸̡̟̭͓͚͗̿̽̓̑͗̔͑̌̾ę̶̨̹̬̝̞̱̝̹̘̻͌̃̍̉̅̕ ̶̧̛̼̼͍̩̮͎͓̍̅̾̀̒̂̈́́̕͜ͅo̷͎̠̠͙̰̒f̵̡̖̱̯̦̞̼̜̩̬̹̗̃̿ ̸̛̻̹̟̦̗̻̽̔́̑͌͜ţ̶̢̔̄͂̊́̃̄̆̓̎h̷̻̥̺͇͓͚̜̣̑͜ẽ̸͕͕͇̠̖͍̭̊̅̋̽͛́̈́̉́̿͝ ̵͔̞̻̯̇̄͒̂̓́́̂̑Ṣ̴̨̪̱̙͇̿̌̎͊̄̌̋̈́̑̈́ç̵̢͉͚͉͇̣̜̩̲͉̗̤̒̈́́̋̾̈̃͘͠á̵̖͑̋̏̋͌́̔̈́̒͒̕r̸̞̮͚̊̇’̴̘̙̯̟͎͓̠̆̏̋̍̽́͐̒̈̿͂̾͘s̷̞̲͍̺̩̮̼̠̪̺̐̍̾̓̏̀̓̍̓͜͠ ̴̼̩͍͍̦͍̰͇̇̅̿̀̑̃͒̈́̒̓͌̎͠o̸͚͖͚͔̹̻̦͌̍̊̀͗̌̃̓͝r̴̼̜͔̗̭̼̽͐̄̈́̋ͅȉ̷͈̦͙͈͇̖̗͍̺̠̐́͝ġ̶̨̢̙̗̫͉̮̍͑͂̈́̓̀ī̷̡̩̳͖̼̤͔͉̤̰̫̜̱̒ń̵̨̡͎̱̯̯̬̼̇͌͑͌̕͜ ̷͎̘̬͂͌̑͊̔͘͘w̴̝̻̪̱̲̒̀̀̾̌̀̀͘͘͘͠i̵̟̐̈́͌̈́͛͂̈́̎͐͂̈̚͝t̵̛͚̘͑̍̍̑̿͜͠h̸̼̳̞̥̓͋̃́͒̕͠ ̵̡̢̟̱̹̈́̇͌͒̀̆̍̈́͘͝ţ̴̢̨̜͖͚̺̻̭͎͒̿̄̔̚͜͝h̶̤̖̜̹͕̦͇̦̻̮̃̀̽́̔͊͐̋̚ę̵̱̖̺͕̤̍͑͒͗̉̚̕͘̕͜m̴̨̱̘̠͔̝̱͔̻̮̖̑̒́̿.̴͍͓̠̥̣̠̭͇̤͉̮̹̈́͊ͅ

The Librarian has indexed all known bearers of the Scar, though that list remains… incomplete.

“Destiny is not a road. It is a scar left behind when you try to escape it.”
—Attributed to an unnamed bearer

As compiled from the fractured recollections of Vincent the Survivor, last of the Contenders, transcribed with cautious reverence by the Librarian

The Divine Contention marks one of the final—and most enigmatic—conflicts of the Era of Epicae. Though records remain sparse, what persists is the story of the Divine Contenders, nine champions each bound to a weapon not merely forged of steel, but of conviction. These were no ordinary arms; they were ideological relics, each a vessel of a worldview incarnate—from unwavering Lawful Good to unchained Chaotic Evil.

It is said that to wield one was not only to adopt its philosophy, but to become it.

The Contenders were gathered, by fate or folly, to confront a singular threat: Adran Amastica, the first Blackguard. Once a paragon of paladinhood, Adran’s ideals curdled into fanaticism, his godless gospel preaching order through obliteration. Entire cultures, beliefs, and lives were marked for “correction” under his divine tyranny.

But it was not Adran alone who doomed the Contenders.

Among their number stood Tidus, once trusted, once cherished, bearer of the weapon now remembered only as The Severance. Whether the blade bent his mind or merely revealed its truest shape is a matter scholars and poets will never agree upon. What is known is that Tidus betrayed the Contenders at the moment of their greatest need—siding with Adran, striking down his comrades, and ensuring their downfall.

It was not merely a betrayal of strategy or morality, but of trust itself—a wound so deep that its scars remain etched in the very myths of this era.

The war ended not with triumph, but with interruption. Adran Amastica was halted, his physical form sundered—but his ideology, like all persistent rot, remains. And so too does The Severance, lost or hiding, as treacherous as the hand that once held it.

Of the nine, only one endured: Vincent the Survivor—a half-elf bard and former blackguard, whose regrets weigh heavier than his blade. Whether his survival was fate, failure, or penance is a question he never answers the same way twice. His broken songs and scattered writings are all that remain of the Divine Contention—and they do not always agree.

On the Weapons of Ideology

Though many details are lost, the following are widely accepted:

Dawnshard – Lawful Good

Verdict – Neutral Good

Redemption – Chaotic Good

Honor's Edge "Whelm" – Lawful Neutral

Equinox "Wave" – True Neutral

Fluxbrand "Last Quip" – Chaotic Neutral

Justiciar – Lawful Evil

Whisperlash "Blacktorrent" – Neutral Evil

Nullbrand "Blackrazor" – Chaotic Evil

Each weapon was rumored to reflect its bearer’s soul, often warping them in turn. When their wielders fell, many of the weapons vanished—some say they shattered, others that they chose slumber over further conflict.

“Tidus didn’t betray us. He finished the argument the rest of us were too scared to have...but to what end?”
—Vincent the Survivor, somewhere between a confession and a curse

As observed across continents and planes, and recorded without embellishment by the Librarian

In a rare convergence of fate and folly, two distant bands of adventurers waged war against death and darkness upon opposite ends of the world—unaware that their actions would converge upon the same unraveling thread.

In the steaming, corpse-choked jungles of Chult, the archlich Acererak conducted his most blasphemous work yet—binding an unborn god, an Atropal, within the Tomb of the Nine Gods. There, Blath and Umbero, champions of endurance and cunning, ventured into the tomb’s bowels to destroy the source of the Death Curse: a creeping entropy that unspooled souls from the cycle of life and made resurrection impossible. With blades drawn and breath shallow, they cast the malformed god-thing into oblivion.

Far to the frozen north, beneath the fractured auroras of Icewind Dale, another group of would-be legends battled the cruel divine hand of Auril, goddess of winter’s cruelty. Her Everlasting Night blighted the land, sealing it in isolation and despair. These adventurers, shivering against a darkness not merely cold but eternal, shattered her dominion—if not the goddess herself.

It should have ended there.

But the victory in both regions pulled too hard upon the Weave. The great tapestry of arcane law had held firm for millennia, stretching and flexing through the ages. But something ancient had slithered through its fraying strands.

Dendar the Night Serpent—called by some the Sleeper Below or the Mouth of Nightmares—had stirred. Awakened by the weakened Weave and drawn by the accumulated suffering of the age, she sought to consume magic itself, unmaking the foundation of reality to usher in the Great Sleep.

The Weave began to tear.

Recognizing the gravity of what had been set into motion, the heroes of Chult and Icewind Dale—separated by leagues and lore—came together, united not by prophecy, but by desperation. Beneath a sky flickering with dying starlight, they faced the coiled god beyond dreams.

They struck as one, and in doing so, they bound the Night Serpent once more. Whether she was slain or merely banished is a matter of scholar’s debate—her essence is antithetical to permanence. But the act of binding Dendar reignited the dying spark of the Weave. Magic stabilized. Reality sighed.

And the world, for a time, was whole.

“What began as two tales became one myth. And myths, unlike mortals, do not fade. They echo.”
—The Librarian

Era: Contemporary

Ah yes, The War of Dragons. The conflagration that ushered in the Contemporary Era with fire and thunder—both literal and divine. Officialdom may place its declaration in 1490, when the Council of Waterdeep at last gave voice to the war already blazing in the shadows. But those of us who dig deeper know the truth: the war began when prophecy blinked, and a man dared to see it clearly.

Severin Silrajin was that man. A nobody. A scholar of middling talent. A man of no particular consequence—until he beheld a vision from Tiamat herself. The Cult of the Dragon, long obsessed with undead wyrms, had misunderstood their own creed. “Dragons shall rule the world entire,” yes—but only after “naught is left save shattered thrones.” The missing punctuation became Severin’s dogma.

With clarity became conviction. With conviction, power. He reformed the scattered cult into a singular engine of apocalyptic will. Around him gathered the Chromatic Wyrmspeakers, each bearing a divine mask imbued with a fragment of the Dragon Queen’s essence: Varram, the White Mask of Savagery; Rezmir, the Black Mask of Ruthlessness; Neronvain, the Green Mask of Cunning; Galvan, the Blue Mask of Pride; and Severin himself, the Red Mask of Power.

And yet, as with all great calamities, fate did not sleep.

From the ashes of a burning town called Greenest rose five unassuming heroes: Fenrir the chronologist, Smoke the sly, Valloth the blood-marked, Aknir the fire-born, and Malia the paladin steadfast. To them were given metallic masks by Bahamut himself—gold, silver, bronze, copper, and brass—and they came to be known as the Metallic Wyrmspeakers. Around them, allies gathered. Leosin Erlanthar, the monk who gave his life and reclaimed it. Enna Baenre, the rogue who bound the Zhentarim to a nobler cause. Two more masks emerged—ghost and amethyst—symbols of sacrifice and shadow, wielded by those who dared to hope.

Their path led them to the halls of Waterdeep, where lords and factions debated while the world teetered. It was the “Five Guys,” as the tavern songs now call them, who kept the council from crumbling under the weight of pride and politics. With grit and grace, they unified the realms and carried the war to the Well of Dragons.

It was there, beneath a scorched sky and over bones of the fallen, that prophecy fulfilled itself in a cruel twist. For when the last Chromatic Wyrmspeaker fell, Tiamat rose—called not by intent, but by contingency.

And yet… they stood. Five against a god.

When the dust cleared, it was not the Queen of Dragons who remained. The Five endured, scarred but triumphant. Tiamat was banished once more to Avernus, and the world, though broken, still spun.

And so ended the War of Dragons—a war that began with a sentence and ended with silence.

“They called us the Five Guys like it was a joke. And maybe it was. But when the skies turned red and the world split open, the joke held the line.”
—Malia, last words before the final charge at the Well of Dragons

This tale is still being inked, its final verses unwritten. Until time permits clarity—or calamity—I shall observe in silence. The record will resume once the dust, or blood, has settled.

As per the Dungeon Master

shit hasnt even happened yet stay tuned fr

heres an ascii deer

\|/    \|/
  \    /
   \_/  ___   ___
   o o-'   '''   '
    O -.         |\
        | |'''| |
         ||   | |
         ||    ||
         "     "

On the lone island of Mintarn the corruption of the Sword Coast takes physical form.

A new plague, the Rot, haunts the small island transforming the inhabitants into mindless hungering creatures. Now a team of misfit adventurers must do all they can to uncover the cure to the plague, the secrets behind the new government, and the mysteries of the island

"Coins are what matter. And to earn coins, one needs roads — or the love of Umberlee.” — King Palaghard Obarskyr II of Cormyr[23]

.

Era: Contemporary

And so we arrive at the present—a time when wars are not always waged on battlefields, but in wine-stained parlors, shadowy alleys, and beneath city stone. The Grand Game, as it has come to be known, is no war in the traditional sense. Yet it has cost lives, fortunes, reputations, and—perhaps most importantly—souls.

The stage is Waterdeep, still smoldering with scars from The War of Dragons. Its gilded spires and guttered lanes are no strangers to scheming, but never before has the city’s underbelly become quite so exposed. The cause? A half-million gold coins—embezzled by former Open Lord Dagult Neverember in the waning days of his rule. With political pressure mounting and dragons descending, he secreted the fortune away, leaving behind a vault sealed by magic and memory.

But memory fades. Magic frays. And five years hence, the vault’s location has slipped into a haze—shrouded by the enchantments of a most peculiar artifact: the Stone of Golorr, an abolethic relic that hoards knowledge like a miser hoards coin. Only by recovering its lost "eyes"—obsidian stones scattered throughout the city—can the path to the vault be seen once more.

Now, five factions vie for the truth behind the stone and the riches it promises.

The Manshoon, long-thought dead, has returned. The archwizard leads a rogue splinter of the Zhentarim, seeking to legitimize his claim over the organization and supplant its current leader—Enna Baenre, the Amethyst Wyrmspeaker who once turned the tide of a war and now governs from the shadows.

The Xanathar, the city’s infamous beholder crime lord, plays the game with all ten eyestalks open. For the mad tyrant, the gold is a means of purging interlopers and reaffirming his dominion over Waterdeep’s depths.

The Cassalanters, noble in name and damned in truth, race against infernal time. In a desperate gamble with Asmodeus, they traded their children’s souls for wealth. One is already lost. The gold offers a loophole—an escape clause for the rest. Their grace is measured in blood and coin.

Bregan D'aerthe, the elusive mercenary band of dark elves, enter the fray under Jarlaxle Baerne, the flamboyant puppeteer of Luskan. For him, the vault is a lever—to pry open a seat for his city within the Lord’s Alliance and shift the continent’s balance of power in his favor.

And caught between them all: the Hype Squad. Unremarkable at first glance, this motley crew of adventurers now finds themselves in a deadly treasure hunt, pursued by factions, fate, and forces beyond reckoning. Some claim they are pawns. Others say they are the game’s wildest card. Time will decide which.

The vault has yet to be opened. The Stone of Golorr is not whole. And the city teeters.

“All seek gold—but it is truth they unearth. And the truth, dear reader, is far heavier to carry.”
—The Librarian, on the Grand Game

Taking place far from Velkarn's Prime Material Plane, 'Planescape: The Second Upheaval' (TSU) is an Outer Planes story. 5 unfortunate material-plane adventurers, known collectively as Catching Strays, hit a string of bad luck, and end up scattered across the Outer Planes for several years. Transformed on physical and mental levels by their time separate and alone, they reunite in Sigil, the City of Doors, the proclaimed 'center of the multiverse.' As they grapple with their new reality, somethings are moving across the face of the Outer Planes, two entities summoned from another universe entirely that could destroy the delicate balance of this alignment-ruled world.

As recounted in great depth by the Librarian of Echos.

The story of Princes and Prophets. The A-Team, consisting of Aelar Siannodel, Aeleen Crytanthus, Amira Abalone, Abbey Huntsilver, and Pane, venture across Faerun to end five elemental cults. Their story is not quite finished yet. 

What would you sacrifice to get what you’ve always wished for? - The Black Angel