One Fertile Thought

   If you have ever had an idea - a bright, infectious idea - then you might understand what it was to be there at the beginning, the birth of our world. It did not blink into existence; Amaura was crafted in the breadth of one infinite moment. The Realm of Sea bloomed from one fertile thought.

   One beautiful, consuming idea. An idea so concentrated that even the elves of Il'Ardenise with their vast minds could never hope to contain it. An idea so robust and colorful that even the most pure-hearted Chīali child could not dream it. So bold and perilous that the dauntless humans could not dare it. An idea to make dwarven inventors collapse with envy and mystical orcs shatter in reverence. An idea so magnificent and generous that it could map an entire universe onto a canvas of nothingness. And when the God whispered this One Idea into the void, the darkness trembled with delight and folded to the ignition of the universe.

   Nothingness shattered under the weight of creation's eruption, and it seemed - for a moment - that the entire experiment would implode, collapse into chaos. Yet the God did not let the Idea go unguided. He pruned it, gathered it, gave it structure, and the universe gained order and function as it flooded the once-nothing with wildness and form. And even as the universe expanded in all directions, each inch of it deepened in complexity. Creatures of all kind and consideration across all dimensions took shape upon their planets and inhabited the spaces between the stars and the unlit edges of the universe. Where once there had been only One, now countless beings tasted first breath and heard with infant ears the One Idea resonating in the antechambers of the cosmos.

   The God looked upon everything his One Idea and guiding hand had made, a radiant universe in many dimensions, shining in space and throwing itself ever outward. An eternally expanding empire in glory. Even then, the Creator was not finished. Out of all the wonders in his cosmic menagerie, He turned his gaze upon one world in particular - a small, insignificant rock shrouded in water - and He drew it unto himself. 

   For the God was not content to merely build an infinity. By the One Idea he intended to build a home with a creation He could love and be loved by in return. He descended to the planet's surface and made it his home. And that was a long, long time ago...

Of Land and Sea

   The great nations of Amaura grew, squabbled, forgave, murdered, disdained, placated, supported, enslaved, and loved one another across the centuries. Yet in all that time, no one from any of the continents could claim to have seen the God of the Sea. That is, until the Seafolk emerged from the ocean depths. These elegant, aquatic beings ministered to the continents in justice and kindness, declaring their deity - the God of the Sea - extended His benevolence to all land-dwellers (the Seafolk called them "Terra"). The Terra accepted the Seafolk's kindness but not their God. Gratitude for the Seafolks' gifts and guidance eroded into jealousy and contempt and lust for their power and beauty, boiling unto a violent outpouring of hatred. In return for their charity, the Terra slaughtered the Seafolk on the shores of Amaura and drove the angelic race back underwater. The Terra did their best to return to their old lives but could not ignore the hollow guilt the Seafolk had imprinted on their hearts. Nor could they deny the oceanic wrath that followed.

The Nautilus Crisis

   In the 399th year of the Third Age, the sea leapt upon the savage Isle Pyros - the first people to murder the Seafolk - and dragged the entire island continent beneath the waves. The Terra rallied to oppose the Seafolk's vengeance and dispatched a small band of champions to locate the Seafolk, infiltrate their civilization, and retrieve whatever power gave them authority over the ocean. It was a fatal errand with no chance of success. So when the Champions returned victorious with the Nautilus Pieces, the Terra - in their elation - did little to investigate the mysterious circumstances surrounding the victory. Some say the God of the Sea negotiated the peace Himself, but there was no one to support that claim, for even the Champions declared that in their underwater travels they never once encountered a god.

The Apocalypse

   The pride that comes from arrogant peace drove the Terra to again invite ruin upon Amaura. In 1624, the Nautilus Pieces returned to threaten the continents, this time in the hands of a young dragonborn-Seafolk orphan named Rekië. For this crisis, the help for Amaura came not from her own people but an outside visitor.

    A wizard from another world calling himself Oceanus, slipped into Amaura through a rift in the Westling Isles and gathered unto himself a band of debtors and criminals who raced across the realm to collect the Nautilus Pieces before Rekië could accomplish his catastrophic errand. Oceanus exhorted his comrades to not only stop Rekië's rampage, but to rescue him as well. Oceanus insisted his merciful attitude came not from his own heart, but as a charge from the God of the Sea. The old seafarer's claims were received with varying belief, but at the end of their voyage the band of heroes received a revelation unlike any before experienced in Amaura. When the world was saved and the crisis averted, each of the Heroes claimed to have seen the God of the Sea himself.

The New Amaura

   Salvation from the apocalypse combined with the God of the Sea's appearance to the heroes, swept the world in a wave of religious fervor. Corrupt organizations crumbled, tyrannies in Sahr'Bárabor violently overturned, crushed cultures bloomed again like flowers poking through snow, and the sea lanes raced with an electric zeal as never seen before as fear of the sea turned to intrepid joy. It seemed impossible, yet the Heroes' campaign confirmed it: the God of the Sea had not only forgiven the Terra for the atrocities of the Nautilus Criss - he had rescued them from destruction and brought mercy to their world. For decades, Amaura enjoyed this period of prosperity, justice, and wholeness - looking to Oceanus' counsel as informed by his devotion to the God of the Sea. But as before, faith in the God of the Sea ebbed over the years, for none after the Heroes ever saw a glimpse of the ocean deity. And even more, if the God of the Sea had appeared to the continents, where then were His Seafolk?

The Great Awakening

   With time, the radiance of God-frenzy dimmed, and marvel was replaced with skepticism. In 1725, the renowned mentor of Tower Legis, Erusidimus Íçira T'samaan, passed away, and his collection of essays "In Search of the Sea" published posthumously. In his death, he dared to declare what none would have allowed him to suggest in life. "Eons have we existed (none more so than now) in the grip of gods and wonders. Yet wonder falls to science, chaos to subjugation, even addiction to recovery. There is nothing that cannot be accomplished and nothing that has not been accomplished by the power of the united Amauran Will. How does one wrangle the body, the mind, the heart? He discovers the way - the science - then provides the Will to accomplish. Amaura, you have the Will, now I will give you the science. The God of the Sea is dead. Go forth thus awakened and be gods."

   If you have ever had an idea - a seductive, epidemic idea - then you might understand what it is to be here at the beginning, the birth of our Amaura: Realm of Sea. This is the era where each must chose to cling to the corpses of gods or shed such dead weight and begin the ascension to godhood. Or to wonder if, perhaps, the One Idea sill shivers in the bones of the universe, as bright and fertile as it was at the beginning of time and as vital to life as the God beneath and around us, holding the continents afloat and waiting. Waiting for us to come and reclaim what we have lost - the Sea.