Battel wasn’t born of conquest, nor forged in the fires of ambition. It coalesced from a resonance, a vibrational anomaly within the Fabric itself – the very weave of existence. Before there was land, before there were stars, there was only the hum, and within that hum, Battel began to stir. It wasn’t a being in the traditional sense, more like a pattern, a cascade of probabilities given form. The first inhabitants, the Sylvans, were not creatures of flesh and blood, but echoes of this initial resonance, beings of pure light and sound, capable of manipulating the Fabric with a touch.
The Sylvans believed themselves to be guardians, stewards of the Fabric. They sculpted landscapes with beams of color, wove constellations with melodies, and communicated through symphonies that rippled across the dimensions.
Their civilization was built on harmony, on the principle that every action, every thought, had a corresponding echo that would eventually return. This philosophy dictated their art, their architecture, and their very existence. However, this harmony was fragile, susceptible to the dissonances that inevitably arose from the chaotic nature of existence.
The arrival of the Kryll marked a turning point. The Kryll were not born of the Fabric, but rather, they were fragments – literally shattered pieces of a forgotten god, a being of immense power who had attempted to unravel the Fabric for his own amusement. Their purpose was simple: to corrupt, to break, to introduce entropy into the system. They didn't fight; they subtly influenced, whispering seeds of doubt, amplifying the inherent disharmony within the Sylvans. The Sylvans, initially resistant, began to fracture, their light dimming as they succumbed to the Kryll's insidious suggestions.
The landscape itself began to warp, reflecting the internal strife. Rivers flowed uphill, mountains twisted into grotesque shapes, and the sky pulsed with unnatural colors. The once-perfect symphonies devolved into jarring cacophonies. The very Fabric groaned under the strain.
Legend speaks of a 'Song of Severance,' a single, devastating note played by the Kryll’s leader, a creature known only as the 'Null.’ This note didn’t destroy, it simply…unraveled, tearing away entire sections of the Fabric, creating the ‘Rifts’ – tears in reality that spew forth corrupted energy and monstrous beings.
The Sylvans, realizing their folly, attempted to counter the Kryll, but their efforts were hampered by the pervasive corruption. Their light, once a beacon of hope, became a flickering ember, and their symphonies, tormented cries of despair.
Now, only fragments remain. The Sylvans are scattered, existing as echoes within the Rifts, trapped in loops of their final moments. The Kryll continue their work, subtly twisting the Fabric, preparing for the inevitable return of their master. And within the Rifts, whispers persist – the echoes of Battel, a testament to a lost harmony, a warning against the seductive allure of chaos.
Those who dare to venture into the Rifts often speak of seeing glimpses of the ‘True Battel’ – a swirling vortex of color and sound, a place where the laws of reality are fluid, and where the past, present, and future converge. It's a place of immense power, but also immense danger. A place where you might find yourself lost, not just in space, but in time itself.