Born in the darkest hours of the Brother’s War, lost in the depths of Shadow during the dark, and doomed to ghostly interaction with the Prime as it phases in and out of synch with Pangea, the City of Gilead sits at a precipice.
Gilead was founded by dissidents who tried to remain apart from the war the raged between the artificer brothers, Urza and Mishra. Originally viewed as a temporary haven and commune for like minded intellectuals, scholars, and other workers of wonders, the founders went to work, each contributing something to the greater whole. Dereleth laid out the plans for the hidden city, ensuring it was a place of beauty and pragmatism all at once. Haradra ensured that the pleasures of the world would not be left behind, and found a work force that would handle the day to day bother of running a city, leaving the founders and their families and colleagues to enjoy the fruits of their paradise. Syrne brought his genius as an artificer to bear, creating many wonders to amuse and serve the elite, as well as ensuring that the great work of his master, the Planeswalker Rache, would proceed without impediment. Telemu called on the power of Gaea to bring lush life to the hidden place where they built, and laid out plans shared only with his fellow founders to ensure that the descendants they would leave behind would be well suited to rule whatever was left behind. Tindalos brought heat and light, and he brought strength in the form of barbarian warriors from Kjeld who swore their lives to the city of Gilead. Venari brought the mighty works of civilization, stockpiles of medicine, articles of faith to ensure the patronage of the gods, and the rule of law to guide their nascent city. It was Rache, however, who made it all possible, using his great powers to set the machinery of Syrne in motion. As the Orrery of Worlds came to life, the 5000 men, women and children of Gilead, as well as twice that number in kithkin workers, were pulled from Pangea and lost to the mists of time.
Years folded into decades, then centuries, then millennia. The world broke and healed and broke again. And still, Gilead remained lost.
But the city lived on, lost between worlds, a pocket dimension with limitless ambition and no room to grow. Time has passed as swiftly for them as for the world they once called home, and Pangea and it’s mighty magics are but stories to most of the people of Gilead. Where there were once 5,000 humans of privileged station, now there are 10 times that number crowded into a city that groans under such weight. Kithkin slaves serve the six mighty houses the retain the names, if not the visions, of their founders, while the seventh house, that of the Planeswalker Rache, has been relegated to legend, centuries dead at the hands of the other houses in a night of blood and betrayal. Each house plots and plans and schemes, ruling their limited resources with a tight fist while playing politics in the Senatorial halls. The gods are names, their empty power given only hollow faith in these times, as the young scions of the houses scoff at such superstitions. Magic itself is nearly lost, almost exterminated in the murder of the House of Rache.
But the time of convergence is nigh. The houses scheme, each wishing to be the one to rejoin Gilead to the Prime. Who will it be, hero or sinner, villain or visionary.