“Across the seas of existence, many worlds exist and live as true, as real things. Mernvan is but one lonely pebble in an ocean of worlds, calling out for help.

But it is our pebble.”

Arken Sowd Baron of Tshou on the morning of the Battle of Tur Na.

When The Baron spoke those words a century ago, the Ethereal Age had just begun to take a hold. Back then, horses drew the carriages and wagons, candles lit the night, and only ships built for the sea could travel to the far away lands that lay beyond the sunset.

But now eldritch engines power the world of Mernvan, and great airships crisscross the skies and bring wealth and commerce to all the kingdoms of the world. “Every serf will now be fed” roared Emperor Erger II of Hul to a raving hoard of thousands in Ors Galad on the unveiling of the great air barge eldritch armor and ride treaded behemoths to battle instead of steeds, and the pantheon of spirits still inspires hope.

But there is a great storm coming; plenty will pacify the weak, but it will not sate the strong. Mernvan has seen its progress rapid and grand, but it will soon find that progress is thickle and strange, and with new ways come new ideas.

Dangerous ideas.