The Calamity was not a "world war" so much as it was a war on the world itself. A normal mortal could be forgiven for running away in despair when they found themselves on ground trod by literal gods bent on destroying each other. There was no hiding place to be found, though, when all of Exandria was a battlefield stalked by divine champions wielding their patrons' gifts and scarred by the magic of inconceivably powerful archmages.
Then came the Divergence. When it ended the war with both the Prime Deities and the Betrayer Gods safely locked away behind the Divine Gate, the devastated survivors began the long process of rebuilding. For some, like the devoted of Sarenrae, it would be a longer road than most. How does the mortal mind even conceive of a goddess dying? How does the flock of such a benevolent being cope with a loss of that magnitude?
Most of them chose to forsake her. History shows very little of her faith in the first centuries after her fall. Many struck her name from their books and razed her temples to the ground. After all, why honor a goddess that could no longer hear them?
Some clung to their faith, though. For most of them, that meant carrying on in her name. They recommitted themselves to doing good works, bringing light to the dark corners of Exandria, and facing each day while trying to embody the values that the Everlight taught them. They worked diligently, even though they could no longer attract followers to their faith. Devotional charity helped them heal the wounds in their hearts, but it also helped them ignore the empty place in their souls from where their goddess used to speak to them.
A few of her faithful could not ignore that emptiness. They rallied around a new faith. This was a faith that comforted them because it told them that the Everlight was not gone, that Sarenrae had fallen but her divinity and grace could not be extinguished. In the first century Post-Divergence, they began working to emerge from the abyss of war and despair and sought a place to begin anew.
Northvale had, by many accounts, enjoyed a blessed existence since before the Calamity. While it had not been spared from the strife of that age, the location of this small town did afford it a unique chance to bounce back from the devastation.
Sandwiched between Issylra's inland sea and the western ridge of the Sunderpeak mountains, Northvale basked in a unique continental climate. Despite being further north than Vasselheim and blocked from the Ozmit Sea by the twin ridges of the Sunderpeaks, this relatively small strip of land enjoyed seclusion, a comfortably temperate climate and seasonal rains coming off the sea.
Marine trade coming east to Vasselheim or continuing by sea from Shorecomb or Marisfall was accomplished by overland routes through the mountain passes or the Caldera Valley. Many merchants found that this was far easier than attempting to navigate around the entire continent. Northvale, being directly west of one such pass, afforded an easy access point to the trade road that ran down the middle of mountains. As the primary gateway for this route, the town had been granted the luxury of benefiting from the trade without expanding too quickly or uncontrollably.
When the seas were favorable, the town's small fishing fleet adequately supplied their needs. When conditions were poor, they simply relied on dock fees, working as longshoremen, and hiring out as escorts for the trade caravans. All in all, Northvale weathered life, dug themselves out from the rubble of the Divergence, and carried on.
A town cannot live on fish alone though. So, when an upstart sect of the Everlight began building an abbey nearby and offered to supply the town's agricultural needs, they collectively shrugged and went about their lives without protest. Situated at the base of the foothills to the northeast of the town, they were close enough for trade but far enough to maintain their independence.
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The creation of Northvale Abbey was a shrewd decision on the part of these plucky survivors of the fall of Sarenrae. Not only did they take advantage of the area's favorable climate, but their choice of location was particularly insightful. As wet winds blew in from the sea and bashed against the mountains, the air would offload its moisture onto the peaks and the foothills. This precipitation, combined with the melt coming off the middle elevations, washed a bounty of nutrients into the soil below every year.
The clerics of Northvale Abbey quickly established themselves as premier green thumbs. Within the first year, they were supplying the town of Northvale with a variety of fruits, vegetables, grains, medicinal plants, and even decorative species. The sheer diversity of this bounty was enough to attract greater trade to the town, whose residents were happy to resell their surplus to visiting merchants.
Despite offering their produce at a suitably pious discount, the abbey was easily able to fund itself and construct new additions. They expanded their fields and orchards, built greenhouses, and even raised a hospital on their grounds to tend to the sick and injured of the town. Before long, the clerics were considered the aloof but beloved healers, midwives, grocers, counselors, and friends of Northvale.
As their fortunes and holdings grew, they began to employ citizens of the town to help them tend the gardens and fields. Their symbiosis had become fully realized and enmeshed them into the fabric of Northvale. When the people began bringing them lost or abandoned children, orphans of the turbulent period who wandered along with the trade caravans, the clerics realized they had an even greater calling to answer. They built an orphanage and accepted any foundling brought to them.
Their success allowed them to do all of this and still fulfill their tithing to their leadership.
Northvale Abbey became the unsung breadbasket of their burgeoning church. Unlike many others, this sect refused to succumb to despair and forsake their goddess. Their determination attracted followers, and with followers came power.
Power does not come without a cost, though. In a world turned upside down by a war between primordial forces and omnipotent deities, that cost can come in unexpected forms. For these followers of the goddess of redemption, it came subtly.
It began as a rallying cry to those who felt adrift in the vacuum left by Sarenrae's defeat at the hands of Asmodeus. Comfort comes from safety and in the chaotic aftermath of the cataclysm, safety meant strength. The scattered worshippers of the goddess began to coalesce under the banner of those who had a clear vision for how they would restore her influence.
They would fight back. They offered the scared and the wounded a vision of a blessed army that would hold back the corruption of the Nine Hells. Their commitment to use any means necessary was not advertised...but strongly implied. Their zeal attracted more followers to their base of power high in the frozen north. Deep in the Thorain tundra, they consolidated their power in a fortress-cathedral cut from the living mountains. Safe, protected, and fed by their subordinate abbeys like Northvale, they set about determining just how they would fulfill the promises they had made. Secrecy became paramount, they were already viewed with suspicion by outsiders who believed that their 'miracles' were not evidence of the Everlight but of a corruption masquerading as faith. It quickly became obvious that surviving while also prosecuting a war against the Nine Hells would truly require 'any means necessary', and so they sought to harness rare and even dark magics to power their cause.
Once that line had been crossed, it was a simple moral step to also enlist the practitioners of the rarest of dark magic.
Once that line had been crossed, it was an even simpler moral step to begin conscripting those same practitioners. After all, who was more deserving of the Everlight's infinite forgiveness than those who were tainted by darkness and yet laid down their lives to combat darkness?
Rather than being seen as a perversion of the light, the traumatized holy warriors embraced this practice as a clear sign of virtue's triumph over evil. They knew that their methods were questionable at best, but they were committed to holding the line. They alone would stand guard between the darkness and the huddled masses.
They would be the guardians of the twilight.
They would be the Gloamwardens.