A bard strums a haunting melody on a lute, the notes drifting through the dim tavern. As the last chord fades, he lifts his gaze to the crowd — his voice rough with age, yet steady with command.

“Draw near, travelers, and lend me your ears. I bring you the story of a world unlike any other — a realm where magic still breathes in the bones of a forgotten age. This world is called Asphodel.

In the earliest days, before the great sundering, the lizardfolk — those we now name the Nagarin — ruled without rival. Their empire was a marvel of arcane mastery and towering design, spanning a single vast landmass: a Pangea of splendor, power, and ambition. They pried at the seams of reality itself, folding dimensions to their will, and for a time, their reach seemed limitless.”

He pauses, taking a measured sip of ale as candlelight flickers across his features.

“But greatness, as any wise soul knows, often carries the seed of ruin. Their sorcery outpaced their restraint. The very forces they commanded broke loose — tearing the world apart. The land shattered into three continents — Terathia, Morgath, and Eshara — and in the heart of the ocean, the cataclysm birthed a terror still spoken of in lowered voices: the Maw of the Abyss.

The Nagarin empire collapsed. What remains are only fragments: wind-worn legends, half-buried ruins, and silent stone swallowed by sand and sea.”

A few low, mournful chords deepen the tavern's hush.

“Yet worlds do not remain empty for long. In the wake of that fall, new civilizations rose. Humans, elves, dwarves, and countless others claimed what the Nagarin left behind, carving out kingdoms and cultures across a fractured world. But make no mistake — the old power never truly vanished. Its secrets still lie entombed beneath forgotten temples and ruined cities, waiting for hands bold enough — or foolish enough — to unearth them.”

His tone lifts, wonder threading through the gravel of his voice.

“Today, Asphodel is a land of sharp contrasts, where ancient sorcery entwines with emerging craft and strange new technologies. In Terathia, the Alabastrian Empire seeks to reclaim lost knowledge, while the dark elves of Ebonvale shape their designs from shadow. Morgath remains wild and untamed — home to fierce orc tribes, secretive goblin clans, and the enigmatic Feylinn, where old traditions and older magic still hold sway. And in the relentless deserts of Eshara, the Dune Kings' Realm thrives through trade and steel, while the Necropolis of Endless Sands murmurs of a power that refuses to die.”

The bard leans forward, his voice dropping into a quiet, deliberate warning.

“But heed this, travelers: the Maw of the Abyss still turns beneath the waves — a living reminder of what unchecked ambition can unleash. Its whispers reach the desperate and the power-hungry alike, promising dominion, transformation, and a new order forged in chaos.

So I ask you — will you answer the call? Will you chase the buried truths of Asphodel and bring forgotten secrets back into the light? Or will the darkness beneath the world rise to claim you, as it has claimed so many before?”

He ends with a final, resonant chord that rings through the room. For a heartbeat, silence holds — then the tavern stirs with uneasy applause. The night is young… and the tales of Asphodel are only beginning.