On the day of the Seraph Awakening, we awoke in a crumbling ruin beneath an ominous, glowing crystal. Many rose that day, and many fell just as quickly. Yet among the chaos, a handful of Seraphs—whether out of desperation or shared vision—banded together.
A single thought echoed in our minds: Go south. The land we stood upon would not shelter us from the brutal winter ahead. Was it divine intervention? A fractured memory? We did not know, but we followed the call.
Through rolling plains, vast lakes, and towering mountains, we traveled. Some were lost to hunger, beasts, or the relentless passage of time. But as the land changed, from harsh desert to lush valleys, we found it—our promised land, nestled between two mountains.
Then we understood. The deity we glimpsed in our visions was not a mirage, but a presence woven into the world itself. The Temporal Storm was not an omen, but a force of revelation. A truth the ungeared mind could not yet comprehend.
And so we built.
We founded Velkirk, a town where the faithful and the lost alike could seek understanding. A place to embrace the storm, not fear it. To stand beneath shifting skies and feel the presence of our god—whether you call him Dave, the Holy Geared One, or something else entirely.
Velkirk is more than a town. It is a beacon. A testament. A step closer to the divine.
