These tales are works in progress.
I. THE CALL
Long after the ancient wound of Balance had been bitten open by Vel, its resonance still echoed across the stars. That distant Song reached worlds far beyond Rhuna, stirring the hearts of those who could hear it. Among them were Meridia, Vanthis, and Anmor. Though strangers to one another, each felt the same impossible pull.
II. THE GATHERING
The Call spread like fire through the Nuhlrin. Families abandoned their homes, soldiers laid down old banners, and builders packed the last of their tools. Entire caravans gathered beneath the promise of something greater. Together, they chose exile over decay.
III. THE CROSSING
Before them stood the ancient scars between worlds—vast gateways left behind by older catastrophes. With hope as their guide, the Nuhlrin stepped into the unknown. Behind them lay everything they had ever known. Ahead lay only uncertainty.
IV. THE GREAT BALANCING BETRAYAL
What should have been passage became catastrophe. Vel’s corruption twisted the ancient pathways, shattering the migration and scattering countless souls into darkness. Entire bloodlines vanished in moments. From that ruin, scattered Wither pockets spread into the great Witherlands.
V. THE FIRST COUNCIL
Amid the fog, ruin, and death, despair threatened to consume what remained. But Meridia, Vanthis, and Anmor refused to let the Nuhlrin break. There in the ashes, they forged the first pact of survival. It was the first true beginning of Meridia.
VI. VORAKH, THE GREAT USHER
Not all horrors of the Witherlands hunted with fang or claw. Vorakh walked beside the migration, silent and patient, collecting those who abandoned hope. Some called him the Hollow Shepherd. Others simply called him death.
VII. THE LONG MARCH
For years the survivors walked beneath poisoned skies. Vanthis defended the caravans from beasts and raiders, while Anmor built roads, camps, and shelter where none could be found. Meridia carried the Song of Balance forward, giving purpose to those who had none left. Together, they endured.
VIII. THE GREEN HORIZON
At the farthest edge of ruin, the fog began to break. For the first time since the Betrayal, the Nuhlrin saw untouched lands stretching beyond the darkness. Rivers ran clear. Grass still grew. Hope returned to them like breath after drowning.
IX. THE FOUNDING
Upon reclaimed earth, the Nuhlrin chose to build rather than wander. Stone by stone, road by road, the first foundations were laid. What began as a desperate refuge slowly became something greater. Here, Meridia was born.
X. THE NATION OF MERIDIA
From the Long March rose more than survival—it rose a people. Forged by sacrifice, tempered by hardship, and united by the memory of Balance, the Nuhlrin built a nation that would shape the future of Rhuna. Though kingdoms would rise and fall around it, Meridia endured.
Written ChronicleCopy link
The Long March and the Founding of Meridia Copy link
After the Bite of Vel had shattered the Plane of Balance, long after the first wounds between worlds had scarred creation, the echoes of that ancient catastrophe still lingered throughout the cosmos.
Across countless distant worlds, few could hear it.
Fewer still understood it.
Yet beneath the noise of war, ambition, and fear, there remained a quiet resonance—a call carried through the ancient portal scars left by Vel's betrayal. Some heard it as a distant song. Others as a dream. Others still as a longing they could never fully explain.
As conflict and division fed the lingering strength of Vel, that call grew stronger.
Among those who answered were three figures whose names would endure for ages: Meridia, Vanthis, and Anmor.
Meridia possessed neither a crown nor an army. She was remembered instead for her vision—a belief that the call could not be ignored. Vanthis was a protector, a warrior whose strength inspired others to follow. Anmor was a builder, a planner whose wisdom transformed uncertainty into purpose. Though they came from different walks of life, all three shared the same conviction.
Together they gathered those willing to leave everything behind.
Families abandoned ancestral homes. Scholars packed the last remnants of their knowledge. Farmers loaded wagons. Craftsmen carried tools. Entire communities uprooted themselves and joined what would become the greatest migration their people had ever known.
They called themselves the Nuhlrin.
Drawn by the Call for Balance, they journeyed toward the ancient portals, believing they had been chosen to help heal a world drifting toward catastrophe.
What awaited them beyond was not salvation.
It was betrayal.
As the migration crossed into Rhuna, corruption hidden within the ancient pathways erupted without warning. Portal routes twisted and collapsed. Entire caravans vanished. Families were separated across impossible distances. Countless lives were lost in moments. What should have been a passage between worlds became a disaster remembered forever as the Great Balancing Betrayal.
The survivors emerged scattered and broken.
Worse still, they found themselves stranded within lands already consumed by corruption.
These places would later be known as the Witherlands.
The Witherlands were not merely barren. They were wrong.
Endless fog swallowed the horizon. Blackened earth stretched beyond sight. Twisted stone and skeletal forests rose from landscapes that seemed permanently scarred by chaos. The sky offered neither comfort nor direction. Life struggled to exist. Hope struggled even harder.
It was here that the survivors first encountered Vorakh.
Some called him a demon.
Others believed him to be the Witherlands given form.
Towering beyond mortal scale, Vorakh wandered the endless fog without purpose or destination. He did not attack. He did not command. He merely watched. Wherever despair consumed the weary and the lost abandoned the path, Vorakh was never far away. The Nuhlrin came to know him as the Great Usher.
Yet despite the horrors surrounding them, the migration endured.
Thus began the Long March.
Year after year the survivors pressed onward through the Witherlands. Vanthis defended the caravans against beasts born of corruption. Anmor built roads, shelters, bridges, and camps wherever he could. Meridia carried the Song of Balance forward, reminding the weary why they continued.
Many were lost.
Many surrendered.
Many never lived to see the journey's end.
Still the Nuhlrin marched.
Generations later, the Long March would become the defining symbol of Meridian identity. Their ancestors had crossed darkness not because victory was certain, but because surrender meant extinction. From this lesson emerged one of the oldest truths still taught throughout Meridia:
Keep walking.
Against all odds, the survivors eventually reached lands untouched by corruption.
The fog began to thin.
The earth softened beneath their feet.
Rivers flowed once more.
Grass returned.
For the first time since the Great Betrayal, many saw a horizon free from the shadow of the Witherlands.
There, the Long March finally ended.
The Nuhlrin chose to build.
Under the guidance of Meridia, the protection of Vanthis, and the vision of Anmor, settlements rose across the fertile lands. Roads connected communities. Trade flourished. Fields were cultivated. New generations grew up knowing prosperity instead of fear.
From the ashes of shattered civilizations arose something entirely new.
Meridia.
More than a city.
More than a kingdom.
A nation.
A people forged by hardship and united by shared purpose.
The Nuhlrin placed their faith not in gods or destiny, but in one another. They remembered the darkness they had crossed. They remembered those who had fallen. They remembered the lessons purchased through sacrifice.
And so Meridia endured.
A nation born from the Long March.
A beacon of Balance.
A testament to perseverance.
And a reminder that even in the deepest darkness, there are those willing to keep walking.