In a cataclysm known as the Nightfall, the worlds were almost completely destroyed by a harrowing surge of darkness.
In the shadows of the ensuing chaos a new group has taken shape. Led by an Aegyl named Kalos, the 11th Hour touts an esoteric knowledge of how to combat the darkness and restore the worlds. They might be the worlds’ best chance at survival; but nobody really knows enough about them to confirm or deny their claims.
On the brink of collapse, the universe holds its breath in anticipation. Of restoration? Of destruction? It is up to individuals like yourself to decide.
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The air still smelled softly of the misty rain that had just recently cleared from the city. Grey clouds were beginning to open up to reveal the twilight sky beyond. The eventide began showing the first few stars through the thinning veil of clouds. Even with the background noise of conversations in the airship building, the occasional chatter of the Chocobo in the rental stall, and the general bustle of activity at the heart of Gridania behind him, this lively world seemed restful. It was a stark difference to the propensity of tension that loomed over Twilight Town: a nice break from the ever-dreary.
He held a small Osmosis Amulet between his finger and thumb, holding the crystal to the light and admiring its gloomy, blackish-blue window into the soft evening light that shined through it. He wondered if there were others like the resilient breed from Twilight Town. What sort of character was inborn, perhaps untapped, in this world’s inhabitants? He’d figured that perhaps, after witnessing the show at the amphitheatre tonight, he might just indulge in levying a few more worthy souls to his cause. The Eleventh Hour's work was never done, after all. Despite how serene the change of scenery had been.
Thoughts over the possibilities this new world had to offer - and the innate obstacles of something new - entertained his mind, and although there was no visible reaction, Kalos was rather enticed at the idea of seeking out even more of those worthy toward his cause. Still holding up the masterfully crafted little bauble, Iolite eyes thinned on the beautiful little trinket.
