“Welcome to the Spire, Rift Hunter!”
“What’s the Spire, you ask? Wow, did you just fall out of a Rift or something? The Spire is the last surviving bastion of civilization here on what we’ve come to call Fracture, a fact that we try not to dwell on. “Fracture” being what’s left of our world after the ancient Cataclysm that tore the very fabric of reality asunder and caused the creation of the Rifts like the one you must have just tumbled through.”
“That left the world a broken, fragile place, hence why we’ve taken to calling it Fracture once we got back to point where we could take the time to actually name anything. Between having to remap what parts of the world remain, salvage what we could out of the rubble, and dealing with creatures and raiders out of time and rioting through the Rifts, fancy names were low on that list of priorities.”
“Oh, you probably don’t know what Rifts are either, even if you probably just tumbled out of one. Rifts are the bits and pieces of alternate version of our world, dropped out through tears in the fabric of reality and surviving in ours for a time, long enough for temporal refugees to escape to the Spire and for bands of Rift Hunters to pick the rubble clean of anything useful.”
“Between the Rifts and the ruins of our own world that were left, we’ve rigged up a pretty little city around the foot of the Spire and climbing its height. Survivors like you, all ready to make the most of what pops out of the Void.”
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