Ohm… bop bop, ohm….. bop bop

The nearby monastery was the only source of order in the town of Rillingham’s world, every day, the sun would set at different times and rise a different color, but somehow the monks kept time, the bell ringing promptly at “sunrise” whether the sun had risen or not.

1 year had passed since the The Empyrean Crusade had come to a crashing end when they attacked Caer Lethon, the home of the black robes. They knew that no wizard could hold out against an extended assault, much less a siege. And though the army outnumbered the mages 20 to 1, the mages held out for 3 hours before the door to Caer Lethon burst. at the instant they burst, an unearthly screech was heard around the world and the tower, the army and all the mages vanished into a planar rift. Most people said it was good riddance and went on with their life, but that night a new moon was in the sky, complimenting the already present white moon with its lustrous blood red glow. Whispers raced around the land speaking of an ill omen. That morning the sun rose Blue. The world was never the same. Chaos dominated, the balance upset. Planar rifts frequently sprang up swallowing buildings or even entire towns without a trace. In their place they would leave otherworldly tracts of land populated by creatures not of this world.

Clerics’ prayers went unanswered frequently and top officials said that even the gods were flummoxed by the influx of chaos. Magic of all kinds was spotty at best.
Bandits prospered.

Still, the world attempted to go on.

Whispering Lies