Guildmast

The destruction of the World Tree came without warning.   At least, that is what the survivors who have since established Guildmast know. Having finished with a long voyage out at sea, the large contingent of adventurers wanted nothing more than the comforts of Guildhall. On their minds, too, was a staticky and almost incomprehensible message they all received from Rhillaine - something something Nathrael? And so, with growing homesickness and trepidation, they leapt through the portal home.   Only, it went terribly wrong. One moment they were on their way back to the Guildhall, and the next... A kaleidoscope of colour, screaming, ripping, the crack of glass on impact, pages whirling in a hurricane of yellow parchment, screaming, a bloodied hand, screaming, SCREAMING...   Then nothing.   They awoke on a beach in a place they’d never seen before.   The ship they had travelled on was beached alongside them, held in place by some mysterious energy. And they all knew one thing in their hearts: the World Tree, and by extension the Guild, was no more.   All that was left of their beloved home was each other, and a somewhat-ethereal, deadened sapling erupting from the deck of the wrecked ship.   In the weeks following, these survivors have built up a shanty town around their ship, known to some as Guildmast. Small voyages to the nearby islands have since been undertaken, with larger expeditions soon on the horizon. Other adventurers have been drawn in, too, either joining those who have ventured out or coming of their own accord. Those who remember the Old Guild watch these developments with an excitement tinged bittersweet, seeing the hints of old friends in new faces as this batch of adventurers build this Little Warrior Adventurer’s Guild into something exciting