Editing Magical Realm Cyoa/Diaspora (section)

== '''History and Overview''' ==


In the times of myth and legend, Diaspora was a single realm.  A magical plane of vast landmasses, huge seas, flying islands that followed the tradewinds, and a single star which never rose or fell in the sky, but always burned brightly directly above, no matter where one lived.  In those long-lost times, the world was a peaceful place, with prosperity and happiness everywhere.  Magic was known to exist, but there was no great need to explore the intricacies of spells and enchantments, and even less need to go beyond basic agriculture and metalworking.  The land was fertile and rich and ripe with all the best things.  There was one people who were masters of the land, and all was well.

Then, came the breaking.  Great rifts appeared in the land and sea, swallowing whole nations and sundering continents.  Trade became impossible, and the great floating isles were tethered for fear they would slip through these great rents in the world.  The many scholars of the time gathered and discussed, but could find nothing in the histories or the world, nor could they understand what was happening with their meagre sciences.  The greatest mages of the time cast their strongest divinations, and learned only that the world was ending due to the actions of one being - a semi-divine entity called Xanatos.

The great realm of Diaspora was torn apart, the peoples of the realm sundered as surely as the lands.  Each land closed off from the others, most of them trapping a piece of the once great sun, and getting some portion of the rich resources as well as some portion of the people.  In the end seven great realms were formed, with a hundred smaller, lesser worlds interspersed among these.  Each of these pocket realms was connected to the others by a powerful artifice called a Portal, and each realm got at least one of these portals.  Though magical travel is possible without the use of the portals, it is exceptionally difficult.

But this was not the end of the Diasporan people's troubles.  Suddenly, the once peaceful land became harsh and dangerous.  The tamed beasts of the wild lands became feral and fearsome.  The plants became vicious, often poisonous or barbed or capable of lashing out.  The weather of the spheres was no longer mild, and even the land itself twisted into mazes, mountains and other difficult terrains.  The whole world had turned against the Diasporan peoples, forcing the once peaceful and calm natives to struggle for survival, and struggle hard.

Millennia have passed, and the world has become more harsh, not less.  The people have adapted to their environment, becoming strong and fierce, intelligent and crafty.  In each realm, the people are subtly different - travel between the realms happens infrequently, and the pockets of people have started to become racially divergent, each group adapting to the unique conditions of their own realm.  The worlds have also adapted to the people, becoming more dangerous as the people grow in strength.  In many of the scattered realms, the people have been hunted to extinction by fierce predators or have died off to natural hazards.  In these pocket worlds, nature runs wild in the ruins of abandoned and forgotten cities and great beasts hoard the last remnants and treasures of lost peoples.

While some of the Diasporan people are cut off from the main populated worlds, the majority live in or near one of the Seven Cities, each in one of the greater realms, which are connected by fiercely guarded portals in those realms.  The Seven Cities trade with each other, and the lesser realms, and grow wealthy and powerful from this trade.  The founding of these cities is considered the beginning of modern history, and saw the beginning of the slow rise of magical, technological and technomagical progress.

For most of the people of Diaspora, the world is a mildly dangerous place, equally full or wonder and challenge, a place where they can grow strong and learn to thrive despite adversity.  Yet every one of them, in some deep part of their heart, yearns for the peace and gentle carelessness of the times of myth.  And so each one curses the name of Xanatos.