Cosmology

Survivors

A record of those who survived the transition from the fourth world (Earthdawn) into the sixth (Shadowrun). Based on information gathered by the Dunkelzahn Institute for Magical Research.

Dragons

Dragon	Earthdawn Identity	Earthdawn Patron Race	Date of Awakening	Notes
Dunkelzahn	Mountainshadow	Orcs	2012	Assassinated in 2057
Hestaby	Rathorn	Skaven	2048	Allied with Dunkelzahn prior to his death
Lofwyr	Khorne	Centaurs	2012	Sole owner of the Saeder-Krupp AAA megacorp
Alamais	Alamaise	Goblins / Trolls	2019	Suspected of being killed by an orbital laser in 2054, Dunkelzahn's will indicated she's still alive and in hiding
Feuerschwinge	Vasdenjas	Human	2012	Killed by the German military in 2012
Kaltenstein	Vestrivan	Human	2012	Suspected to be King Berthold, the king of the Black Forest Troll Kingdom
Eliohann	Earthroot	Dwarves	2047	Low profile, last seen in 2053
Lung	Aban	T’skrang	2012	An eastern dragon, rumored to be the leader of one or more triads. Involved in the death of Alamais.

Lesser Divinities

Shadowrun Identity	Earthdawn Identity	Notes
General Franklin Yeats	Usun	Born in 1997, he became a highly-decorated UCAS general, retired to the private sector in the early 1940s, then ran in the 2057 presidential election, during which run he was assassinated by insect spirits. An advocate for reclaiming Bug City, the DIMR suspects that his death was intended to prevent his reawakening as Usun.
–	Maelyrra	Suspected to be manipulating the inspect spirits by the DIMR.

Recollection: The History of Creation

The valley leads to a pair of stairs cut into the stone. One, steps higher than a man’s head, each carved with illustrations: on one dryads bathing beneath a waterfall, another a vast cityscape teaming with life, and so on as the stairs rise; each scene unique. The other a plain path set off to the side, made for the mountain’s mortal servants; the only one of the two showing wear. The stairs climb halfway up the volcanic peak to a towering set of double doors. Beyond the doors is an entrance hall in the style of a cathedral, hallways leading to the mountain’s inner chambers separated by illustrated panels stretching to the high, ribbed ceiling; the heat of the volcano seeps through the walls.

The turtle crone, leading the way, flicks one hand in the direction of the illustrations and asks, “How much do you know of the history of creation?” but does not wait for an answer.

The first panel is a jumble of material, color, texture, and shape. Precious metals and gems, brick and clay, fur, bone, and teeth. An inscription below it reads “The World of Chaos.”

“The First World, soon washed away. Not worth much mind.”

The second panel is gold, embedded jewels arrayed in illustrations of varied creatures locked in battle amidst convoluted landscapes: a lizardine wolf entangled in a cephalopods’ arms; an insectile creature impaled on a great horned beast; dragons of every color. The inscription reads “The World of Wonders.”

“The gods placed their power into life: the dragons and other apprentices. ‘Endless creation and creativity,’ to hear them describe it. But one eternal’s creation is another’s abomination and the whole thing got out of hand.”

The third panel is grey slate crossed with glowing light in arcs that evoke an endless pattern in endless variation. “The World of Reason.”

“The Third World. No more fighting. Truth and beauty. This is when much of creation was set in stone. Fire is hot, honey is sweet, this and that make such. A nice break from all those wonders, they say, but not very exciting.”

The fourth panel is silver, cousin to the second, inlayed with jewels, with a single golden disk showing the dawn of a rising sun. Again, scenes of conflict, but here dragons lead vast armies of lesser creatures in the shadow of great cities in the plains, mountains, and skies. “The World of the Demigods.”

The caretaker’s longing for this age is apparent. “The dragons were given another chance. When one fights another there’s chaos. So instead the gods charged them with our creation, of humans and orcs, bullywugs, tabaxi, and all the rest. In the second world, an eternal might make a crystal city in a day, then another smash it on the next. In the fourth world, this would be the work of entire lives, generations of mortals. It was beautiful.”

“In this age, the dragons were to be the sole avatars of the gods. Calmed into a truce with the banishing of their more distant rivals, they banded together to make the mortal races, raised heroes and villains, and carried out the gods’ design for this age.”

She indicates a corner of the illustration, where a band of human figures venture out from a mountain cavern. “The emergence went as planned. The gods, watching from their sanctum in the planar depths. Each dragon with its enclave filled with its chosen people. The mortals, expanding outwards, seeking to claim the new world. And heroes, their mettle sharpened against monstrosities crafted by the gods to test them, leading their people to glory. Stories of rise and fall, triumph and despair. An age of greatness.”

“But the dragons desired a distance from their creations and their mortality. For their personal attendants they made the elves, immortal. Who chaffed at their servitude and meddled beyond their mandate. Who took advantage of their power, cavorted and interbred; and who learned forbidden magic.”

She points at the panel, to a glittering tower rising above a lone island. “The elves secret domain, apart from the eyes of man or dragon. The tower that divided creation and banished the gods.”

The fifth panel is obsidian, pure black, white lines illustrating a progression, a formless void, an explosion, galaxies, stars, planets. A cell, a cluster, a plant, an animal, and at the end of the chain: man. “The World of Death”

“Mankind as the conclusion of a blind process. A world in which nothing as grand as a dragon could survive, but an immortal elf thinly could: warlords, holy men, kings and presidents. Empires of power, without their draconic masters.”

“But as the world was remade the dragons kept a slim hope, that the gods wouldn’t allow the elves their victory forever. And so, in a desperate last resort, they divided themselves. Their bodies would wander the Earth in human form without knowing their true nature. Their memories—of who they were, of what had happened, of the gods themselves—committed to material repositories, buried deep within the mountains. You’ve seen these: the sorcerer used one to snare you. And this place, a pocket space, to house their souls until a world existed that would allow them to be whole.”

The sixth panel is copper illustrated by lines of jewels. A golden sun and a silver moon. “The World of Heroes.”

“The elves proved poor stewards of the world and the natural forces they exulted spun out of control of their material influences. The Earth fell. For dead aeons the world spun in darkness. But with time the god’s awoke, their prison cracked, and they used what strength remained them to reach back and turn creation in a new direction. Again, an emergence. But rather than men into a world of magic, magic into a world of men. And the story after that,” a broad expanse of the copper canvas left incomplete, “yet to be fully inscribed.”

Pointing then to a space beyond the blank expanse, at a few elements, barely sketched in: to a cloaked and hooded figure, “the gods’ avatars arisen;” to a winged person inscribed in silver, “the anti-draconic;” a vast battle, shown only in broad strokes, “the fate of creation undecided.”

She pauses for a moment to gather herself, as if unprepared for the length of her recitation. “But this isn’t what you came here for…” as she leads you down one of the mountains’ passageways.