The Assumed Creation of the Eoanian Islands

Any child living today is told that our world is consists of three massive islands; Rona in the west, Apa in the north, and in the east lies Teran.  Once, a very long time ago these islands were locked together in a single continent that had been ruled by an evil emperor whose name has now been lost to time.  He and his armies of slaves, monsters, and other horrific things to vile to name used dark magic to cover the entire land with ashe so that no man, woman, or child could ever see the sun again.  Despair was felt by all those who tried so hard to keep their families alive, to till their fields, care for their animals, just trying to stay alive.  Despair turned to hatred, and hatred led to revolt.

While the emperor had been sitting on his Obsidian Throne, growing fat and lazy, never leaving his tower, an army had been mustered by the resistance.  Farmers, nobles, and really anyone sick of this tyrannical rule grabbed whatever weapons they could and marched on the castle.  But these men and women were not soldiers, and were outnumbered so heavily that many felt fear grip their hearts.  Yet they marched on, despite the fear, despite the certain defeat, for they knew that if they did not try to make the world better for their children, if they did not stand up to this evil, no one ever would again. 

A tremendous battle took place with the heroes taking massive casualties.  The fighting lasted for hours, with each army shoving the other back.  Despite being so outnumbered, so outmatched, and so outmaneuvered the heroes began to take ground.  Inch by inch they beat the emperor’s army back toward the castle.  As they pushed, no one noticed that the retreating army began to topple three massive pillars, each getting taller the closer they were to the tower.  Once the third fell to the ground there was only silence.  Both armies stopped their retreat and chase.  The ground began to shake as the lone tower that had once stood as a bastion of the evil empire began to sink down deep into the ground.  Our heroes could see the castle continuing to fall deeper and deeper until it stopped with so much force that no one could hold their ground. 

When the tower hit bedrock it shattered the very foundations of our world and shattered the continent in three.  It separated the army into pieces, separating them from their allies and potentially their families.  When the warriors returned to the towns they would tell stories of how their comrades remained on the other lands, and the families of those who did not return looked out everyday, hoping that they might find a way back.

The three islands would eventually come to a halt, a grand ocean now between them.  The cities that had once sworn fealty to their single ruler now took this task upon themselves, refusing to respect the rule of one man.