Welcome to Exandria Unlimited: Calamity. If you were expecting a fun one, you’re not getting one! This is a story of grief, betrayal, loss, and the panic of the coming of a new age, Calamity.

That’s right! We’re doing a prequel series!

We are going to be telling a story of a different age in Exandria, an age long past. Rumors and legends abound of this time period in the world. This is prior to any Vestiges of Divergence. Prior to the coming of the Divine Gate and the departure of the dieties into realms beyond Exandria. You will find no Tal’Dorei in this version of this world. For, indeed, it has not yet received that name. It is known by its Elven name, Gwessar. We journey to an age long ago to tell a story perhaps of a more sorrowful and bitter time. Shadows stalk this world. Come with us, but please only if you dare.

Available for viewing on YouTube and Twitch

Runtime	Break start
5h 22m	2h 42m

Episode 3: Blood and Shadow

If you’re just joining us, we now tell you a tale of a long lost city in the ancient history of Exandria, a city that was long gone by the time of our modern adventures here at Critical Role, BUT…it flew once. How much longer it may fly is up to our wonderful heroes here. To do a quick little ol’ recap:
In our last episode that we left off, strings were brought together as a conspiracy was unlocked. The Ring of Brass, those members of the high society of Avalir who do all the moving and shaking, gathered together at the Feast of Imyr at the Palazzo Por’co and realized something was amiss. Artifacts of the Archmage Vespin Chloras had come aboard. Talking to a young Purvan Suul and putting together clues from a crime scene in a psychometric chamber, we realized Something Most Foul Had Been Attempted. And What’s Worse, It Seems To Have Succeeded.
We also now find ourselves on the eve of The Replenishment, the most significant-- To call it a holiday is almost… It’s every seven years, you know. It’s an incredibly significant, potent magical ritual that the city of Avalir conducts as it lands back on its terrestrial sister city, Cathmoira. There are many important arcane elements of this that our Architect Arcane, Laerryn, has clued us into, but also on this eve of an Apogee Solstice in which the impossible has become possible and Avalir’s crown jewel, the center of its arcane research, the Astral Leywright, an engine that would allow the city to travel, not only across the face of Exandria, but to realms supernal, where a city of mortals might walk as equals to the gods themselves.
We are returning after seeing the Astral Leywright, after attending the Hall of Records at the Herald’s Tome, where we saw evidence of a younger Vespin Chloras, while alive, had spoken of these matters to none other than Lacrytia Hollow and Loras of The Weaver’s Mask.
Our Architect Arcane and our Keeper of Scrolls busted the door down and killed Magister Micah Cormorant in a single round.

“If you’re planning on killing all your PCs, don’t be extra unfair. Run that shit rules as written. That guy would be dead. He’d be dead so fast. You gotta play it as it lays.” -BLeeM (Travis:“Play it as it Lies”)

Our First Knight and Guildmaster of the Golden Scythe went to the Hall of Prophecy, where we discovered that perhaps fewer oracles had gone mad than we otherwise might have thought. Perhaps they were doing exactly as they should, and that the powers that be wished to call it something else.
We had one last interaction between our First Knight and The Lord of the Hells. What that could portend, I cannot say, because what I know is, as our three groups of heroes spoke, they decided to all come back together because the Helmswoman of Avalir, the Guildmaster of the Navigator’s Guild, Akami Rowe, in reporting no problems whatsoever to her direct report, the Architect Arcane, something terrible befell her.
Rushing to the Dawn’s Ledge, you arrived, and in the middle of the street, found Lacrytia Hollow, member of The Ring of Silver, Dean of the Throne of Necromancy, who had, earlier that evening, left a vial of poison as a gift for Patia Por’co, along with a note, reading:
“All things end,” she wrote. “Lives, stories, even ages.”

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