(This is a deep lore entry designed to add to the narrative of the setting)
The Epilogue of Count Sebastian Everest, Winter of 1234
Today was Warden Stonewalls hardest day as the temporary ruler of Kormyre. Today, over thirteen years unable to awaken, Sebastian Everest, Earl of the Marches, Count of Winterdark needed to be declared dead. The Count was well respected by many in Travance and while in this mysterious condition his loved ones had told legendary tales about him that spread across the kingdom like wildfire. So tall and grand these tales became that many who had never even met the man treated his name with such reverence that one would think him a savior or a god. There was no doubt in Stonewalls mind that the Count was a good man, deserving of such grandiose remembrance, but with it came the unsettling reality that the Kingdom could not move on from the weight of this now legend until Count Everest either awoke or died. The Council Stonewall had put together, while actively discussing a possible new leader, refused to actually seat a new King or Queen because the hysterical masses believed that the Count would one day awaken and that he was tied to the Kingdoms destiny. The Kingdom needed to move on, but it was clear that the masses wanted to wait. If ever there was the danger of a legend grown too far out of control, than this was it. Stonewall sadly believed that the Count as we knew him was lost to us in this world and If there was in fact a window to awaken him, it had long since passed. Even knowing this, he could not bring himself to do the deed he came to do. Stonewall looked down at the Counts peaceful face unaged by the last fifteen years, covered in a thin frost. After all this time the winter dragons ghost refused to leave the Counts side. What was this connection? Was it loyalty or love, or something else that bound her to him? It would only take a few moments, but he simply could not do it. Stonewall slowly released his grip, and gently placed the pillow back down on the bed beside him.
Several moments later, there was a knock at the door. “Come in” Stonewall called out. The door slowly creaked open and through it walked a man wearing a long dark coat and white ruffled shift. His hard boots clacked along the stone floor as he casually lighted a smoking pipe.
“Have you made up your mind then?” asked the mysterious man, eyeing the Counts still breathing body.
Stonewall looked up at him. “I can’t do it. He was always fair with me…I wouldn’t be here if not for him. Perhaps the legends of him have overtaken the reality but the Kingdom and its people do owe him more than this fate. I don’t know what he deserves, but I know it’s not this.”
The mysterious man took a long draw on his pipe and blew a few smoke rings towards the ceiling. The silence lingered a bit before it was broken. “Indeed it is not… I’ve made all the preparations. All you need to do is make the announcement, we’ll handle the rest.” Sensing unease in the Warden, he placed a slow and thoughtful hand on stonewalls shoulder “Don’t worry.” He whispered with great empathy. “The planning for this has been meticulous, and the execution will be flawless. This sort of thing is what I’ve done from the shadows for my whole life and this will likely be my last job, so I will make it my best one. He’s in good hands Ramier.”
Stonewall composed himself from the reassurance and nodded. He took one last and long glance at the Count with his Dragon Ghost and in his head, he said his final farewell.
* *. *. *. *
As Stonewall left the room, several other mysterious figures entered past him pushing carts and carrying crates. That night it was announced to the Kingdom that Count Sebastian Everest finally stopped breathing and the ghost of Mirrormeere subsequently became unbound to his body and dissipated. Since the counts body was no longer enchanted by the dragon it suffered accelerated, residual decomposition, especially in the area of the face and so a close casket funeral would be held in the capital of Aleander. His casket was driven ceremoniously in the royal carriage as the Kingdoms people, stricken with grief came out in all towns and cities to say their farewells as the carriage passed. Eventually it crossed the rift, and his body was laid to rest in the graveyard of Travance proper; for his closest friends in life had insisted that he would’ve wanted to rest there for eternity.
(This is the actual Story Prompt to base this parts individual stories from)
“The Great Weakening” (Story Prompt for the 10 year span of 1225 - 1235)
The once heroes of Travance had hit their prime just prior to the peace and never grew in power afterwards. For the first five years their power was stagnant, and over the course of the last ten years, the heroes experience a steady and noticeable weakening of their skill. Those who embraced the shift to peace are weakened by about fifty percent, while those who have tried hard to stay active over the last ten years, perhaps suffer from half of that. Those who call upon metaphysical powers find it hard or impossible to manifest the greatest (4th Rank and up) of their abilities. This is perceived less as a weakening of those powers and more as a weakening of the individuals using them or perhaps a forgetting of sorts. For some the dulling of power is expected from the passage of time, the burden of age and lack of challenging obstacles. For some it is an aggravating and frustrating time, resulting in missed opportunities, failure with real consequences and even self-loathing. Many have tried to pass on their skills to apprentices. The newer generation of heroes however are much fewer in numbers, and while some prove to be somewhat decent, all are clearly far from exceptional students.
Peace continues to grow strong and because many lives are not in danger and killed, the population blossoms and cities, towns and villages steadily grow in size. Quality of life for the common person is far greater than it was in the past.
Resurrection becomes a less commonly talked about and performed occurrence, and people are unsure if it is because there are less heroic souls in the world, less death, or if the heroic souls that did exist are regressing in their ability to fight death. The thought of someone being brought back from the dead, hero or otherwise becomes more and more a foreign concept.
In the year 1230 Aleister Demirosz is named Baron of Travance and tasked with resurrecting the long dead expansion ambitions of Kormyre.
In the year 1234 Count Sebastian Everest finally passes away after almost fifteen years in some mystical form of stasis. There are rumors abound surrounding the subject of his death but society at large reluctantly accepts the grim news and seems intrigued to looking towards the future of a new monarch and a new hope and direction for Kormyre.
In the year 1235 The High Pontiff of the church of light has shown signs of gradual health decline and is not expect to survive the next decade. Religions of both light and dark are seeing a steady decline in followers.