There was a time before. A time of heroes and epic challenges. A time of gods. A time of strife and scarcity. A time when those most honed by hardship were both created by, and subsequently created, the world around them. A time when nations eyed each other with suspicion. A time when the word sat the at the razors edge of peace or mayhem. A time when the best of us rose up, and the worst challenged for a small slice of remaining resources.

These are not those times, although they are not so far past the memory has entirely faded. Today, no vandals stalk in the night, no hungry mouth goes unfed, no unspeakable act of past ages bears consideration save for the knowledge of what men may do when put to the test. This is an age of plenty, if not of knowledge, of at least the calm which allows families to look to the future with hope and optimism.

This age belongs to one man. A man many said was blessed by the gods themselves to provide the shining future we have today. A man who, single-handedly, ceased centuries of want, secured abundance for all, and in doing so allowed for a peace and security across the known world in ways not breathed as possible before. A man of the people. A man of the world. If rumors be true, maybe not even a man at all.

I speak, of course, of ‣.

We all know Fizz Wigglebottom, a genius inventor and architect of the Age of Plenty (AP). But humor me for a second. What was he like before Demonstration Day? What was the world like?

Many wish the Fizz came from humble origins, pulled himself up from his bootstraps, and created an invention that would change the course of history. That would be a convenient trope, but nothing is farther from the truth. Fizz was the only son and heir to Rizz Wigglebottom, a man of some renown but most known for marrying the fabulously wealthy Casanda Jiggletop, heiress to the Jiggletop fortune. While his parents were often absent, they were never cruel, and provided Rizz with any and everything money could buy. And my friends, money can buy a LOT.

Another lovely trope would be Rizz was a sickly boy, finding comfort in books and scrolls to pass his idle time away. Again, not so. Rizz was the image of a strapping, handsome young adventurer. When his parents did return to their estate, they often found Rizz exploring the expansive grounds when he was younger, or entirely absent as he grew. Rizz loved nothing more than exploration, the thrill of discovery, and the hunt for the unknown. All that visit Kantaris Museum know of Rizz’s many amazing discoveries and the spoils of his countless expeditions. Indeed, many believe The Museum was the reason Rizz formulated his Relativity, Extra-Planar, Aeather Configuration Hypothesis, or REACH, which we all know is the foundation for his world altering invention, the Dimensional Aggregator and Reality Traversal Schematic - DARTS

Back then, Kantaris was a world on the brink. Overpopulated, under-resourced, with nations and peoples all too ready to jettison what little semblance of civilization remained to secure the dwindling resources of a dying world where those at the top took what they could and those under them suffered what they must. A world where even the most optimistic measured futures in decades, not centuries or millennia. Where selling your labor was preferred, but selling your body (or parts of it) was far more common. A world where historians advised dictators of supposed deeds long since past to plan future or condone present attocities, and zoologists and botanists became paleontologists out of necessity. A world past the brink, and simply waiting for permission to fall fully into the void.

As Rizz traveled the this broken world, collecting priceless artifacts and encountering both ancient and newfound mysteries, he eventually came upon a problem. Even with his immense wealth and privilege, at a certain point, especially as the rot and decay of all things spread throughout the realms, there would be nothing left to explore, nothing new to discover, no summit to conquer or species to name. That did not sit will with Rizz, so he came up with a plan. If this world eventually had nothing left to offer, well then he would just have to find new worlds to explore.

With his beloved parent’s long since passed, Rizz had resources many countries envied, and he turned that fortune to a singular focus - opening up new worlds for exploration and discovery. He hired the world’s greatest thinkers, inventors, and mages. Most lived and worked on his estate trying to crack the problem. Years, passed, then decades, with nothing to show for it. Those that left lamented the once dashing adventurer was growing more and more secluded, his fortunes dwindling and his hopes fading. Rizz, once a major face in philanthropy and society, appeared less frequently, composed himself less outlandishly, and spoke more quietly as time went on. His friends, gently at first but more urgently before the demonstration, begged him to relent. And Rizz, gently at first, then more urgently, rebuffed them time and time again, saying simply he was close. When the last scholar, ‣, left Fizz’s now dilapidated manor, most assumed his story had come to a close. As that fall turned to winter, then to spring and summer, no one went to, or came from, the estate. The gates were shut and locked, the cracked walls filled with mortar, and shimmering magical bubble surrounded the grounds. Those that traveled past the estate did so hurriedly, shaking their heads and mourning for what might had been save for Fizz’s obsession.

Of course, that all changed on Demonstration Day

On the last day of the era before, what we now celebrate as Demonstration Day, messengers were sent far and wide with a simple request. Any who wished, from the lords of great nations to the lowliest street urchin, were invited to the Wigglebottom estate for an event to be held that evening. A sizable, but not overwhelming crowd arrived, with many noting the paucity of seating and lack of refreshments. The grounds were parched and fallow, the infrastructure dilapidated. As the crowd mingled uneasily, the evening progressed, a full moon rising high into the sky. As the crowd grew increasingly restless, with some guests leaving altogether, a light appeared in the manor window. Slowly, the creaking great doors opened, and Fizz descended the crumbling stairs to a ramshackle podium. He was dressed in faded finery, with visible holes and stains in his attire, with some reports indicating a … distinctive … aroma emanated from Fizz.

At the podium, Fizz stood upon a rickety stool, and waved for the crowd to settle and quiet themselves. On the podium, Fizz placed a small, simple wooden box with a big read button. When the initial commotion of his appearance abated, Fizz took out a small piece of paper, and through flickering candlelight, began to read.

“Friends, well wishers, gawkers and haters. I welcome you to my home. Thank you for coming.” He then gestured around the grounds of the manor, continuing “As you can see, I have been too busy for certain niceties, such as landscaping and catering service.” He chuckled, continuing, “At least the weather cooperated. Well, I wont bore you and prattle on about the hows and whys of my last few years. Suffice it to say, I believe I solved it, and I am ready to share this with you, and the world. I have always found that seeing is believing, and there will be so very much to see, and yet more to believe, very shortly. I have one simple request. Please, close your eyes.”

Fizz pressed the button, and the world changed forever.

The chill of the night air vanished, replaced with pleasant warmth from the three suns shining brightly in the purple sky. While portions of the dusty and parched manor grounds remained, forming a perfect circle centered around Fizz, the crowd gasped seeing a lavishly laid out set of tables and chairs, laden with food and drink, covered by fine linen canopy set atop lush green grass stretching miles in every direction. The trill of birdsong filled the air, the buzz of insects unknown, and the gentle sound of wind rustling through impossibly high trees. Some in the crowd fainted immediately, others screamed or began laughing hysterically. Reports indicate the rotund Mayor of Greatfalls made immediately for the lavish buffet, a claim he later denied.

When the commotion died down and the crowd regained their senses, Fizz again strode up to the podium, a bit more pep in his step, and through a mouthful of dark red berries the size of an apple, Fizz again addressed the crowd. “So, as you may have surmised, we aren't in Kantaris anyone. In fact, I have no idea where we are, and I’d wager no one other than the gods themselves do. Now don’t worry, I will get us all home, safe and sound. But I wanted you to see this first hand, not to show you a new world, but to tell you this is not my first excursion beyond our realm. Nor is it the second, third, hundredth, or thousandth. Indeed, I have lost count of the number of new worlds I have stepped foot upon, however briefly. Each unique in its geography and history. However, after much trial and error, I have honed my DARTS to hone in on worlds which share certain similarities with our own. The air will be breathable (that was a hard lesson to learn the first time). The water potable, the food edible, and surprisingly, the language common. Amazingly, even narrowing down by these criteria, I never encountered the same world, time, or peoples twice. Never. And I have been doing this a long, long time.

And this is my gift to you, and to all. Worlds upon worlds. Unexplored, unexploited, ripe for adventure and exploration. The discoveries and treasures of these worlds can be used to prevent further spoliation of our beloved Kantaris, and hopefully in time, restore our world to its former glory. Of course, these worlds can be dangerous, filled with monsters and perils both known and unknowable. It will take brave adventurers with a knack for discovery, a heart for exploration, and the willingness to fight. Many will find new worlds only for these far flung places to serve only as their grave marker. This is unfortunate, but inevitable. There can be no growth without some loss, there can be no restitution without some dissolution, no progress without some cessation. To those brave enough to take upon the mantle of adventurer, I salute you. Had I this opportunity countless decades ago, I would have fought my way to the front of any line for this opportunity.

But thankfully for you, this will not require a lottery, nor a feat of strength to prove your might. No, to endeavor into brave new words, we require only the spirit of adventure, the will to power, inquisitive minds, and fearless companions. And, of course, a small fee.” Fizz shurgs, his diminished frame enveloped in too large clothing, “I seek only to recoup my capital costs. The Tithing Guild shall handle the specifics.” He takes a deep breath of air untasted by any before him, turns to his audience, and says “So, whose ready to go home, and who is ready to invest?”

But that’s why you are here, isn’t it? You’ve finally scrounged up enough money for your own DART. Your own chance to change your fortune, contribute to the rebuilding of Kantaris, and make your mark on the ledger of history, or die trying. Excellent. Assemble your crew, I advise you determine your commission structure beforehand, and take a seat as your Steward from the Tithing Guild awaits to instruct you into the lucrative, dangerous, exciting, and oddly beaurcatic realm of the Worlds Without End. Good luck.