TEXT: 1
  Dungeon Crawl Classics #35
  Gazetteer of the Known Realms
  Contents
  Introduction  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .2
  Chapter 1: The Northlands  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .3
  Chapter 2: The Southlands . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .43
  Chapter 3: The Lostlands  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .64
  Chapter 4: Geographic Features  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .81
  Chapter 5: Organizations  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .100
  Chapter 6: Beyond the Known Realms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .111
  Chapter 7: History of the Northlands . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .113
  www.goodmangames.com
  
  T
  he grimoire you hold in your hands first surfaced
  in America more than one hundred years ago.
  Discovered in the ruins of the Great Chicago Fire
  of 1871, the tome made its way from collector to collec-
  tor and finally to the good Doctor S_________ W____,
  who—knowing my interest in bibliotic obscurities—
  entrusted the tome to me for translation.
  Upon inspection, the first thing one notices about the
  tome is its smell: musty incense, wood smoke, and oiled
  steel. Bound in splitting leather and scarred with runes,
  the cover conjures visions of the ceaseless march of the
  ages.
  Between those thick covers are several hundred hand-
  written pages, each inked and illuminated in dyes and
  pigments that bear little resemblance to any known by
  modern bibliophiles. Sadly, the bulk of the tome has been
  damaged beyond recognition or is simply untranslatable.
  But from the scattered passages, a determined researcher
  may infer this much:
  The codex is the work of a handful of unidentified
  scriveners or monks, living during what might be termed
  a Dark Age—a time of marauding savages, unknown
  powers, and desperate heroes. By collecting the sum of
  their knowledge into a single work, the
  tome, these scribes hoped to stave
  off the press of darkness and
  barbarism. 
  Whether or not their
  gambit was success-
  ful, and if they
  a c c o m p l i s h e d
  with pen and ink
  what sword and
  spear could not,
  will likely never
  be known.
  The codex is sev-
  enth in a work of
  twenty-one volumes,
  and serves as catalog for the later volumes and a brief
  gazetteer of what the scribes refers to as the Umbris
  Mundus. The first term, “shadow,” certainly refers to the
  threats that plagued their civilization. The second trans-
  lates to “world,” but whether the scribes intended
  “world” as we understand it, or “continent,” or simply
  “the lands of our lord-liege,” remains unclear.
  Similarly, a thousand other priceless historical details,
  deemed too trivial or universally understood to record,
  remain lost, waiting for future scholars to coax them
  from the mists of antiquity. Given the absence of accurate
  maps, it remains for the reader to decide if the codex is a
  pre-history of our world, or an inexplicable shadow-echo
  of another, unnamed realm.
  We have done our best to present this translation of the
  tome in its original context, without attempting to con-
  ceal its flaws. I encourage the good readers to fill in the
  gaps with their own reasoning and logic, so that the
  world of the scribes might live on in their imaginations—
  and perhaps stave off the darkness a bit longer. 
  Harley Stroh
  Curator of Esoteric Collections
  Chicago, 2006
  2
  Introduction
  
  T
  he nations of the Northlands are steeped in
  eldritch history, and are often—quite literally—
  built upon the ruins of those that came before
  them. The mightiest citadels stand on the ruins of
  dwarfholds, holy sanctums are built atop fallen rings of
  druidic stones, and loggers harvest timber from fae-
  haunted glades. Every spring a farmer uncovers new
  ruins beneath his fields, often warded in dead languages
  unknown to modern sages. The past is the North’s con-
  stant companion, dark-cowled and mysterious, revealing
  tales of high sorcery, heroism, and slumbering horrors at
  her leisure.
  A careful study of these ruins, and of the scrolls and
  tomes brought back by explorers, reveals that the kings
  of men are not the first to rule the Northlands. Some leg-
  ends speak of ancient races and gods familiar to scholars,
  while others whisper of foul cults and forbidden powers.
  Sages debate these epochs endlessly, but all can agree
  that the current age is rightly called the Reign of Man.
  Whether by mortal ambition or some mystic turning of
  the cosmos, the power of the Gods has waned, permitting
  the rise of heroes, and granting men, elves, dwarves, and
  the wee-folk the freedom to fashion their own destinies. 
  This waning has also ushered in a new host of threats and
  dangers. The marauding armies of the Scourgelands
  threaten the heart of the civilized world, barbarians raid
  with greater frequency each spring thaw, and shrieking
  comets tumble from the night sky; witches, seers, and
  astrologers alike presage a time of coming darkness.
  It remains to be seen whether this is a prelude to an age
  of prosperity and peace, or an end to humanity’s reign.
  Climate and Seasons
  The Northlands encompass ecologies ranging from the
  temperate grasslands and vales of Crieste to the inhos-
  pitable wastes of the north. Climates and seasons are
  dependent largely on latitude and precipitation, with cer-
  tain marked exceptions due to geographic and magical
  anomalies. 
  The Criestine Empire and the other nations adjacent to
  the Lirean Sea enjoy mild summers, brief winters, and
  long springs and autumns. Dense stands of deciduous
  hardwoods offer sturdy beams for shipbuilding, while
  fertile soils provide abundant crops and grasslands for
  cattle and sheep.
  Moving north, the climate grows steadily cooler, reflect-
  ed by a marked hardiness in the people and beasts. The
  Warlands, renowned for their wealth of natural resources,
  expect deep winters with heavy snowfall and months of
  isolation. The summers, unmitigated by the cooling
  Lirean Sea, can be equally severe, and times of hardship
  force farmers to augment their crops and herds with wild
  game. The deciduous forests slowly give way to primeval
  coniferous stands and the mighty Ashwood groves. 
  East, across the vast ranges of the Ul Dominor
  Mountains, are the Mirdar-Luminar Steppes. The little
  moisture that reaches the steppes is brought by raging
  storms that sweep down from Hoarfrost Bay. In years of
  drought, the steppes become a vast tinderbox, and wild-
  fires rage up and down the high prairie, tainting the air
  for hundreds of leagues in every direction and shading
  the sunsets the color of spilled blood.
  North of both the Mirdar-Luminar Steppes and the
  Warlands are endless swaths of high tundra, gnarled oak,
  and icy wastes. Here the temperature retreats below
  freezing every night of the year, and savage beasts swarm
  the land. While hunters, outlaws, and hermits choose to
  make their home in the forbidding wastes, they are the
  exception, not the rule.
  Timekeeping and
  Celestial Bodies
  The Emperor of Crieste, in his divine wisdom, deter-
  mines all units of measurement, including the span of the
  days, months, and years. Following the end of the
  Interregnum, the empire adopted a sidereal calendar of
  365 days, but many of the smaller nations hold to the
  older lunar calendar.
  3
  Chapter 1
  The Northlands
  
  Every nation and religion celebrates a host of holy days
  throughout the year, and travelers can expect to
  encounter any number of festivals and feasts as they trav-
  el the North. While universal celebrations are rare, the
  following holidays are common to all cultures:
  Swordfall: Spring in the Northlands is the season of war.
  Foes abound, and even nations of common cause have
  reason to settle border disputes with blade and lance.
  Swordfall is observed on the Spring Equinox, marking
  the customary beginning of the war season, when roads
  are passable and the weather tenable. Swordfall is tradi-
  tionally celebrated with martial tournaments and tests of
  courage, but just as often the holiday heralds a full-scale
  invasion, presaging a season of rapine, fire, and death.
  Day of Fates: Celebrated on Summer Solstice, the Day
  of Fates is the culmination of a weeklong celebration
  honoring patron deities and local saints. On the last day
  of the week, newborns are named, couples renew their
  vows of love, and oaths to lord and liege are declared
  anew. It is a common practice for knights to embark on
  quests on this holiday, and it is deemed a blessed day for
  wizards to choose apprentices. Adventuring companies
  often choose this day to make their first vows of brother-
  hood. 
  Harvestmoon: Falling on the full moon closest to the
  Autumn Equinox, Harvestmoon is a celebration of
  thanksgiving and preparation for the winter ahead. The
  dead are honored with tributes of wine and sweetmeats,
  and priests go from house to house offering blessings in
  return for the same. The revels stretch from moonrise to
  moonfall and lively celebrations are believed to ward off
  winter’s chill. 
  Forge Feast: Observed on the Winter Solstice, Forge
  Feast celebrates the rebirth of the year, when hearth fires
  are relit from the forges of village smithies; woe is the
  smith who has let his forge fire die. The day culminates
  in an exchange of gifts, and a single enormous feast with
  every member of the community bringing an offering to
  the table. 
  4
  
  Empires, Kingdoms, Fiefs,
  and City-States
  What follows is a catalog of the empires, kingdoms, free-
  states, and principalities of the Northlands. The noted
  populations are only rough estimates; the actual figures
  fluctuate wildly with the seasonal depredations of war,
  plagues, and other acts of the Gods. This catalog is by
  necessity incomplete: towns, hamlets, and even some
  cities were passed over due to incomplete records and
  cartographical disputes. Local lords and elders should be
  always consulted before the beginning of any journey. 
  At first glance, the Known Realms might appear to be a
  patchwork of nations covering every league of Áereth,
  but veteran explorers know better. Each nation’s borders
  extend only as far as its lord’s ability to enforce his rule,
  leaving vast swaths of borderlands given over to roaming
  bands of escaped slaves and serfs, violent outlaws, mon-
  strous humanoids, and far worse. Passage between
  nations without armed escort is attempted only by the
  bold or desperate.
  The majority of Northlanders live in simple villages and
  hamlets, earning their livelihood by farming, herding,
  and hunting. The average farmer passes his entire life
  without traveling more than twenty miles from his home-
  stead. Cities and towns are essential hubs of trade,
  defense, and religion. Any time a city is sacked by
  marauding hordes, the surrounding lands suffer.
  Similarly, the cities rely on outlying farms to provide the
  enormous amounts of grain, vegetables, fruits, and meats
  necessary to support their swollen populations. A prince
  that punishes his people with high taxes and refuses to
  defend them in times of distress quickly discovers how
  difficult it is to maintain a cavalry without grain, or arm
  his knights without iron.
  Exceptions to this rule are plentiful, and benign despots
  are few and far between. In the hostile realms of the
  North, civilization is best thought of as a curious anom-
  aly in a long history of savagery and barbarism.
  Cinai
  (Vale of the Blood Hunt)
  Thane of the Blooded,
  Ashir the Maul 
  Population: 569,601 (humans 75%, dwarves 10%, half-
  elves 4%, gnomes 3%, halflings 4%, elves 2%, other 2%)
  Resources: Furs, mercenaries, raw wool, leather, timber
  Capital: Marzakol
  T
  he wind-scoured hills and dark forests of the Cinai
  Highlands breed fierce warriors and deadly mon-
  sters. With the constant threat of the Scourge and
  the fierce hill trolls that are native to the Highlands, life
  in the Vale is often short and always violent. 
  The people of Cinai are forged in the fire of violence and
  tempered in the blood of their foes, hence their chosen
  name, the Blooded. Centuries of conflict have made them
  hardy in battle, quick to fight and slow to forgive insult.
  Dark and coarse of hair, their sun-weathered skin runs
  from olive to rich brown. Commoners dress in rough
  homespun cloth, while warriors and priests wear the pelts
  of the mighty northern great cats and dire wolves.
  While considered savages by most civilized people, the
  Blooded’s most valued possession is their honor—as
  anyone accusing them of deceit quickly learns. The folk
  of Cinai believe that life is a fleeting experience, but that
  the legends and stories told after death are eternal.
  War is a way of life for the Blooded. Every boy and girl
  learns to use a sling by the age of five, and the study of
  sword and bow are quick to follow. While most warriors
  are unkempt barbarians, the most esteemed warriors
  gather in one of three Orders, the warrior fellowships that
  give the Vale its fierce reputation.
  The Order of the Lion is comprised of holy warriors who
  charge into battle atop the shaggy steppe ponies; the
  Lions are renowned for fighting with lances, shortbows,
  and wickedly curved axes feared for their razor edges and
  lethal blows.
  The warriors of the Raven are recognized as fearless
  rangers and scouts, fighting in the rocky highlands and
  dense forests with ease, striking from the shadows like
  ghosts.
  Last of all is the Order of the Wolf: a collection of tire-
  less foot soldiers sworn to victory or death. Tales hold
  that, in the course of a single night, a troop of Wolves can
  run dozens of miles in full armor and fight in the morn-
  5
  
  ing, as if they had spent the night sleeping in their homes. 
  Warriors of the Blooded record their victories in blued,
  runic tattoos. After years of battle, the tattoos evolve into
  sprawling works of art that cover a warrior’s entire torso.
  The hordes of Blooded—dirty, wild-eyed and tattooed—
  inspire terror in the bravest knight, and send lesser men
  scattering to the four winds.
  Fortunately for the civilized lands, the Blooded’s favored
  enemies are the monstrous humanoids of the
  Scourgelands. Every spring the Orders can be found on
  the Mirdar-Luminar Steppes, frothing at the mouth, beat-
  ing their axes against their wooden shields, calling the
  orcs and ogres to battle.
  The armies of the Cinai follow a fearsome warrior of
  near-divine might: Ashir the Maul. A legend amongst his
  people, Ashir embodies all the virtues of a Cinai warrior.
  Strong, brave, and cunning, the Maul is fearless in battle
  and terrible in his wrath. Ashir’s throne is found in the
  primitive city of Marzakol, but he holds court on the field
  of battle. Like the warriors serving in his hordes, the mas-
  ter of the Blooded is most at home in the heat of combat,
  howling in triumph as he cuts a swathe of death and
  destruction through his foes.
  The majority of the Cinai people live in simple sod huts
  scattered about the lonely highlands, and spend their days
  herding shaggy sheep and the highland cattle. The
  nation’s cities, if they can be called such, are often no
  more than haphazard collections of tents and crude cab-
  ins and lodges. 
  Marzakol: (Large town, pop. 4,299) The capital of Cinai
  is built atop the ruins of an ancient dwarven city. Granite
  blocks form crude walls, raven-picked ogre skulls adorn
  tall pikes, and smoky fires from the town’s many forges
  are visible for miles in every direction. Despite its simple
  defenses and coveted location, it has never fallen to for-
  eign armies.
  Ashir the Maul, Thane of the Cinai, rules the highlands
  from atop a low hill in the center of the city. Numerous
  trophies of fallen foes adorn his feasting hall and sur-
  round his throne: broken shields from fallen knights,
  shattered skulls from every sort of beast and demon, sun-
  dered swords and splintered lances. From here he plots
  new ways to bring terror to his foes, and honor to his peo-
  ple. Such plans invariably include battle.
  The city is also home to dozens of smithies. The forge
  fires burn at every hour of the day, transforming the dark
  dwarven ore into razor-tipped spears and bright shields.
  Arms and armor forged in Marzakol bear distinctive
  markings, a blue-gray patina visible only in starlight. The
  origin of these markings is a mystery to even the smiths,
  but sages are quick to note that Marzakol is dwarven for
  Starfall.
  Iderag: (Small city, pop. 6,902) It is fitting that Cinai’s
  greatest city exists only one season out of the year. At the
  end of summer, merchants brave the fierce highlands,
  bringing a year’s worth of trade goods, dried fruit, and
  coveted foreign spices. The merchants flock to the
  Fartrader River, and raise a city of tents, bringing trade
  goods to the Cinai herdsmen and hunters.
  With the southern merchants come a host of southern
  vices. Thievery is rife, as are fights over foreign women.
  Quick-tongued merchants can make a fortune over the
  course of a few weeks, but at the first hint of winter’s
  chill, the merchants flee south, and Iderag vanishes as
  quickly as it appeared.
  Namana: (Village, pop. 640) Namana is home to the
  Order of Lions, the fierce war band that serves as Cinai’s
  medium cavalry. At first glance, the village is unassum-
  ing; for all the legends attributed to the Lions, the village
  is deceptively small. This is because at any time the bulk
  of the Order is roaming the highlands, patrolling the bor-
  der or watching the herds of shaggy steppe ponies. 
  Those riding into the small village will find only aging
  men and women and young babes in arms. The men and
  women are the band’s elders and shamans, while the
  babes are those too young to ride on their own. The eld-
  ers nourish the children on pony milk and war stories,
  and as soon as children can ride they rejoin their parents
  on the high steppe.
  Hali: (Small town, pop. 1,372) Concealed in a glacier
  6
  
  valley, high in the southern Ul Dominor Mountains, the
  fastness of Hali is the home to the Order of the Ravens.
  Like its scouts and rangers, the stronghold is difficult to
  find and harder to reach. A visitor to the mountain fast-
  ness is met with an entourage of solemn warriors long
  before he draws within a dozen miles of the valley. The
  sight of silent watchers silhouetted atop the sheer canyon
  walls unnerves even the stoutest soldier. 
  Those passing the tests of the Ravens meet with a quiet
  woman of undeterminable age. If rumors are to be
  believed, this nameless woman is one of the most accom-
  plished assassins in all of the Northlands. Such tales are
  surely nothing more than idle speculation, the spurious
  work of feeble minds.
  Kursan, Chanshi, and Qumarli: (Small castles, pop.
  averaging 1,000) The leadership of the Order of the Wolf
  is divided between three nearly identical citadels. Easily
  recognized by their colossal central tower and concentric
  rings of ditches and simple wooden walls, each fastness
  is capable of disgorging a roaring horde of Wolf warriors.
  The three fortresses are spaced evenly across the high-
  lands, shouldering the responsibility of the nation’s
  defense.
  Each citadel is governed by a council of thanes drawn
  from the highest echelons of the Order. Their roundtable
  decisions, made by howling warriors bearing terrible
  weapons, are things of legend. But once a consensus is
  reached, and the Wolves are mobilized, little can stand in
  their path.
  Crieste, Empire of
  His Divine Eminence, the
  Rampaging Lion, Immortal
  Emperor of Crieste 
  Population: 3,209,000 (humans 59%, half-elves 11%,
  halflings 7%, dwarves 7%, elves 5%, half-orcs 5%,
  gnomes 4%, other 2%) 
  Resources: Silver, foodstuffs, trade goods, livestock 
  Capital: Archbridge (during Summer Court), Kassantia
  (during Winter Court) 
  O
  ldest of the western nations, and arguably the
  most powerful, the Empire of Crieste once dom-
  inated the North. Its vast holdings, built atop the
  moss-covered ruins of the Nimorian Empire, have them-
  selves fallen into ruin; once again fierce monsters roam
  the wild, travel between the towns and cities is seldom
  undertaken without escort, and sellswords and warcasters
  are in great demand. 
  The reach of Crieste once extended from the Mirdar
  Forest, east to Hoarfrost Bay, and south past the golden
  sands of the Ghetrian Desert. But with the disappearance
  of Emperor Oststad, the empire passed into the
  Interregnum: three hundred years of internal feuding that
  culminated in the secession of the Southern Province.
  Other kingdoms and principalities were quick to follow,
  eagerly making their bids for freedom.
  Hoping to stem the tide of seceding states, the lord-
  barons displayed a rare moment of consensus and elect-
  ed a seven-year-old boy to sit upon the Dragonskull
  Throne. Now ten years of age, the Child-Emperor rules
  according to the dictates of his vizier, Lady Mortianna,
  who ensures that the child remains “untroubled” by the
  onus of empire. The child will assume full powers upon
  his fifteenth birthday, but until that day it is Mortianna
  and her coterie of power-hungry barons who direct deca-
  dent Crieste.
  Thankfully, the Child-Emperor is served by Captain
  Sentri, Master of the Sable March and General of the
  Seven Armies. Sentri embodies all the virtues of chival-
  ry, swearing loyalty to the Emperor while spurning the
  lord-barons. This often places the captain in the danger-
  ous role of commanding the armies to obey the Vizier’s
  orders, while sending agents of the Sable March on mis-
  sions to counter the same. Thus far the captain has suc-
  cessfully countered the worst of Mortianna’s schemes,
  but as the Emperor draws nearer to his Rite of
  Ascendancy, Sentri’s gambit grows steadily more dan-
  gerous.
  Crieste is celebrated for the honor and nobility of its
  knights, and no knighthood captures the spirit of galantry
  better than the Order of the Sable March. Stories of the
  knights defending mountain passes against the press of
  giants, single-handedly defeating hordes of demons, and
  sacrificing their lives for the common man are almost too
  improbable to be true, but this doesn’t stop the younger
  squires from striving to emulate the tales. Many squires
  die in the pursuit of impossible ideals, but those who sur-
  vive go on to become legendary warriors without peer.
  The Knights of the Sable March can be recognized by
  their coat of arms: a black background pierced by three
  silver stars. The background signifies the darkness that
  threatens humanity and Crieste; the stars signify the three
  tenets of the order: honor, duty and courage. The Knights
  of the Sable March are quartered in the fortress known as
  the Citadel, in the city of Archbridge, but can be seen reg-
  ularly patrolling the farthest reaches of the empire and its
  neighbors, fighting injustice and carrying out secret mis-
  sions on behalf of Captain Sentri and the throne.
  Even more secretive than their armored brothers are the
  wizards and sorcerers belonging to the shadowy cabal
  known as the Ordo Arcana. Rumor holds that the spell-
  7
  
  casters meet on every full moon, wearing elaborate
  masks to conceal their identities. The aims of the Ordo
  Arcana, and the reasons for their intense secrecy, remain
  unknown, but a masked sorceress has been spotted leav-
  ing a clandestine meeting with Captain Sentri on more
  than one occasion. It comes as no surprise that that the
  Ordo Arcana makes its headquarters in the magic-laden
  city of Kassantia, but seekers would do well to inquire
  discreetly before attempting to enter the tower known as
  the Howling Fane.
  Despite the chaos of the Interregnum and the greed of its
  lord-barons, the Criestine Empire retains much of its for-
  mer greatness. Until the secession of the Southern
  Province, all trade passing through the Lirean Sea had to
  stop at a Crieste port, filling the empire’s coffers to burst-
  ing. Crieste maintains strong ties with the Steel Overlord
  (see Holdfast of the Steel Overlord) and benefits greatly
  from trade with its dwarf allies. Relations with the Fae
  Lords are much cooler; during the Interregnum, northern
  kingdoms aggressively expanded their domains, sparking
  conflicts between human foresters and elven scouts.
  Abroad, the empire’s colonies continue to offer their annu-
  al tribute, and none dare to challenge the Imperial Navy.
  At present, both the Empire of Crieste and the Southern
  Province lay claim to the Dragonskull Throne of
  Kassantia, and the scions of both nations aver to be the
  true Son of Heaven. So long as the two emperors fight for
  the same throne, the empire’s outlying kingdoms will
  continue to exercise their independence, growing
  stronger with each passing season. Within one hundred
  years, the mightiest human empire the world has ever
  known may be nothing but a memory.
  The empire recognizes nearly a thousand settlements,
  ranging from small hamlets to the greatest cities of the
  north. Following is a brief list of Crieste’s more notable
  towns and cities: 
  Archbridge: (Metropolis, pop. 48,250) Also known as
  “Summerhold,” Archbridge is home to the summer impe-
  rial court. The city also houses the Imperial Army and
  their chief rivals, the Order of the Sable March. One of
  the great cities of the Northlands, Archbridge is governed
  by Crieste’s warrior class, men and women famed for
  their honor and martial pride. Status in the Imperial Army
  is determined by nobility of birth, while in the Sable
  March, rank is accorded by honor and bravery in the
  defense of good. It follows then that the Army and the
  Knights of the Sable March are bitter rivals, each striving
  to outdo the other on the field of battle. Too often these
  tensions boil over, resulting in deadly back-alley duels
  and running street battles. Officially, the generals of the
  Army and the Sable March refuse to condone the duels,
  but high-level commanders can be often seen returning to
  their barracks late at night, sporting bloody wounds and
  ferocious grins.
  Many aspiring young warriors make pilgrimages to the
  city, hoping to join the ranks of the fabled March or the
  Imperial Army. Those that fail quickly find their way to
  the city’s taverns and gambling dens, where they nurse
  their wounded pride with liquor and brawling. It is said
  that Archbridge is a city of warrior-lords, but this only
  partially true; for every true knight, there are a dozen pre-
  tenders hoping to catch the Emperor’s eye.
  The majestic city is built atop the ruins of a previous
  acropolis, and Archbridge’s vast undercity is notorious
  for its ancient passageways, forgotten tombs, and secret
  corridors. The Imperial Army sends regular expeditions
  into the undercity, but few return. 
  Axebury: (Hamlet, pop. 125) A sleepy hamlet founded
  on the southern edge of Mosswood, the folk of Axebury
  make their living harvesting timber for the dark glades.
  Recent expeditions into the heart of the wood have
  uncovered peculiar standing stones of ancient origin.
  Whether the stones are baleful or blessed has yet to be
  discovered.
  Blihai: (Small town, pop. 16,801) A vibrant fishing town
  with a deep natural harbor and easy access to old growth
  forests, Blihai also serves as the western staging area for
  the Imperial Navy. Seamen are highly regarded in Blihai,
  and those with little or no deck experience are often dis-
  missed as “greens.” With a rotating pool of over one
  thousand sailors and marines, Blihai has grown notorious
  for its rollicking nightlife, and—in times of war—its sea
  captains’ practice of “enlisting” drunks into the
  Emperor’s navy. 
  8
  
  Carnelloe: (Large thorp, pop. 86) Isolated from major
  trade routes and battered by frequent storms, this lonely
  costal hamlet is often dismissed by imperial mapmakers.
  Carnelloe (Elvish for “desolate place”) is noteworthy
  only for its proximity to Gurnard’s Head, a rocky spire
  that served as a strategic landmark in the early days of
  Crieste. The solemn tower atop the spire was hard put
  during the Siege of Sorrows, and has since fallen into
  ruin.
  Dhavosin: (Large town, pop. 4,014) Known to merchant
  lords as the Crossroads of the Empire, Dhavosin hosts a
  steady stream of caravans and traveling traders. In the
  peak of autumn the town hosts Candlemeet, a festival and
  bazaar drawing farmers and craftsfolk from across the
  empire. The population swells to over 10,000 souls, the
  tent city spilling past the town walls and onto the outly-
  ing grasslands. During the heady, month-long festival,
  people of every creed and color meet to drink, gamble,
  and barter, and entire fortunes are won or lost overnight.
  Swarthy southern merchants mingle with dwarf traders
  offering crates of gleaming weapons fresh from Holdfast
  forges, while Kassantian mages shop for exotic spell
  components and trade secrets with the elves.
  Dundraville: (Village, pop. 452) Overlooking the shores
  of Lake Dundrae, Dundraville is a sleepy village of fish-
  ermen and farmers. Local features of geographic note
  include a ring of druidic standing stones, and a peculiar
  rock formation known as Skulltop Hillock.
  The Graves: (Small city, pop. 11,901) Officially known
  as Sirael Citadel, the prison island of Crieste is better
  known as the Isle of Many Graves, or simply the Graves.
  When Criestine criminals are judged too vile to be
  redeemed, they are placed on a ship and sent to Sirael
  Citadel. Few ever return.
  The prison is administrated by a grim warlock known as
  the Maelidoch. It is whispered that the Maelidoch is
  guilty of his own crimes and that his service as master of
  the island is part of a cruel sentence. It is also rumored
  that the dark wizard performs experiments on his wards;
  those few who do return from the Graves report torment-
  ed screams ringing from the prison dungeons, screams
  that resemble the screech of metal on metal more than the
  cries of flesh-and-blood humans.
  In the years since its creation, Sireal Citadel has grown to
  encompass the entire island. Prisoners constantly labor
  on the citadel, building its towers ever higher and digging
  its dungeons ever deeper. The currently citadel is a maze
  of old and new construction, with half-finished towers
  and passageways leading nowhere; the purpose of the
  completed citadel—and if it is even intended to be com-
  pleted—is known only to the Maelidoch.
  Hadler’s Gap: (Hamlet, pop. 253) The northernmost
  reach of the fallen empire, Hadler’s Gap is a collection of
  small farms nestled amongst the Urkallan Hills. To the
  west, a forbidding, craggy mountain rises from the grassy
  hills. Local legend holds that the mountain was the fan-
  tastic result of an ancient duel between warring arcanists,
  and passing merchants aver to the unnatural aura that
  haunts those living in the shadow of the mountain.
  High Cross: (Small castle, pop. 910) Raised at the junc-
  ture of two royal tradeways, and overlooking the
  sparkling waters of the Blade Reach, the stronghold of
  High Cross wards the empire from monsters making their
  way up from the Great Swamp and southern Ul Dominor
  Mountains. On occasion, beasts threaten the castle itself,
  and many prominent weaponsmiths and armorers work
  forges inside the castle walls. Captains of the watch con-
  stantly seek to recruit would-be-heroes, as the strong-
  hold’s outriders suffer high casualties in their defense of
  the empire.
  Kassantia: (Metropolis, pop. 62,870) In all of the
  Northlands, the city of Kassantia is second in size only to
  Punjar, and second to none in eldritch grandeur. Home to
  the Winter Palace of the Emperor, the prestigious Royal
  Academy of Sorcery, and the mysterious Ordo Arcana,
  the city is rightly said to be the Gem of Crieste.
  Wondrous sights and sounds abound in the city’s shops,
  archmages can be seen arriving astride pegasi and enor-
  mous rocs, and the brightly armored knights of the Sable
  March patrol the well-cobbled streets.
  Kassantia is also the home and destination of the imperi-
  al tribute fleet. Twice each year the fleet sails into port,
  bearing gold and exotic wonders tithed by the empire’s
  far-flung colonies. While the fleet generally takes six
  months to complete one circuit, the precise timing and
  arrival of the fleet is one of the empire’s most carefully
  guarded secrets. Only once has a treasure ship ever fall-
  en to piracy: to the fell pirate Bloody Jack. Jack’s success
  has inspired many a knave to dream of cutting galleys
  from the gold-laden fleet, and the shipping lanes leading
  to Kassantia are littered with sunken pirate vessels.
  Sainfoin: (Village, pop. 620) Hidden deep within the
  Warderwood, the village of Sainfoin is renowned for its
  rangers and woodsmen. Ruled—if such a word could be
  used—by an ancient druid, the citizens of Sainfoin refuse
  to swear fealty to the Criestine Empire. The dense groves
  of Warderwood are highly prized by shipbuilders, and the
  woodsmen of Sainfoin often find themselves in skirmish-
  es with lumberjacks sent by the Imperial Navy. Elves and
  half-elves are common in Sainfoin, and respected as
  equals by the humans.
  Silverton: (Large thorp, pop. 76) A small mining village
  perched high in the mountains north of the Fangs,
  Silverton’s livelihood depends entirely upon the plentiful
  9
  
  silver mines that dot the rocky hillsides. Regular Miner’s
  Guild caravans make their way through the deep canyons to
  Archbridge, and caravan guards are always in high demand.
  Sparport Watch: (Small town, pop. 1,380) A towering
  citadel straddling a rocky ridge, Sparport surveys the
  land and sea for miles in every direction. The lord-baron,
  Izod the Shark, has been tasked with taming the pirates of
  the Wreckers. And yet—to the Emperor’s disappointment
  and Izod’s bitter chagrin—for every pirate crew he
  hangs, another two ships seem to spring from the sea
  itself. Responding to veiled threats from the court, Izod
  has redoubled his efforts, swearing to hang the crew of
  any ship, pirate or otherwise, that he finds sailing the
  Wreckers.
  Soulgrave: While squarely within Crieste territory, the
  city of Soulgrave is claimed by no nation. See Soulgrave,
  Free City of for more information. 
  Tarrasine: (Large city, pop. 24,021) The city of
  Tarrasine is Crieste’s chief port on the Lirean Sea. Built
  atop a low-lying swamp, the city has grown into a chaot-
  ic sprawl of docks, taverns, sinking towers, and smug-
  glers’ dives. While such a rowdy city might seem impos-
  sible to rule, Lord-Baron and Harbormaster Deor
  Cuthwilf thrives on the chaos. An iron-fisted ox, Lord
  Cuthwilf can be found on the docks nearly every day,
  meeting with ship captains and merchant princes. Those
  who cross him are quick to feel his wrath, and many cap-
  tains pay tithes directly to Cuthwilf to stay in his good
  graces. Tarrasine smugglers are likewise expected to
  tithe, and the city walls are ringed with crow cages hold-
  ing the skeletons of those who failed to pay. Lord
  Cuthwilf retains the Crimson Hawks, a small army of
  depraved thugs and henchmen, to enforce his rule. Well
  armed and universally feared, the Hawks enjoy unques-
  tioned authority in the city streets.
  Vaquerea: (Small city, pop. 8,110) Vaquerea is famous
  for its horse breeders and trainers, and is home to the
  fabled warhorses of Parelor. Intelligent, fearless, and
  unmatched in battle, the mighty warhorses are the exclu-
  sive steeds of the Knights of the Sable March. The citi-
  zens of Vaquerea are friendly but proud folk, with an
  obscene love of bargaining.
  Vernaut: (Small city, pop. 11,680) A city of craftspeople
  and silversmiths, Vernaut is unusual for its high popula-
  tion of gnomes and half-elves. Ruled by Lady Imaril, a
  benevolent and fair governess, Vernaut enjoys the pros-
  perity and peace that eludes much of the Northlands. In
  recent years, that peace has been troubled by savage raids
  from the Isle of Nos Caen. The raiders push ashore in the
  dark of night, sacking and pillaging with animal fury,
  before hauling women and children back to their savage
  isle. The people of Vernaut have pled their case before
  the Emperor, but his eminence has yet to commit a force
  capable of quelling the raiders. 
  Wicheath: (Village, pop. 460) Isolated from much of the
  empire, Wicheath is a lonely whaling village, ruled by a
  circle of matriarchs informally known as the Council of
  Crones. For reasons unknown to sages and scholars, the
  young girls of Wichheath are often highly talented sor-
  ceresses. Moreover, every seventh year a truly gifted
  child is born, one with the power to warp magic as
  weavers pull thread. These girls are quickly ushered
  away to the ancestral caves that dot the barren coastline,
  and tutored in the ancient ways of the crones. The crones
  of Wicheath have no tolerance for explorers and adven-
  turers eager to plumb the depths of this mystery, and
  between their hardy menfolk and the formidable magics
  of the crones themselves, interlopers seldom stay long. 
  Elraydia
  The Sestet
  Population: 27,643 (humans 56%, half-elves 13%, elves
  10%, halflings 5%, dwarves 4%, half-orcs 3%, maenads
  3%, monstrous humanoids 3%, dromites 3%)
  Resources: ?
  Capital: The City of Elraydia
  I
  n a world prolific with magic, the less understood arts
  are often beheld with fear and mistrust. Those possess-
  ing psionic talent usually hide their powers from pub-
  lic view or disguise them as magic. In many lands, organ-
  ized witch hunts, usually led by paranoid spellcasters
  unwilling to tolerate what they cannot understand or con-
  trol, slaughter and imprison psionic-using people. For mil-
  lennia, the persecution of their talents drove such individ-
  uals and even entire bloodlines into isolation or constant
  flight. Existing on the fringes of society, or hidden within
  it, these psychic people could find no enduring solace.
  A mere two hundred years ago, six powerful human
  psions shared the dream of a haven for their “kind.”
  These men and women, each a master of one of the six
  psionic disciplines, went to extraordinary lengths to real-
  ize this dream. Committing great acts of good and evil,
  they became notorious outlaws across the Northlands,
  wanted by kings, high priests, and archwizards for their
  crimes. Yet their efforts were not in vain, for at last they
  found a remote, barren valley in the Nyfall Mountains
  and there made their home, laying the first stones of
  Elraydia for the generations to come. Having erased all
  knowledge of the vale from records across the nations
  and assassinating all those who could reveal it, they had
  secured their new home.
  10
  
  Having discovered in their quest the secrets of psychic
  rebirth, they were free to retire their old lives.
  Transforming themselves into elans, they purged their
  memories of their former lives, crimes, all their power,
  and even their names—but not their goal. They began
  anew as the peaceful elders of young Elraydia. In the
  span of a few decades, the small community became a
  city and the six slowly regained the power they once
  held. Now they focused their power to preserve their
  beloved home and guard its people. Elraydia has
  remained safe for many years, the knowledge of its exis-
  tence reduced to a myth in the Northlands. 
  As large as any of Crieste’s civilized metropolises,
  Elraydia’s architecture is a wonder to behold. The build-
  ings and towers, wrought by the stonemasons of several
  races, have been shaped and reinforced with the powers
  of metacreativity. Its outer walls form a great hexagon at
  the center of the valley. The majority of the city’s build-
  ings comprise Low Raydia, the residential and market
  districts. At the center of the city, rising nearly one hun-
  dred feet above Low Raydia, is the plateau district of
  High Raydia. This great pedestal houses the governmen-
  tal buildings, major temples, and at its very heart, the
  Mindspire. Fresh water is drawn up telekinetically from
  a subterranean river through the plateau itself and issues
  from the rock face on each of six sides of the hexagonal
  plateau.  Since their redirection overland, these rivers
  have invigorated the valley’s flora and fauna. Among the
  cobbled streets and glittering spires of Elraydia, many
  races live in relative harmony; the common humanoid
  races mingle freely with half-giants, maenads, and
  dromites. While psionic-using creatures make up the
  majority of the population, other peoples seeking refuge
  from persecution have been welcomed as well and now
  make up a large portion of Elraydian society. 
  The six great mountains that enclose the valley form a
  natural barrier to hide the city, but within them the con-
  certed efforts of some of Áereth’s most powerful psions
  protect it from scrying, remote viewing, and even aerial
  scrutiny. The weather itself has been tamed for agricul-
  ture and the forests and plains of the valley floor have
  become rich with game since the inception of the six
  Elraydian rivers. Though winters are longer here than in
  more temperate lands, the valley does not share the mer-
  ciless cold of the surrounding mountains.
  Elraydia is ruled by the gentle administrations of the
  Sestet, the governing council of which only four of the
  original six seats remain. Day-to-day affairs are handled
  loosely by a confederacy of district lords known as the
  Low Vibration. Serving the Low Vibration is the
  Reaching, a militia of soulknives who act as the city
  watch. All serious matters and judgments defer to the
  High Vibration, comprised of the Masters of the Sestet
  and their select advisor-confidants, anonymous citizens
  selected randomly from month to month. It is said that, in
  time, every citizen will be called upon to advise the
  Masters. Based out of the Mindspire, the Masters of the
  Sestet meet frequently and discuss the present and future
  concerns of Elraydia. A tower hewn of solid crystal, the
  Mindspire slowly shifts its color based on the Sestet’s
  disposition, though few in the city can interpret this phe-
  nomenon.
  Each of the Masters is one of the Elraydia’s founding
  psions, elans whose collective power ensures the city’s
  continued existence. Having given up their former lives
  and identities, the Masters of the Sestet live for Elraydia
  first, protecting their dream made manifest. Though they
  appear as middle-aged men and women, as elans they are
  effectively immortal, growing slightly more aloof with
  the passage of years as their humanity slowly dissolves.
  The Master of Images, youngest of the red-haired
  Masters, is an imaginative shaper whose powers of
  metacreativity have sculpted and honed the defenses of
  the city since its birth. The Master of Time is a seer of
  seeming omniscience whose far-sighted powers help find
  those in need of Elraydia’s aid. The Master of Light, a
  peerless kineticist, finds and apprehends those threats
  that do penetrate the valley’s defenses. The Master of
  Soul is a nomad who serves as the headmistress of the
  city’s education system, teaching that while flesh is tran-
  sient, the soul is immortal. 
  Ten years ago, the Masters of Sight and Life were slain
  in a deadly insurgence that nearly ended Elraydia.
  Though the threat was quelled, the city lost two of its
  Masters. The others of the Sestet have been searching for
  new candidates to the office, but so far no worthy
  claimants have been found. Of great concern is the
  Master of Sight, whose considerable powers of telepathy
  are needed to maintain vigilance on the hearts and minds
  of Elraydia’s people—and to keep it free from treasonous
  minds. The Master of Life served as a healer and protec-
  tor of the city, and her death has left a void felt by all.
  Because of its seclusion, Elraydia is necessarily self-suf-
  ficient, drawing from the resources of the now-verdant
  woodlands and the neighboring mountains. Only rarely
  do the Masters of the Sestet consent to trade with other
  realms, and each occasion is a celebrated event in itself.
  Trade caravans, heavily armed and psionically protected,
  are willing to travel far to secure supplies that the valley
  cannot yield.
  Elraydia, an idea as much as it is a place, is a city of tol-
  erance and learning. It opens its arms to those in need
  that the Masters deem worthy, usually psionic-using
  creatures running from persecution but often any group
  suffering from the tyranny of ignorance. The Master of
  Time sponsors the Wanderers, an organization that trav-
  11
  
  els abroad, disguised as humble pilgrims or wayfaring
  gypsies, whose only goal is to find psionic-using crea-
  tures and invite them to the safety of Elraydia. At any
  given time, four or five caravans of Wanderers roam the
  Northlands in search of their psionic kin. Once brought to
  the edge of the valley, they must swear to Elraydia’s
  secrecy. Leaving Elraydia is not as simple, however, and
  all who would depart must meet approval by the Masters
  of Time and Sight—and many will have their memory of
  its location purged from their minds. With the recent loss
  of the Master of Sight, Elraydia’s security is now threat-
  ened. Rumors exist that already news of the valley’s exis-
  tence has begun to spread among the Northlands, gradu-
  ating from myth to legend.
  All citizens of Elraydia look forward to a time they call
  the Awakening, a future when the city-state has grown
  large enough to declare itself to the other nations of the
  world and will be too strong to overcome. The
  Awakening is the collective life goal of the Sestet, trans-
  forming their city into an open beacon to psionic-using
  creatures the world over.
  Elven Nations, the
  Various leaders
  Population: 2,510,800 (elves 65%, half-elves 14%,
  halflings 12%, gnomes 5%, humans 3%, dwarves 1%)
  Resources: Timber, furs, magic items, wine, herbs 
  Capital: —
  T
  he primeval groves, shadowed glades, and misty
  vales of the western forests are the uncontested
  realm of the Fae Lords. With leaders who are wise
  beyond all learning, yet who rule with the capricious
  hearts of children, the Elven Nations are synonymous
  with magical might and woodland lore.
  Much to the dismay of the kings of man, there is no single
  ruler of the elfin folk. At best, the nations resemble a col-
  lection of independent city-states, each with its own gover-
  nance and temperment. Ahuman prince might take pains to
  secure permission to harvest wood from a particular forest,
  only to discover that the groves fall under the rule of not
  one, but several fae communities. This fundamental differ-
  ence has fed racial tensions and resulted in the bloody
  clashes that taint human and fae relations to this day.
  Elven communities are always found amongst natural
  wonders of unmatched beauty, but most commonly in the
  boughs of great Ashwood trees. Those who have seen
  these aboreal cities return telling tales of majestic manors
  built several hundred feet above the forest floor, graceful
  arches spanning the boughs, and floating globes that light
  up the night like arcane fireflies.
  While not a leader in the human sense of the word, each
  nation has a designated queen, a noble elf whose spirit
  has been bound to an ancestor tree by arcane rites as old
  as the elven race. By accepting the binding, the queen
  willingly gives up a portion of her soul to the ancestor
  tree; in return, her senses are broadened to include all the
  animals and natural spirits in her domain. A bound queen
  is essentially immortal, serving as an ageless councilor
  and matriarchal advisor. Legend holds that every thou-
  sand years or so a queen will voluntarily resign her post
  and sever her bond with the ancestor tree; this separation
  inevitably results in the death of the queen. The queen
  and her ancestral tree are always protected by an elite
  guard of warrior-mages, elves who have sworn their lives
  to the defense of their queen and the ancestor tree.
  More so than the realms of man or dwarf clans, the elven
  nations are autonomous and self-sufficient. They main-
  tain cool ties with the Holdfast of the Steel Overlord,
  trading fine woods for metal ore and gems. Similarly, the
  elves’ festive, joyous nature comes to an abrupt end
  whenever their forests are invaded by human woodsmen.
  Sadly, while the elven armies rival the dwarves’ for their
  skill and training, they are inevitably overwhelmed by
  sheer numbers of their enemies. Nation after nation has
  fallen to the press of axe-wielding settlers, who trample
  faerie rings and other mystical sites of incalculable worth
  in their lust for the precious lumber.
  While elves of some sort are found in nearly every wood-
  land, few are organized into true nations. Following is a
  list of the recognized realms of elvenkind. Note that with
  certain exceptions, these are the names adopted by the
  human realms. Elven cartographers should refer to the
  original fae notes for accurate naming.
  Amn’crith Forest: (Pop. 12,800) The elves of the
  Amn’crith forest make their homes in the tops of great
  Ashwood trees, traveling between them via a network of
  delicate suspension bridges that sway in the wind, or
  astride great rocs. A hardy, independent gathering of
  clans, the Amn’crith elves have suffered less at the hands
  of man, and enjoy peaceful relations with the Barony of
  Moran. The Amn’crith elves are masters of archery, and
  practiced at raining arrows down upon their foes from the
  backs of their swift rocs.
  Anseur Forest: (Pop. 23,079) The elves of the Anseur
  are renowned throughout the Northlands for two attrib-
  utes: their mastery of the arcane arts, and their passionate
  adherence to an ancient code of honor. They pride them-
  selves as the keepers of traditional fae culture; corre-
  spondingly they place a high worth on arcane lore and
  eldritch mastery.
  12
  
  Every aspect of Anseur life is keyed to the progress of
  constellations, obscure ley lines, and the march of the sun
  and moons. Though this devotion has made the Anseur
  elves solemn and haughty, it is rightly said that only the
  druids rival their understanding of the cosmos.
  Unlike their cousins in the Corsan and Mirdar Forests,
  the Anseur elves have enjoyed several centuries of unin-
  terrupted peace. Other than the usual woodland monsters
  and human encroachments, the Anseur elves have been
  left largely undisturbed. Recent incursions of frost and
  hill giants have threatened this stability, however, and if
  the elves cling to their illusion of permanence, the king-
  dom of Anseur could fall.
  Blackbriar Wood: (Pop. 1,209) The elves of Blackbriar
  are a cheerful, good-humored folk, given to lighthearted
  revelry. The elves maintain close ties with the mages of
  Kassantia, and enjoy great influence in the imperial
  court, having fought alongside the imperial forces in the
  Criestine Colonies. The elves’ valor and courage won
  them respect of the barons, and a lasting presence in the
  colonies. Their ruby wine is popular amongst the lord-
  barons of Crieste, and gnome traders regularly leave the
  Blackbriar Wood, their badger-drawn wagons laden with
  wax-sealed jugs.
  Despite the elves’ welcoming nature, they refuse to allow
  outsiders within a copse of trees known as the Elder Vale.
  Those who have stepped inside the dappled glades report
  a darksome sump that radiates an icy chill on even the
  warmest of days. What lies at the heart of the forbidding
  sump—and its relationship with the elves of
  Blackbriar—is a mystery.
  Cairnswild: (Pop. 3,901) Named for the profusion of
  barrows that dot the wood, the elves of Cairnswild are
  watchful and ever vigilant, wary of newcomers, but
  appreciative of warriors with strong sword arms and cler-
  ics who are quick with a prayer. They are under constant
  threat by marauding undead and worse, and centuries of
  conflict have welded them into hardened warbands. The
  elves of Cairnswild understand the importance of each
  member of the community; if a single elf falls, the loss is
  felt by all.
  Corsan Forest: (Pop. 42,729) Ancient Corsan, home to
  the longest reigning queen of all the elven nations, is
  unequaled in matters of arcane lore. With her sister-
  nation—the Barony of Koranth—to the north, Corsan
  anchors the forces of good in the east. The Corsan armies
  suffered greatly defending Koranth and Leherti against
  the Scourge, and when the forces of Leherti crumbled
  before the rampaging host, the elven warbands were the
  last to withdraw.
  Since the fall of Leherti, the elves of Corsan have been
  less willing to enter the affairs of man. Many of the elves
  that were in favor of siding with the humans died in bat-
  tle, and have since been replaced with their less tolerant
  kith. Given the elves’ long lives, it will likely be many
  decades before the elves of Corsan answer the call of the
  outside world again.
  Despite their reclusive nature, the elves of Corsan
  embody the best attributes of elvenkind. They carry
  themselves with the quiet nobility of solemn pines, move
  with the grace of majestic stags, and live their lives
  steeped in the innate magic of the fae. The elves of the
  Corsan watch the cycles of the universe with the
  patience, knowing their time will come again.
  Crystalmeet Wood: ( –, Pop. ???) Once a northern bas-
  tion of fae might, the nation of Crystalmeet has seeming-
  ly been laid low by an unknown power. The elves of
  Crystalmeet now stalk the diseased glades as cursed
  undead. The few brave souls who have traveled to
  Crystalmeet and returned report having seen mockeries
  of elven courts, complete with the corpses of elves
  adorned in rotting finery, rusting arms, and foul rites to
  aberrant gods. See the entry for Crystalmeet Wood in
  Chapter 4.
  Mirdar Forest: (Pop. 64,091) Last of the great forests,
  the Mirdar was once home to Arovarel, mightiest of the
  elven cities. Arovarel fell in a single night to the com-
  bined might of orcish hordes and drow armies, led by
  Chalychia, a scheming drow sorceress. One year later,
  Chalychia was defeated, but the elven folk of Arovarel
  never resettled their ancient city.
  Now the Mirdar Forest is ruled by two elven nations with
  13
  
  radically divergent beliefs, though humans and dwarves
  struggle to tell the two apart. The folk of Olheim are
  watchful stewards of the woods, keepers of Arovarel’s
  lost lore. Wise in the wild ways, slow to anger, but terri-
  ble in their wrath, the elves of Olheim maintain friendly
  relations with the other races.
  Conversely, the folk of the Ashoch nation are dedicated
  to ridding the wood of non-elves. Painting their faces in
  somber hues of blue and violet, they stalk the game trails,
  intent on driving out all foreigners. Rangers and archers,
  the Ashoch clans can be recognized by the black fletch-
  ing of their arrows and the razor sharpness of their arrow-
  heads. Often, among the dense glades of the Mirdar, that
  is the only warning given. 
  Both the Olheim and the Ashoch follow their own sover-
  eigns, and neither nation has sought to discover what
  came of Arovarel’s old queen. Whether the ethereal
  queen still lives among the ruins of her city, or if she was
  driven mad or slain in the battle with Chalychia, remains
  but one of the many mysteries hidden by the shadows of
  Mirdar.
  Myrwych Forest: (Pop. 6,823) The northern swath of
  the Myrwych is home to the Horrors of Zamon (see
  Wastes of Zamon for more information), tormented
  beasts twisted by magic that run howling through the
  darksome glades. Once, before the arrival of Zamon, the
  woods were ruled by clans of wild elves. The barest rem-
  nant of the old clans remains, struggling to hold the south
  against the rampaging horrors. The elves of Myrwych
  lost their queen and their ancestral holdings decades ago,
  and now fight as scattered half-clans, fierce with passion,
  but too divided to hold their own against superior num-
  bers. 
  Freeholds, the
  (the Outlaw Territories)
  Various warlords 
  Population: 42,601 (humans 65%, half-orcs 19%,
  dwarves 6%, elves 5%, monstrous humanoids 4%, half-
  ings 1%)
  Resources: Mercenaries, leather, furs
  Capital: —
  A
  loose collection of brigand enclaves ruled by
  brutal warlords, the Freehold badlands are in a
  constant state of lawlessness and unrest. The fall
  of Leherti swelled the ranks of the bandit lords, but thus
  far the Freeholds have limited themselves to raiding car-
  avans and outlying settlements of nearby lands. They’re
  plentiful enough to form a fearsome army, but without a
  charismatic figure to guide them, the brigands are noth-
  ing more than bands of disorganized raiders and poorly
  armed militias.
  What passes for a city or town in the Freeholds is often
  nothing more than a filthy stronghold at the back of a box
  canyon, atop a ridge, or in some other place with natural
  defenses. Most strongholds sport wooden walls atop
  earthen ramparts, while the rare fort might be found with-
  in the decaying stone walls of a previous fortress.
  Invariably, each stronghold has one (or more) mead halls
  and taverns, a smithy and armorer, a corral, and a well-
  defended tower or keep.
  The quality of arms and armor carried by Freehold ruffi-
  ans depends entirely upon the success of their raids. The
  lowliest of bands wear piecemeal bits of scavenged
  armor and fight with improvised polearms. The more
  successful bands field mounted raiders wearing ringmail
  or boiled leather, and fight with bows and well-forged
  spears. Bandit leaders are unique, armed as fortune and
  chance permits. 
  With little in the way of agriculture, the brigands rely on
  raids into civilized lands to swell their grainaries. In
  times of dire need, the outlaws may turn to hunting and
  foraging, but more often a season of hardship only
  presages a deadlier season of raids. 
  While little can be written about the Freeholds that won’t
  have changed in a fortnight, following is a list of estab-
  lished towns and bandit holds:
  Ashaven: (Hamlet, pop. 381) Shortened from its original
  name Ashe’s Haven, Ashaven is a staging ground for
  many of the raids into Leherti and the Theocracy. The
  14
  
  hamlet had been razed by armies of Leherti on several
  occasions (known locally as “the shaving of Ashaven”),
  but the rogues became masters of escaping into hidden
  cellars and secret bolt holes. The collapse of Leherti has
  granted Ashaven a reprieve, and the community is
  stronger than ever, with new brigands arriving each day.
  Presently the fortified hamlet is ruled by Hadrun the
  Shadowhand, a swarthy skinned warrior-mage hailing
  from the Uru’Nuk Highlands.
  Bald Tower: (Small town, pop. 1,308) The town of Bald
  Tower is built around the base of its namesake: a fear-
  some tower rising from atop a barren ridge. Bald Tower
  is unique among the Freeholds in that it fields its own
  militia, a light cavalry easily recognized by the midnight
  black raven feathers used to decorate their shields and
  arrows.
  The raiders of Bald Tower answer to Cyn Alfwen, a half-
  elf blackguard who once served in the armies of Leherti.
  Witnessing the abject failure of her sovereign, Cyn
  recanted her faith and rode into the Freeholds to forge her
  own destiny. The half-elf still bears a hatred for her old
  life, and the sight of a Lehertian soldier spurs her to mad-
  ness. Apart from this weakness, she serves as a cunning
  ruler, commanding her raiders with martial discipline and
  generously rewarding their success in battle.
  The tower itself is something of a mystery. Prior to Cyn’s
  arrival, the tower was believed to be haunted. Whatever
  pact the blackguard made with the dark inhabitants has
  served her well, for now the tower is home to Cyn and
  her militia. Regular offerings of slaves are made to the
  things beneath the tower, and Cyn uses the threat of the
  tower’s dungeons to keep her troops in line.
  Cragskeep: (Small castle, pop. 562) Perched like a hawk
  atop its high mountain crag, Cragskeep was once a
  monastery devoted to prayer and self-reflection. Now the
  mountain fastness revels in its reputation as the home to
  raiders feared up and down the coast of the Lirean Sea.
  Key to the raiders’ fame are their fearsome black-winged
  hippogriffs. Raised on the cliffs above and below
  Cragskeep, the hippogriffs allow the raiders to strike with
  surprise and impunity, evading pursuit by vanishing into
  the sky. 
  Combined with their nearly unassailable stronghold, the
  bandits of Cragskeep have risen to the status of folk leg-
  ends. The actual Riders of Cragskeep are no better than
  other bandits of the Freeholds, but the fanciful imagin-
  ings of bards ensures that a band of adventurers assaults
  the keep at least twice every year. Invariably, the would-
  be heroes are picked from the rocky climb, falling thou-
  sands of feet to their deaths.
  Cragskeep is ruled by the Kuthot, a mystic theurge of leg-
  endary might. Much is rumored about the Kuthot, but lit-
  tle is known. Even the Riders of Cragskeep seldom
  glimpse their hooded master, giving rise to wild supposi-
  tions that the Kuthot is some extraplanar monster or
  worse. His (Her? Its?) goals and aims remain a mystery
  to all, and given Cragskeep’s defenses, it is unlikely the
  puzzle will be solved any time soon.
  Helsouk: (Large town, pop. 4,904) When brigands raid
  the outlying towns of the Theocracy or Free Cities of
  Leherti, whatever plunder that can’t be eaten, spent, or
  drank eventually makes its way up the Roguewash River
  to Helsouk. A labyrinth of shadowed bazaars, brutal slave
  markets, and sinister shops, Helsouk is recognized across
  the Northlands as a stinking hole of wantonness and vice.
  The town’s demeanor is matched by the depravity of its
  rulers. A triad holds court in the Black Square, an unholy
  sanctuary devoted to exalting the decadence that perme-
  ates the town. On the left throne squats Rimry the Toad,
  a corpulent, filthy man with a love for fresh meat and
  young elves. On the right throne rests Cimos Korfar, a
  monstrously large half-orc with the manners of a savage
  and the mind of a sage. And atop the center throne, look-
  ing down upon the entire hall, perches Eren Fellstaff, a
  small, quiet woman feared throughout the Freeholds for
  her unpredictable fury. Together the three hold Helsouk
  in their merciless, uncaring fist.
  While many brigand bands pass through Helsouk, the
  triad is careful to ensure that none make their home with-
  in. Instead, Korfar maintains a roughshod mercenary
  company made up of murderous brutes and thugs. Fed
  information by Rimry’s network of thieves, beggars, and
  snitches, and reinforced by Eren’s spectral agents, the
  crude mercenaries rule the streets with violence and fear.
  Irontooth Castle: (Large castle, pop. 2,470) The grand
  title conceals a depressing stronghold teetering on the
  verge of collapse. The castle is a collection of fallen walls
  and tottering towers, a condition mirrored by the sorry
  folk that seek shelter beneath its rain-soaked roofs. The
  brigands of Irontooth have little in the way of arms or
  armor, and months of poor leadership have shaken their
  already weak morale. Now the brigands of Irontooth fol-
  low their bandit-lord out of sheer desperation. 
  The ruler of Irontooth is a young Lehertian calling him-
  self the Scarlet Duke. As pompous as he is handsome, the
  Duke maintains his hold over the motley band simply
  because there is no one else charismatic enough chal-
  lenge him. It is only a matter of time before the brigands
  desert their useless leader, seeking their fortunes with
  other bands. 
  Wolfhold: (Village, pop. 835) A miserable collection of
  war refugees and cruel outlaws, Wolfhold takes its name
  from the desperate nature of its folk. During the day, the
  town appears deserted, but at night, street gangs vie for
  15
  
  territory in murderous battles fueled by desperation and
  hopelessness. With nothing to lose, the brigands have
  resorted to attacking each other; to walk the muddy
  streets of Wolfhold is to invite assault from every quarter.
  It is rumored that the gangs are battling over a great treas-
  ure hidden in a vault somewhere beneath Wolfhold, but
  one look at the feral brigands washes away any specula-
  tion of treasure, great or small. 
  Freeport, City of 
  Lord Mayor Rhenal Montier
  Population: 42,601 (humans 65%, half-orcs 19%,
  dwarves 6%, elves 5%, monstrous humanoids 4%, half-
  ings 1%)
  Resources: Slaves, mercenaries, black market trade,
  fish, whale oil 
  Capital: The City of Freeport 
  O
  nce an infamous pirate city, Freeport now pro-
  motes itself as a legitimate trade power. In truth,
  the pirate tradition is alive and well in Freeport,
  camouflaged by a fanciful veneer of respectability. The
  city’s pirates have become privateers, hiring out to the
  highest bidder.
  Amidst the soiled city streets, little has changed. Gangs
  continue to fight wars over drugs, slavery, and crime,
  while mad cultists dedicated to foul and unspeakable
  gods plumb the ruins of ancient civilizations for power,
  knowledge, and secrets of the past. 
  Rhenal Montier monitors his empire like a rat atop a pile
  of rotting corpses. The Lord Mayor is a master at keep-
  ing his rivals busy fighting one another, leaving little
  time or resources to challenge his rule. Montier has ruled
  Freeport for seven years in this manner, plying one chal-
  lenger against the next, and always working to entrench
  his own power base.
  It is whispered that Montier sees and hears all that tran-
  spires in his city. While there might be some truth to his
  near-mythic powers, the more likely answer is that
  Mortier keeps his people so poor and desperate that they
  are eager to sell out their fellow citizens for a single worn
  copper.
  The captains of Freeport are true privateers, willing to
  sail for any cause or crown if the color of the coin is right.
  An unspoken code prohibits Freeport captains from
  engaging one another in battle, but gold has a way of
  bending this code, resulting in grudges between merce-
  nary captains that can stretch on for years.
  Frost Barrens, the
  Numerous barbarian chieftains
  Population: ??? (predominantly humans, monstrous
  humanoids, and dwarves)
  Resources: Furs, timber 
  Capital: None
  N
  owhere in the North is there a land more forbid-
  ding than the icy reaches of the Frost Barrens.
  Terrible monsters stalk ancient ruins and bliz-
  zards sweep the land without warning. Remorhazes and
  frost worms prowl winter’s endless night, and summer’s
  bleak light does little to repel the arctic orcs or frost
  ghouls.
  The ferocity of the land is mirrored in its savage children.
  The barbarians of the Frost Barrens are often little better
  than animals, their constant struggle for survival leaving
  no room for the niceties of civilization. Here the ques-
  tions of life and death are decided by the strike of a bat-
  tleaxe or the thrust of a spear, and each day is a battle that
  must be won.
  Of the barbarians’ society, little is known. An oral culture
  with no written language, their history is replete with
  apocryphal folktales that may or may not have a ground-
  ing in truth. And while many sages have journeyed to the
  Frost Barrens in the hopes of recording these, none has
  ever returned.
  Unique to the Barrens are the barbarian witches known as
  the Hexas of the Eternal Flame. These aging hags main-
  tain fires that they claim have been burning since the cre-
  ation of the world. Wielding tremendous influence over
  the superstitious barbarians, the Hexas work their fell
  magics from hidden huts and caves. The Hexas use a
  complex system of glyphs to shape and contain their
  mystic powers. What relationship—if any—the Hexas
  share with the deserted ruins dotting the north remains a
  mystery; given the Hexas’ abhorrence for outsiders, and
  the dangers associated with the Barrens, it is unlikely that
  the mystery will be solved anytime soon. 
  Ambroshea Trades: (Hamlet, pop. 375) One of the few
  civilized trading outposts in the Frost Barrens,
  Ambroshea Trades is nearly impossible to reach for all
  but three months of the year. The small, orderly trading
  post does brisk business with the savages, trading
  weapons and armor for rich furs and skins. The outpost is
  ruled by Darston Isles, a man respected for his quick wit
  and wisdom as well as his skill with a blade.
  16
  
  Halls of the Mountain King
  The Mountain King, Oro Loroth
  Population: 497,205 (dwarves 68%, orcs 11%, humans
  10%, goblins 6%, half-orcs 5%, some ogres and hill
  giants) 
  Resources: Gold, silver, coal, iron, weapons and armor
  Capital: Risinox
  I
  f Hades had coal mines, they might resemble the
  soot-stained Halls of the Mountain King. Filled with
  armies of foul dwarves, depraved humans, and cruel
  orcs, the Halls are a poisonous blight on civlization, a
  thorn thrust directly into the heart of the Northlands.
  Oro Loroth, the dwarf daring to call himself the
  Mountain King, is an outcast of the Holdfast (see
  Holdfast of the Steel Overlord). No one knows why
  Loroth was exiled from the Holdfast, and the dwarves
  aren’t telling. But within five years of his exile, Loroth
  returned at the head of an army of orc and human merce-
  naries. The brutal army struck quickly, taking full advan-
  tage of Loroth’s knowledge of the mines, overwhelming
  the Dwarfhold of Clan Dronil. Isolated from their broth-
  ers in the Holdfast, the Dronil warriors fell in a series of
  ferocious battles, culminating in the complete slaughter
  of the Dronil clan.
  Since seizing control of the Halls, Loroth has quickly
  cemented his control of the mines, welcoming other
  dwarven outcasts into his kingdom and actively recruit-
  ing dwarves of an evil bent. Today, nearly one hundred
  years after the destruction of Clan Dronil, the armies of
  the Mountain King are stronger than ever.
  Loroth maintains order by ensuring that the armies of the
  Mountain King are never sedentary for long. He directs
  aggressive raids to the west and south of the Halls, into the
  Sylvan Downs and beyond. The rich plunder and plentiful
  slaves keeps his armies content, and attrition in battle does
  away with the rest. Thus far, Loroth has managed to keep
  a tight fist over his horde, but many believe that it is only
  a matter of time before the Mountain King overextends
  himself. If his kingdom were to collapse, however, the bro-
  ken armies of evil humanoids would rampage throughout
  the Northlands, pillaging and burning everything in their
  path. Some scholars argue that the Northlands are better
  with Loroth in command of the Halls than without. At
  least, the argument goes, Loroth is predictable.
  Isolated from the Holdfast of the Steel Overlord, the
  mines of Dronil are home to dozens of small fortress
  communities. Those of historical or strategic interest are
  listed below:
  Risinox: (Large city, pop. 13,907) Once the clanhold of
  the Dronil, the vast galleries and vaulted halls are now
  home to slave markets, roaring forges, and dark temples.
  Bored high into the walls of a mighty mountain, Risinox
  commands a view of the western Northlands and gives
  the Mountain King his name. Any army hoping to assault
  Risinox would have to fight up a steep slope, dodging
  hurled rocks and streams of flaming oil, up to a two-hun-
  dred-foot wall carved from the mountain itself—all
  before the real battle began.
  Loroth collapsed the tunnels leading into Risinox hours
  after seizing the city. Now the only approach (save a
  series of hidden passages known only to the Mountain
  King) is overland, a deadly proposition under the best of
  circumstances.
  Orgemouth: (Small town, pop. 972) Found at the foot of
  the Ul Dominor mountain range, the soiled city of
  Orgemouth is the trade center for the Mountain King.
  Pretty elven slaves, kidnapped from the Sylvan Downs,
  fetch a high price with southern traders, while swords
  and armor, forged in the hellfires of the Halls, are much
  sought after by immoral mercenary generals.
  The fortress is ruled by Volei Ojar, a retired half-orc
  assassin. Once Ojar roamed the Northlands, serving
  duplicitous princes and corrupt merchant lords. While the
  half-orc hasn’t worked as an assassin in years, he contin-
  ues to practice his skills, as if knowing the Mountain
  King’s days are numbered.
  Azaegal’s Hold: (Village, pop. 860) Azaegal’s Hold
  takes its name from the ancient red dragon that lairs atop
  the barren mountain peak. Through regular tribute of
  gold and slaves (and some say, bargains made with infer-
  nal powers), the Mountain King has succeeded in coerc-
  ing the mighty old wyrm into service.
  Azaegal’s Hold is a cold, spartan fortress, inhabited by
  ogres, hill and stone giants, and orcs. Above it all sits the
  mighty Azaegal, a fearsome wyrm of legend who—cen-
  turies ago—terrorized the Northlands with his fury and
  violence. Regardless of whatever hold Loroth claims
  over the dragon, Azaegal’s demeanor hasn’t change from
  his younger, wilder days, and it is only a matter of time
  before Azaegal terrorizes the Northlands again.
  17
  
  Holdfast of the Steel
  Overlord
  Longbeard of the Clans, Saraas
  Helsborne, the Steel Overlord 
  Population: 3,001,480 (dwarves 79%, gnomes 8%,
  humans 7%, elves 2%, other 4%)
  Resources: Gold, silver, platinum, gems, iron, steel,
  weapons, and armor
  Capital: Ul Balhar
  W
  ith the ruins of forgotten clanholds and mines
  scattered about the mountains of known
  world, scholars can be forgiven for assuming
  that the Bearded Folk of the Mountains are in decline.
  Such cynics need only trek within sight of the scarred
  tower-gates of Ul Gaolnor to know the truth of the mat-
  ter:
  The forges of the dwarf clans burn brighter than ever.
  Once, the dwarves were a disparate people, with no uni-
  fied governance above that of the clan. This changed
  when the dwarf seer Nomothamai peered into his dark
  crystal and foresaw the coming age of Man. Rather than
  surrender their lands to a war of slow attrition, the
  Bearded Folk abdicated their scattered mines and spent
  the next thousand years consolidating their power into a
  series of connected strongholds centered about the Ul
  Dominor Mountains.
  While independent clanholds still thrive, it is the
  Holdfast of the Steel Overlord that embodies the might of
  the dwarves. Unified beneath the will of a single
  Overlord and the Council of the Clans, the dwarves have
  successfully avoided the endless skirmishes that plague
  the elves. The present Overlord is a hardy long-beard
  named Saraas Helsborne, who first sat upon the throne
  one hundred years ago, and fully expects to rule for
  another three hundred.
  The choleric dwarves have embraced war as a philoso-
  phy and lifestyle; their guiding principle is to answer
  every injury or slight tenfold. The saying goes that if a
  human cheats you in trade, crush his family; if an elf
  snubs you in court, burn her forest to the ground; and if
  any mortal is so foolish to attack a dwarf at home or
  abroad, level entire nations to punish the guilty.
  The law is seldom enforced to the letter, but its spirit per-
  vades Holdfast society. Whereas a human duelist might
  count himself a master after a decade of training, dwar-
  ven warriors study for hundreds of years. Their weapons,
  armor, and tactics are all the result of thousands of years
  of innovation and endless refinement. Heroes of all races
  make regular pilgrimages to the Holdfast clans, hoping to
  apprentice with a renowned weapons master, for while
  the dwarven physique might limit the practice of certain
  combat styles, it in no way limits their study of warcraft.
  The halls of Holdfast are open to all, but few races can
  tolerate the dark galleries, clammy mines, and dour com-
  pany for long. Most visitors attend the seasonal trade-
  meets, when thousands of traders and merchants fill the
  outer halls of Holdfast. The Holdfast maintains cordial
  ties with the lord-barons of the Criestine Empire, and
  makes regular shipments of mithril and adamantine to the
  elven nations.
  Dwarven cities are nearly entirely underground, hidden
  beneath mountaintops or in the walls of craggy canyons.
  Exposed elements like towers and gates are always well
  defended and can only be entered via tunnels and the
  like. The following is a partial list of the strongholds that
  pledge allegiance to the Steel Overlord.
  Stalgard: (Small city, pop. 7,016) Lording over the
  Saedre River, the city of Stalgard is the Holdfast’s chief
  trading post to the west. Goods are hauled upstream on
  barges and then hoisted several hundred feet up sheer
  cliffs, to wide stone balconies set in the face of Mount
  Ajai. There, in the stuffy bazaars and low-roofed caverns,
  dwarven traders exchange fine blades, armor, and shining
  ingots for fortunes of smoked meats, cheeses, fruits and
  vegetables. The dwarven traders are notorious for their
  copper-pinching avarice, and greedy Northlanders are
  often accused of having “cousins in Stalgard.”
  While well defended, the city is less martial than most.
  Nevertheless, dwarven axemen patrol the balconies and
  bazaars, while well-trained artillerists scan the skies. The
  accuracy of dwarven ballistae teams is famous through-
  out the Northlands, as is the deadliness of their razor-
  sharp bolts. Ballistae ammunition is often augmented by
  spells to cause terrible wounds, spread panic, or—most
  effective of all—paralyze fliers. 
  Ul Balhar: (Metropolis, pop. 27,203) In the dwarven
  tongue, Ul means “place of battle.” Built as a testament
  to ancient Amonzadd, the capital of the stout folk is also
  the site of a celebrated dwarven battle. 
  Mighty Ul Balhar has exceeded even the great dwarven
  cities of legend. All of the complex’s original caves have
  been enlarged and reinforced, the galleries decorated
  with flagstones and martial murals, and a maze of mines
  bored into the heart of the mountain. It would take the
  armies of several nations to even threaten mighty Ul
  Balhar. 
  The city has never lost sight of its violent origins. The
  18
  
  dwarves maintain a standing army of disciplined heavy
  infantry, tunnel fighters, artillerists, and sappers. With the
  constant press of marauding giants, humanoids hordes,
  and worse, the soldiers’ battle prowess remains sharp. A
  proud martial tradition has evolved over the centuries,
  with warriors and warrior-priests revered by the common
  folk.
  Ul Gaolnor: (Small castle, pop. 1,592) Warding the east-
  ern border of the Ul Dominor mountains, Ul Gaolnor
  sees more regular battle than all other dwarven citadels
  combined. The formidable iron gates of Ul Gaolnor are
  flanked by massive stone towers. Scarred from iron-
  bound battering rams, terrible spells, and the blood of a
  thousand foes, the gates stand in opposition of any who
  would dare challenge the might of the Steel Overlord.
  The armies of Ul Gaolnor are legendary among martial
  circles. To have fought atop the towers is to have stood
  beside the greatest warriors in the history of the
  Northlands, and any dwarf that has served at Ul Gaolnor
  is honored and admired by his people. Sadly, for every
  dwarven war hero returning from Ul Gaolnor, there are
  twenty warriors that never return, slain by dragonfire, an
  orcish spear, a harpy’s lance, or any of the hundred other
  perils that regularly threaten the citadel.
  The commanding officer of Ul Gaolnor is the revered
  general Durgin Dwurthiel. Respected by his armies,
  feared by his foes, “Irongut” Dwurthiel has commanded
  the armies of Ul Gaolnor for over ninety years. Old
  before his time, the craggy dwarf conceals a heavy sor-
  row born of regret for the thousands of dwarves that have
  died under his command. So far the sadness has yet to
  affect his ability to command his armies, but Dwurthiel
  can often be seen stalking the battlements late at night, in
  full armor, urgosh glinting in the moonlight.
  Ul Yazhmotk: (Large town, pop. 3,804) Once a citadel
  built to stand down the armies of human barbarians raid-
  ing from the north, Ul Yazhmotk has grown into a com-
  munity where dwarven smiths, generals, and engineers
  retire to live out the end of their lives. 
  The tradition began when the citadel, beset by an army of
  frost giants astride remorhazes, put out a call for aid. The
  beleaguered Holdfast had few warriors to spare, leaving
  the call to be answered by ancient and venerable war-
  riors. When the threat had passed, the old axes remained.
  Since that time, Ul Yazhmotk has served as a living vault
  of dwarven wisdom. Great smiths, warriors, and artisans
  of every culture make pilgrimages to apprentice with the
  citdel’s masters or simply gaze upon the vast collections
  of matchless masterworks.
  A council of seven master craftsmen, elected by their
  respective guilds, rules the citadel. More than simple
  politicians, the craftsmen are artisans selected to repre-
  sent the height of dwarven culture.
  Zan Tarkhaal: (Small castle, pop. 2,058) While the
  Holdfast is not known for the might of its spellcasters,
  the outcome of many of its battles has rested on the cast-
  ing of a single well-placed spell. The underground gal-
  leries and lonely watchtowers of Zan Tarkhaal are home
  to the war casters, sorcerers, and battle priests of the
  Holdfast. 
  The stout folk of Zan Tarkhaal are fiercely passionate
  (even for dwarves) about their studies, resulting in
  unusual collaborations between arcane and divine spell-
  casters. To hail from Zan Tarkhaal is to be keenly aware
  of the mystic forces that shape the multiverse, and of a
  spellcaster’s place in dwarven society.
  The town’s nominal ruler is a young general named
  Yuthor Relmarok, a dwarf with little appreciation—and
  even less respect—for mystic studies. Relmarok has
  come to regard his post as a form of punishment, and
  passes his sentence finding ways to impede the work of
  the spellcasters.
  19
  
  Koranth, Barony of 
  Lady Kesheba, Baroness of
  Koranth, Magister of the
  Aurora 
  Population: 638,910 (humans 67%, half-elves 9%, elves
  7%, gnomes 5%, dwarves 4%, halflings 3%, other 5%)
  Resources: Timber, furs, magic, whale oil, fish 
  Capital: Stromblaen
  K
  oranth is a nation under siege. With the fall of
  Leherti and the rise of the Scourge, the people of
  the northwest barony have been cut off from the
  remainder of the civilized world. Without the resources
  to reestablish trade routes, the empire and its allies have
  effectively abandoned the barony to its own fate. In des-
  peration, the barony has turned to smugglers to ferry vital
  supplies north, an expensive gambit that exacts an enor-
  mous price in lives and gold.
  Founded six hundred years ago by mages seeking free-
  dom for their esoteric studies, the archbarony has a histo-
  ry of isolation and arcane might. The mages of Koranth
  are second only to the Elven Loremasters in sheer mystic
  might, and are peerless in the arcane schools of evocation
  and transmutation. Both the Ordo Arcana and the
  Crescent Coven trace their origins to the northern fens,
  and many of the known world’s most famous (and infa-
  mous) wizards, witches and warlocks maintain hidden
  demesnes in Koranth.
  Traditionally, the baron has always been a master of the
  arcane arts; the current baroness is no exception. Lady
  Kesheba is reputed to be an archmage of no small talent,
  and she retains the council of specialists in the arts of div-
  ination and summoning. The truly powerful spellcrafters,
  though, shun politics to concentrate solely on esoteric
  mysteries.
  Despite the work of the mages, the barony’s chief exports
  have always been timber and furs. Since the advent of the
  Scourge, exports have slowed to a trickle, straining the
  baron’s coffers and spurring exploration of the northern
  wastes. 
  The barony’s borders are patrolled by sorcerer-warriors
  astride fearsome arcane chargers. These outriders,
  already few in number, have been strained to the break-
  ing point by the press of the Scourge. They have survived
  this far through a cunning mix of tactics and deadly mag-
  ics, but the lonely Mirdar-Luminar Steppes leave little
  room for error.
  The cities and town of Koranth are highly independent
  and are expected to fend for themselves. Stout walls,
  solemn watch towers, and watch ravens are common
  sights, and each city fields its own guard.
  Ardwall: (Small city, pop. 7,156) The gray towers of
  Ardwall look west to the Mirdar-Luminar Steppes, home
  of the swarming hordes of the Scourge. The folk of
  Ardwall are ever vigilant, awaiting the day the Scourge
  turns from Leherti and strikes east. The fierce citizens
  refuse to abandon their city, preferring instead to stock-
  pile supplies, hire sellswords, construct siege weapons,
  and train every able-bodied adult to serve in the city’s
  militia.
  Ardwall is ruled by two siblings, Aelimon and Cimor
  Wyverun. Aelimon is a slim, silver-haired witch who
  spends her time ministering to the poor folk of her
  beloved city. Respected for her wisdom and feared for
  her magical skill, Aelimon directs the day-to-day work of
  the city. Her brother Cimor is a rangy warrior who splits
  his days between training the city militia and patrolling
  steppes with the city’s outriders.
  Northwatch Keep: (Keep, pop. 210) Built on the frigid
  shores of Hoarfrost Bay, Northwatch Keep is ringed by
  icicles and snowdrifts nine months out of the year. For
  three brief cycles of the moon, the snows recede, warm
  winds blow from the south, and the flowers of the tundra
  blossom and die. 
  The hearty souls of Northwatch Keep guard against
  tribes of savage orcs and ogres that cross the ice floes
  when the Hoarfrost freezes over, bearing arms and armor
  made of a meteoric black metal and wielding unknown
  spells. The origins of these monstrous foes have yet to be
  discovered; no hero has ventured north of the Hoarfrost
  and returned to tell the tale. 
  Rakewight: (Small city, pop. 10,392) Built atop ruins of
  indeterminable age, Rakewight was founded two hun-
  dred years ago by the notorious wizard Elroth Isencrith as
  a haven for necromancers wishing to practice their craft
  without shame or dishonor. The city has grown dramati-
  cally since Isencrith raised the first black tower, but
  Rakewight has never succeeded in shaking the shadow of
  its past.
  Nor, many argue, does it care to. The city’s architecture
  makes dramatic use of skulls, death runes, and arcane
  signs. Its citizens favor dark colors and darker humor,
  and the scent of rot lingers on everything and everyone
  passing through the city. The officials of Rakewight
  decry any attempt to characterize the city as evil, but
  none can deny the city’s bizarre obsession with all things
  dark and dead.
  The current ruler of Rakewight is Lady Elise Isencrith, a
  direct descendent of the city’s founder. Exceedingly thin
  20
  
  and pale of skin, Lady Isencrith is often compared—
  unfavorably—with a corpse. A pair of silent warriors,
  anonymous behind spiked plate armor and wielding
  wicked scythes, accompany the good lady wherever she
  goes. Deliberate or not, her affects and demeanor have
  proven effective when bargaining with visiting officials
  and foreign merchant lords. 
  Raven Hollow: (Small town, pop. 1,270) Situated in the
  shadow of the Corsan Forest, Raven Hollow serves as a
  gateway to the eastern wilds. A surprising number of vis-
  itors pass through Raven Hollow; the trading post is far
  more prosperous than its size would suggest, and its
  shops are legendary for having at least one of every mun-
  dane item. 
  Raven Hollow is ruled by consensus, but in times of need
  the citizens turn to the Witch of the Wood. No one knows
  the withered crone’s age, but it was her raven that led
  trappers to Raven Hollow when the trading post was
  established four hundred years ago. 
  Stromblaen: (Large city, pop. 24,058) The capital of
  Koranth is respected throughout the Northlands as a
  place of esoteric lore. While Kassantia is grander, and
  Corsan enjoys a far more ancient lineage, Stromblaen is
  where mages go to test their wildest theories. This atti-
  tude is captured in the crisp, excited air of the capital,
  where mages engage in heated discussions in the cafes
  and taverns, harried apprentices rush from shop to shop
  at their masters’ beck and call, and not a day passes with-
  out some summoned beast lumbering down the royal
  promenade.
  With so much talent, many assumed that Koranth (and
  Stromblaen in particular) would hardly be inconve-
  nienced by the threat of the Scourge. Sadly, until the
  Scourge is hammering at the gate of their beloved city,
  the free-minded archmages and sorcerors will be loathe
  to focus on something so mundane as a horde of savage
  humanoids. Lady Kesheba has done her best to rally the
  arcane might of Koranth, but with mages secluded in
  their lone towers and pocket demiplanes, it is nearly
  impossible to convene a congress of mages, let alone
  secure their commitment to a course of action. 
  Lady Kesheba, for her part, is fully aware of the threat
  posed by the Scourge. Forced to choose between her
  respect for individual freedom and the love of her coun-
  try, she has begun an ambitious plan to ensure the com-
  pliance of the mages of Koranth. Lady Kesheba knows in
  her heart that a web of duplicity may cost her the one
  thing that she loved most, but the Magister of the Aurora
  would rather be exiled from her beloved Koranth than
  watch it fall to the Scourge.
  Kalia, Kingdom of
  His Royal Majesty, King Taranax,
  Regent of the Far Horizen, Lord
  Admiral of the Open Sea, et
  cetera
  Population: 610,780 (humans 73%, halflings 8%, half-
  elves 5%, elves 4%, dwarves 4%, half-orcs 3%, gnomes
  2%, other 1%)
  Resources: Trade goods
  Capital: Avenors
  W
  hile small in landmass, the kingdom of Kalía
  is the undisputed master of the high seas. Her
  sea captains have set foot on every known
  continent, bringing back tributes of gold and spices, as
  well as tales of danger and close escapes. The success of
  Kalía is so great that her galleons sail under the flag of
  Crieste as the emperor’s Royal Society of Explorers and
  Fartraders.
  The people of Kalía are wanderers, never satisfied with
  any one horizen. The open sea is their constant compan-
  ion, singing young children to sleep at night, and calling
  old men back into her dark embrace. This mistress does
  not come without a price; every year dozens of ships are
  lost, smashed against hidden reefs, devoured by terrible
  sea monsters, or simply consumed by raging storms.
  Every citizen of Kalía has a family member or friend who
  21
  
  has died at sea, and every hamlet and town has a shrine
  dedicated to sailors lost to the depths. The people of
  Kalía know that the sea cannot be conquered, but they
  also know that it shouldn’t be feared.
  The nation is ruled by Olann Taranax, a dashing young
  king who always seems to have a dozen noble sycophants
  in tow. The Taranax line is famous for their elaborate
  fetes and masked balls, and it is said that a Kalían who is
  not dancing, sailing, or making love must be either drunk
  or—more likely—dead. 
  Avenors: (Metropolis, pop. 38,930) One of the great
  cities of the north, Avenors is a city of exotic wonder.
  Flush with trophies and tributes gathered from every cor-
  ner of the world, Avenors is a chaotic whirl of bright col-
  ors, foreign languages, and pungent smells. Every day a
  new ship sails into port with tales of adventure, just as
  another ship departs for distant lands.
  While under the rule of King Taranax, the day-to-day
  management of the city is left to a dozen or so merchant
  houses. Regarding themselves as nobles, the merchant
  houses rule from palatial manors set high in the surround-
  ing hills. But while nobles quarrel over territories and
  lands, the merchant houses squabble over trade routes
  and tarrifs.
  Avenors is also known for its distinctive schools of fenc-
  ing. Cadres of duelists, rapiers slung low on their hips,
  strut through the bustling markets and busy taverns,
  eager for any excuse to demonstrate their swashbuckling
  prowess. The duelists of Avenors dismiss armor as the
  “coat of cowards.” Instead, the duelists rely on their
  speed and swordsmanship to keep them from harm’s
  way. Accordingly, healers are in high demand in Avenors,
  and some duelists even take out contracts with their
  favorite surgeons and leech-using barbers. 
  Saltmoon: (Village, pop. 722) A lonely fishing village
  situated above a sheltered cove, Saltmoon is a typical
  Kalían community. Ruled by a council of elders,
  Saltmoon makes its living off of the large, seasonal
  salmon, and by sailing explorers to the remote sea caves
  known as the Grottos. The Grottos are extensive, extend-
  ing through several miles of known caves and fissures,
  but with nearly one-third of the caves underwater, thor-
  ough exploration has been nearly impossible. Locals tell
  of buried treasaure, undead sea elves, and a lost civiliza-
  tion making its home far underground. These tales are
  suspect at best, but that doesn’t stop would-be heroes
  from hiring sailboats and vanishing into the Grottos. 
  Veltos: (Large town, pop. 2,819) While all of Kalía’s
  merchant houses maintain envoys in Veltos, nearly all of
  the town’s citizens are foreigners. Some are drawn by the
  wealth that passes through the city gates, others are
  agents of distant nations, while others are simply caravan
  masters keeping their fingers on the pulse of the
  Northlands. 
  Hide-armored barbarians brush shoulders with swagger-
  ing rogues, gnome traders toss dice with green-skinned
  half-orcs, and dark-skinned magicians garbed in rune-
  covered robes watch silently. Veltos is a city of extremes
  and oddities, and it takes a very odd stranger indeed to
  draw the stares of her citizens. 
  Sellswords and mercenary spellcasters are always in
  great demand, either as caravan guards or discrete agents
  of merchant intrigue. Several mercenary companies
  make their home in Veltos for this purpose, including the
  Company of the Minotaur, the Brotherhood of the
  Bladed, and the League of the Mask; violent turnover
  ensures that the companies are always looking for prom-
  ising young warriors. 
  Leherti, Grand Duchy of
  (Occupied)
  Archduke Filip Ramaster the XII
  (in exile)
  Population: 1,901,480 (humans 52%, orcs 21%, goblins
  8%, half-orcs 7%, ogres and giants 4%, elves 2%, other
  6%)
  Resources: Slaves, some trade goods 
  Capital: None (once Araloges)
  T
  he Grand Duchy of Leherti, once a shining gem in
  the crown of the Criestine Empire, now stands in
  ruins, a testament to the might of the Scourge and
  the folly of mankind.
  For the last five hundred years, the royal Andithil
  dynasty, a family of haughty aristocrats, ruled the Grand
  Duchy. Consistent inbreeding, however, reduced the
  heirs to feebleminded regents convinced of their divinity.
  When the Scourge rode out of the north, Archduke
  Ramaster declared that he would lead the armies himself.
  Sensing imminent disaster, the Archduke’s advisors
  attempted a coup; amazingly, Ramaster survived. In a
  single night, he had every advisor, general, and com-
  manding officer executed for treason, leaving the ducal
  army in disarray. The Scourge swept into the Grand
  Duchy unopposed, laying waste to all.
  Now the Archduke reigns in exile, planning his return to
  power. His realm stands in ruin, his people enslaved by
  the Scourge or scraping out wretched existences in the
  ruined cities. The heirlooms of the duchy, magical
  weapons and treasures beyond compare, are lost some-
  22
  
  where in the smoking ruins of Araloges, along with any
  hope for the Grand Duchy’s return to greatness.
  The fell generals of the Scourge now rule the land. Orcish
  warbands and roving gangs of outlaws prey upon the
  small towns and villages, while the cities are crushed
  beneath the iron grip of vicious warlords and infernal
  priests. With only enough troops to maintain order with-
  in the cities, the Scourge has permitted the outlands to
  descend into lawlessness. 
  Araloges: (Ruined metropolis, pop. 15,890) Once the
  great city of Araloges was esteemed throughout the
  Northlands, her proud citizens parading along the wide
  promenades, proclaiming their undying admiration for
  the Archduke. Today the old capital is in ruins, her citi-
  zens enslaved, the promenades covered in debris, her leg-
  endary treasures carried back to the Scourgelands in rude
  canvas sacks.
  The remaining citizens labor beneath the cruel whips of
  the Scourge, slowly rebuilding the city in a cruel mock-
  ery of its former grandeur. The city is ruled by Shanac, a
  sorcerous medusa with a gift for warcraft. The general
  wears an elaborate veil while holding court in the ruined
  city, and is known to fight with wands and staves. A host
  of petrified slaves ring the city, standing as a constant
  reminder to those that would dare to challenge Shanac’s
  rule. While her slaves rebuild the city, the medusa sends
  search parties to comb the ruins of the palace, searching
  for lost and forgotten lore.
  Canliath: (Ruined large city, pop. ???) With temples
  devoted to nearly every faith, Canliath was once known
  as the City of Gods. Rather than daring to rule the city
  and risk the wrath of the Gods, the hordes of the Scourge
  blockaded the famous bronze gates, locking its citizens
  inside, and put the city to the torch. 
  What curses escaped the searing lips of the faithful, and
  what foul bargains were struck with infernal powers will
  never be known. Now the City of the Gods is a city of
  soot-stained marble and cinder. Vague reports tell of
  demonic shapes that pick through the ruins, burnt corpses
  stumbling through the broken streets, and nameless hor-
  rors that haunt the city at night. Many faiths offer boun-
  ties for recovering artifacts lost in the disaster, but few
  are the heroes that will dare the fire-scarred ruins.
  Invergin: (Metropolis, pop. 28,915) Of the hundreds of
  thousands of slaves taken in the fall of Leherti, over one-
  half were sent to the infamous slave pits of Invergin. Once
  a crossroads of trade with the east, the city of Ivergin has
  become a vle city of slave masters, amoral wizards,
  wicked priests, and merchant lords of the worst sort. 
  Unlike most cities in the Grand Duchy, Invergin was
  spared total destruction. But with the arrival of the slave
  merchants, this blessing has been turned on its head. Now
  the city, reasonably undamaged, is entirely inhabited by
  the depraved and corrupt. Houses of ill repute line the
  avenues, filthy taverns and gambling are found on every
  corner, and temples devoted to dark gods and infernal
  powers have been built atop cathedrals and monasteries.
  Worst of all are the slave pits. A massive arena has been
  built in the center of the city, and slaves that fail to fetch
  a good bit of coin on the auction block are forced to fight
  for their lives against a menagerie of monsters and wild
  beasts. Slaves that win are never released, only returned
  to the auction. The gladiatorial battles draw enormous
  crowds, and fortunes are gambled on the outcome.
  Invergin is ruled by Bael, a muscular giant of a man.
  Blinded in the assault on Leherti, Bael fights in a visor-
  less helm, made from the same dragon scales that were
  used to forge his half-plate armor. Legend holds that the
  scales came from the silver dragon that stole Bael’s eye-
  sight. Delighting in personal combat, Lord Bael has
  promised to free any slave that can best him in single
  combat. Many have taken Bael up on his offer, and all
  have been buried in a mass grave beyond the city walls.
  Yithain: (Ruined large city, pop. 16,378) With the col-
  lapse of the Grand Duchy, most patriots withdrew to Free
  Cities or the Theocracy of the Lance, leaving behind hap-
  less peasants of the Grand Duchy to fend for themselves.
  But some patriots remain, hiding out in scorched forests
  and caves. They fight a guerilla war against overwhelm-
  ing odds, sustained by the belief that although the war
  has been lost, meaningful battles can still be won.
  23
  
  The city of Yithain is one such place. Beset by the armies
  of the Scourge, the city should have fallen like every
  other in the Grand Duchy. Instead, the city found unex-
  pected relief in a flood of warriors, priests, and mages,
  fleeing before the march of the horde. The soldiers rallied
  beside Morgan Ironwolf, a legendary sellsword from the
  Southern Province. Standing atop the battlements,
  Ironwolf and her companions watched the plains darken
  with the sheer number of the Scourge; accepting certain
  death, Ironwolf and her companions prepared to lead the
  final defense of Yithain. 
  Frost giants led the assault with hurled volleys of boul-
  ders, destroying the city’s walls in mere hours. Orcs, gob-
  lins, and trolls swarmed through the rubble, setting a fire
  that leapt from building to building, quickly overtaking
  their entire city. Celebrating their easy victory, the fell
  army relaxed.
  With the flames of Yithain reaching to the sky, Ironwolf
  and her ragtag force struck from the ruined city, slicing
  through the confused horde, and laying waste to an army
  five times their size. 
  Reports allege that the general realized that she couldn’t
  save the city, but that she could destroy her foes.
  Tacticians debate the merit of Ironwolf’s strategy, but
  none can fault her ends: While all of Leherti has fallen to
  the Scourge, the Company of the Ironwolf still occupies
  ruined Yithain, and harries the Scourge from the very
  heart of the fallen Duchy. 
  Leherti, Free Cities of
  Khorjala the Hawk 
  Population: 1,788,910 (humans 63%, half-elves 10%,
  elves 8%, dwarves 7%, gnomes 5%, halfings 4%, other
  3%)
  Resources: Trade goods, copper, gems
  Capital: None
  W
  hen Archduke Ramaster and his armies fled
  the raging Horde, Leherti was assumed lost.
  Handfuls of desperate generals rallied their
  men in a costly holding action, fighting not for the feeble
  Archduke, but for honor and the glory of Leherti. Unable
  to stop the Scourge, they did manage to slow its advance,
  permitting the cities of Cyros, Ilnoth, and Amthor to
  launch a counterattack. The forces of the Scourge and
  Leherti met at the Battle of Minérond’s Ford, where the
  armies ground each other to a bloody stalemate that holds
  to this day.
  Those three battle-scarred cities and the surrounding
  lands are now known as the Free Cities of Leherti. They
  continue to wage a bitter guerilla war against the Horde,
  rangers and scouts striking from the forests and broken
  hills, while gnome sappers undermine roads, walls, and
  bridges, and druids call forth lightning from the sky. Each
  attack brings a bitter reprisal, and the Lehertians live
  under the constant threat of death and rapine at the hands
  of the Scourge.
  The Lehertian resistance is led by Khorjala the Hawk, a
  dusky-skinned, enigmatic ranger. The men that follow
  him are a motley mix of hardened soldiers, displaced
  nobility, and rustic peasants. Of Khorjala, much is
  rumored, but little known for certain. His name is not
  found on any of the pre-war rosters, nor is he known to
  any of Ramaster’s generals. Cunning in his tactics and
  vicious on the field of battle, legend holds that Khorjala
  has been nearly captured a dozen times, and yet always
  manages to slip free. Tarkhan Khurzog—Master of the
  Scourge—has taken a personal interest in the Hawk,
  sending demons, assassins, bounty hunters, and worse to
  bring in the notorious general.
  The Free Cities of Leherti continue to scratch out an exis-
  tence in the shadow of enemy occupation. The people are
  haggard and frail, and exhausted refugees line the muddy
  streets. Overcrowding and poverty has led to the rise of
  criminal bosses who offer protection, food, and other
  necessities … for a price. The Lord Mayors of the Free
  Cities do their best to contain the bosses’ power to the
  slums, where they are permitted to rule uncontested.
  Of the many bosses vying for dominance, two stand out
  as the most successful and ruthless. Phendel the
  Beggarmaster, a corpulent bull with a legendary appetite
  for sweetmeats and attractive women of every race, rules
  from the Old Slums of Cyros; his greatest rival is Teshin,
  an up-and-coming rogue, late of Punjar. Already the two
  have clashed on several occasions, leaving trails of bod-
  ies throughout the filthy slums. It has been suggested that
  the lord mayors encourage this sort of violent rivalry as a
  means of weakening the bosses’ overall power. 
  Amthor: (Small city, pop. 28,190) Flooded with
  refugees, Amthor’s population has nearly tripled since
  the Fall of Leherti. Tents and shacks crowd the streets,
  and malnourishment and disease are commonplace;
  meanwhile, the city’s resources are exhausted simply try-
  ing to maintain the status quo.
  The lord mayor is Alden Morward, corpulent son of a
  powerful merchant, placed in power as a favor to his
  father. The Fall of Leherti transformed Morward’s post
  from one of ease to one of constant crises. Surprisingly,
  Morward has risen to the challenge, maintaining order in
  a delicate balance between diplomacy, back-alley deals
  with the gang bosses, and the constant presence of city
  guards. Still, dozens of new refugees arrive daily with no
  24
  
  end in sight; it is only a matter of time before Morward’s
  house of cards collapses under its own weight.
  Cyros: (Small city, pop. 11,201) During the last months
  of the war, it was said that Leherti wouldn’t fall so long
  as Cyros stood. Occupying a small island near the west-
  ern shore of Wyrm’s Deep, the citadel-city became the
  lynchpin of the Lehertian Resistance. Cyros weathered
  terrible assaults from hordes of humanoids, archmages,
  sea giants, and even a pair of adult red dragons. Under
  the direction of Tesron Valri, the city’s half-elf lord
  mayor, Cyros gave as good as she got, withstanding the
  concentrated might of the Scourge.
  Now Cyros is a staging ground for most of the attacks
  into the occupied territory. However, this has again
  focused the might of the Scourge on a single city, and the
  citizens of Cyros have cause to be frightened. They may
  pay a steep price for saving the Free Cities of Leherti.
  Ilnoth: (Metropolis, pop. 26,737) There is little doubt
  that the Scourge will go to war again soon, and standing
  at the foot of Wyrm’s Deep, Ilnoth is likely to bear the
  brunt of the invasion. This places the lady mayor and her
  council in the uncomfortable situation of supporting the
  Resistance while dreading its inevitable result. 
  Bethtar the Sade has served as Lady Mayor for over a
  decade, and refuses to let harm come to her beloved
  Ilnoth. She and her council have initiated negotiations
  with Tarkhan Khurzog, Master of the Scourge; thus far,
  these dealings have been kept secret except for a privi-
  leged few, but if the Scourge does go to war again, the
  city’s duplicity will become quickly apparent.
  Luithea, Kingdom of
  White Drake of the North, His
  Royal Majesty King Beldor
  Population: 638,250 (humans 64%, half-elves 8%,
  halflings 7%, dwarves 6%, elves 6%, gnomes 5%, half-
  orcs 4%)
  Resources: Timber, gold, copper, trade goods 
  Capital: Armadel
  O
  ldest of the northern kingdoms, the nation of
  Luithea was once a humble fiefdom awarded to a
  Criestine knight. Since its inception, the country
  has slowly expanded its borders, adopting new lands and
  developing a rich sense of history and tradition. The peo-
  ple of Luithea take great pride in their motherland, ele-
  vating her folk heroes into demi-saints.
  For its entire history, Luithea has been ruled a single
  unbroken dynasty; the current regent is the beloved King
  Beldor. Once a valiant knight who protected his kingdom
  from atop a mighty charger, the old king seldom has call
  to raise a blade, and only dons his majestic full plate
  armor for ceremonies and festivals. King Beldor knows
  that his seasons are numbered, and he quietly longs for
  the lost years. Beldor’s son, Seremac, is a conniving
  worm who delights in his father’s anguish. With no other
  heir, Beldor fears what will become of his beloved king-
  dom after his death.
  While relying on natural resources for the bulk of its
  income, Luithea is more developed than most of its
  northern cousins. Among the many farmers, miners, and
  woodcutters, there is also a healthy population of artisans
  and traders. King Beldor encourages the education of his
  people, but this runs counter to the wishes of the Crieste
  lord-barons, who would prefer Luithea to remain a sim-
  ple backwater. Every year the people are forced to watch
  as the kingdom’s finest knights and spellcasters are con-
  scripted into the imperial armies. Inspired by idealistic
  young nobles, the citizens have begun to cry out for free-
  dom from their imperial overlords. So far, this has result-
  ed in nothing more than scuffles with imperial tax collec-
  tors, but the court in Archbridge has caught wind of
  Luithea’s impudence, and has sworn to execute any citi-
  zen daring to defy imperial decree. 
  At the sunset of his life, King Beldor finds his nation at a
  turning point. The coming years herald turmoil and
  unrest, and Beldor cannot guide his nation forever. Soon
  he will be forced to decide between passing the crown of
  Luithea on to his son, or choosing another heir and end-
  ing a dynasty of a thousand years. The decision weighs
  on the aging monarch, but if he waits much longer, death
  may make the decision for him.
  Armadel: (Large city, pop. 18,250) The glorious city of
  Armadel is a vision of grandeur and majesty. Built high
  atop a tall hill and defended by high walls, the towers of
  the central citadel rise above the common morning fog,
  earning the castle the name of Cloudwatch.
  Armadel is renowned for its Wyrm Knights, an elite
  cadre of warriors who ride into battle astride wyverns.
  Few in number, the knights are celebrated heroes of the
  people. When they take flight from the towers of
  Cloudwatch, citizens crowd the streets and balconies,
  shouting and waving to their venerated knights.
  King Beldor holds court in Armadel, but every spring he
  leads the royal court in a tour of the cities, villages, and
  towns of Luithea. Beldor savors this chance to see the
  countryside, and his people celebrate the arrival of the
  popular monarch.
  Eisenhold: (Large castle, pop. 3,582) The dark, solemn
  castle with its grim defenders stands in stark contrast to
  25
  
  the nobility and gleaming spires of Armadel. The castle
  of Eisenhold and the surrounding town is home to
  Seremac Beldor, the Black Prince, heir apparent to the
  Kingdom of Luithea.
  A bitter young man, the Black Prince spends his days
  sulking in Eisenhold’s highest tower, plotting new and
  ever more devious ways of dishonoring his father. The
  Black Prince dallies in illicit affairs with the wives of his
  father’s knights, but even these distractions offer only
  temporary reprieve from his foul demeanor. The only
  time the Black Prince is truly happy is when he is killing
  something, preferably a sentient creature. Lean, lithe, and
  cunning, Seremac has matured into a deadly swordsman,
  a talent sure to serve him well in the years to come.
  Welwyn: (Small town, pop. 921) A wilderness town
  standing in the shadow of the Cairnswild forest, Welwyn
  is home to trappers and huntsmen who earn a dangerous
  living hunting the dangerous dire boars that rut in the for-
  est glades. 
  The town is ruled by the young and charismatic Lady
  Arabella, daughter to the late mayor. Arabella shares the
  duties of her post with the town’s magistrate, a grim man
  known as Malchor.
  Morrain, Kingdom of
  King Mirias Stormwarden, the
  Argent Sovereign
  Population: 294,910 (humans 54%, half-elves 16%,
  dwarves 11%, elves 6%, halflings 5%, gnomes 4%, other
  4%)
  Resources: Silver, gems, jewelry
  Capital: Galaron 
  F
  ounded by a band of sworn brothers five hundred
  years ago, the Kingdom of Morrain owes fealty to
  Crieste in name only. Morrain weathered the
  Interregnum alone, fending off goblinoid hordes and
  giants, and emerged as the face of independence in the
  north. While other nations raise the clarion cry for free-
  dom, the people of Morrain live it.
  A small kingdom with limited resources, nearly every cit-
  izen is asked to take part in the nation’s defense. Old men
  and striplings, merchants and knaves—all are expected to
  take up arms when the watchfires flare on the towers.
  King Stormwarden embodies the noble ambitions of his
  people. A white-haired half-elf skilled with the bow and
  blade, Stormwarden spent his youth exploring the rocky
  passes, game trails, and ancient dwarf-highways that
  weave through the wilds of Morrain. Now a mature sov-
  ereign, Stormwarden rules from the citadel in Galaron,
  with old adventuring companions ringing his throne. In
  battle, Stormwarden fights with a terrible silver
  greatsword that rumbles with thunder and calls down
  lightning from the sky.
  With his forces committed to border patrols, the Argent
  Sovereign is always on the lookout for stalwart heroes.
  The people of Morrain can handle most small threats on
  their own, but when giants, dragons, and worse prowl
  from their dark lairs in the Frosteye Mountains, the call
  goes out for courageous champions. 
  Cillamar: (Small town, pop. 1,030) A thriving commu-
  nity set on the doorstep of a vast wilderness, Cillamar
  grows with every passing season as explorers and adven-
  tures press further into the frontier. Cillamar trades lum-
  ber, furs, and grain with the dwarves of Ul Yazhmotk, in
  return for masterwork arms and ore.
  Cillamar is ruled by the wise Patriarch Ranz Mentzer.
  The Patriarch was once a high priest in the Theocracy of
  the Lance, crusading in the name of good and justice
  across the face of Áereth. Now the aging Patriarch wears
  a long white beard in place of a breastplate, but he is no
  less passionate in his defense of good. The Patriarch wel-
  comes all good and neutral temples to Cillamar, but
  refuses to tolerate practitioners of evil faiths. 
  Within a day’s ride of Cillamar rise the skeletal ruins of
  Whiterock Castle. Lady Chauntessa, a mysterious sorcer-
  ess and the proprietor of the Inn of the Slumbering
  Drake, often hires young adventurers to explore the
  Castle’s labyrinthine dungeons. Local legends tell of a
  fearsome dragon, the great Benthosruthsa, who is said to
  lair in the ruins. Regardless of the truth of the rumors, the
  expeditions are fraught with peril, and few of Lady
  Chauntessa’s expeditions ever return.
  Galaron: (Small city, pop. 8,527) Compared to southern
  metropolises, Galaron is little more than a rural backwa-
  ter, its people simple and seldom given to intrigue. Those
  same “simpletons” will also climb the city walls at the
  first sign of trouble, willingly defending their home to the
  bitter end. This isn’t to say that Galaron doesn’t have its
  share of cheats and con men, but in Galaron even
  scoundrels rally; if the city falls, there is simply nowhere
  else to go.
  The largest city for hundreds of miles in any direction,
  Galaron serves as a waypoint for adventurers riding north
  and east, and for merchants traveling south. The people
  of Galaron are fishermen and hunters, specializing in
  exotic specimens and rare furs. In summer and early fall,
  daring captains can be hired to sail north, dropping
  explorers off on the northern shores. Returning to pick up
  explorers can be something of a challenge, however.
  26
  
  Fierce ice storms can build within hours and last for
  weeks, and the Bay of Dyzan can freeze over with little
  or no warning.
  Despite the hardship of northern life, or perhaps because
  of it, the folk of Galaron are renowned for their lively
  revels. It is said that while every man dies, it takes a war-
  rior from Galaron to sing his own dirge. 
  Far Cirque: (Small town, pop. 1,145) Nestled in the
  base of a high glacier vale, Far Cirque (known as “Far
  Town” to locals) is home to a number of plentiful gem
  mines, accounting for the unusually high population of
  gnomes. The gems are brought down from the high
  mountain mines to be weighed, cut, and polished by mas-
  ter artisans before being shipped to Galaron under heavy
  guard. 
  Local legends tell of a lost mine and an enormous gem
  infused with magical properties. This “mother diamond”
  is said to be responsible for the profusion of gems in the
  surrounding lands, and that if anyone removes the fabled
  stone from the nearby gem mines, all will go dry.
  Far Cirque is ruled by Rorínna Berick, a sharp-witted
  gnomish sorcerer with a knack for spotting thieves and
  cheats. Berick spent her younger years on the wrong side
  of the law, and it is a point of personal honor that the gem
  shipments arrive in Galaron undisturbed.
  Mystenmere: (Small town, pop. 1,890) A quaint village
  overlooking Valfors Bay, Mystenmere enjoys its role as
  gateway to the Anseur Forest (see the Elven Nations).
  Non-elven mages studying with the elves of the Anseur
  often stay in Mystenmere. For their part, the elves of
  Anseur tolerate the presence of Mystenmere, even going
  so far as to offer the protection of the elven nation. For
  many scholars, Mystenmere is the closest they come to
  the Anseur’s hallowed glades.
  Mystenmere is governed by Aragoth, an ancient human
  mage with the unnerving habit of consulting his familiar
  (a gray-haired rat) before making any significant deci-
  sion. Having lived in Mystenmere longer than any can
  recall, Aragoth seems content to live out the end of his
  days (however many that might be) in quiet esoteric con-
  templation. The old man makes his home in an unassum-
  ing tower in the center of town, and those hoping to visit
  the old sage would do well to bring a magical present of
  some sort, and to observe their manners—the old mage
  has been known to make impolite guests wait for weeks
  before admitting them to the tower.
  Ibelot: (Ruined large city, pop. ???) Standing high atop
  the Cliffs of Dyzan, the ruined city of Ibelot is the source
  of much fear among the rulers of Morrain. Explorers who
  have ventured within sight of Ibelot’s ruined walls report
  soaring black towers, bronze domes, and elevated sky-
  ways. Those who step inside the walls are never seen
  again, and fishermen regularly report witnessing wisps of
  smoke curling up from the wells in the center of the city.
  Nos Caen, the Isle of
  (Province of New Kassantia)
  The Great Druid
  Population: 610,390 (humans 67%, elves 14%, half-
  elves 10%, gnomes 4%, others 5%)
  Resources: Timber, furs, slaves, whale oil
  Capital: Folkevern
  T
  he Isle of Nos Caen is the Criestine Empire’s least
  effective attempt to establish a tribute colony. The
  native humans of Nos Caan are an olive-skinned,
  dark-haired folk, the last remaining vestiges of the
  druidic civilization that once stretched across the whole
  of the Northlands. Regarded as sub-humans by Lady
  Mortianna, Vizier of Crieste, the savages of Nos Caen
  have proven more than a match for the armies of Crieste.
  Worse, the occupation has transformed the disorganized
  tribes of Nos Caen into a unified savage horde. What
  began as a simple occupation has grown into a quagmire
  that threatens to engulf all of Crieste. 
  The tribes of Nos Caen are true savages, living in caves
  and simple mud huts, with only a rudimentary under-
  standing of metalworking. This is changing with the com-
  ing of the Crieste army; now the tribes raid the Crieste
  camps for weapons and armor, even burning buildings to
  ash in order to recover nails and metal artifacts.
  For the soldiers tasked with subduing the natives, the
  tribes of Nos Caen have proven to be terrifying foes.
  Donning the bloody skins of animals, the tribes of bar-
  barians attack in the dark of night astride dire war beasts.
  Howling like demons, the tribes know neither fear nor
  pain. The savages use war horns carved from the tusks of
  dire boars to orchestrate their attacks and withdrawals,
  but the savages have taken to blowing the horns simply
  to weaken the morale of the Crieste soldiers.
  The master of Crieste’s forces is General Arion, an aging
  warrior approaching the end of his career. While the gen-
  eral’s heart isn’t in the occupation of the Isle, he is
  unquestionably loyal to the crown and carries out his
  orders to the best of his ability. The general’s lack of pas-
  sion is reported back to the crown by Connence the
  Ashwind, an agent of Lady Mortianna. Unless Arion
  makes gains against the tribes soon, he will be sent back
  to the mainland to finish his career in the dungeons of
  Kassantia.
  27
  
  Folkevern: (Large town, pop. 3,956) While most of the
  Caenan people live in small villges and hamlets, the war
  against Crieste has united the disparate tribes under one
  ruler: the Great Druid of Folkevern. An ancient druidic
  grove, Folkevern has grown into the savages’ chief stag-
  ing ground.
  In recent memory, no non-Caenan has ever returned from
  Folkevern; the only details of the grove are culled from
  old rumors and folktales. Stories whisper of mighty
  standing stones carved with powerful runes, blood sacri-
  fices, and preserved corpses rising from the boggy
  moors. The Great Druid is said to be an ancient man with
  a long white beard that reaches down to his feet, and a
  pair of intelligent ravens that perch on the back of his
  throne. Whether or not the stories are true, it is clear that
  the Caenan tribes have begun to orchestrate their savage
  attacks, and that the natives are commited to forcing the
  Crieste armies from Nos Caen—at any price.
  There are dozens of small Caenan villages and hamlets,
  and five Crieste forts on the isle. The following is a brief
  examination of the most noteworthy settlements. 
  Halsgate Castle: (Large castle, pop 4,010) Nos Caen’s
  chief port, the city of Halsgate is the staging area for all
  supplies and forces sent to the isle. Halsgate Castle is a
  citadel built on the ruins of an old druidic observatory.
  The surrounding city is a cold, dour place, where chim-
  ney smoke seems to linger in a permanent haze, and con-
  stant streams of dead soldiers are borne back from the
  front atop their rent shields.
  General Avion does his best to support his soldiers’
  moral, but at times it seems that the very land conspires
  to thwart Crieste’s forces. The mist-shrouded ruins sur-
  rounding the city and the catacombs beneath her muddy
  streets hint at long-lost secrets. Avion has ordered all
  entrances to the undercity to be barred over, but the earth
  beneath Halsgate is riddled like a rat’s warren. Recently,
  night sentries have begun vanishing. Whether the sol-
  diers are abandoning their posts, or are being slain by
  horrors remains unknown—all Avion can do is double
  the guards and hope for the best. 
  Warringhill: (Small castle, pop. 733) The fort on
  Warringhill is the spearhead of Crieste’s assault on the
  Caenan folk. It has been said that the Criestine soldiers
  live little better than the savages they hope to conquer,
  and this is certainly true of Warringhill, a perennially wet
  fort built atop a rocky outcropping. Veteran soldiers are
  forced to hole up in muddy huts in the spring, cluster
  around smoky fires in the winter, and watch the woods
  with sullen wariness throughout the year.
  New recruits are regularly rotated into the fort, but sol-
  diers seldom leave. Half of all new soldiers stationed at
  Warringhill die in their first month of service. Fully two-
  thirds are dead after three months of duty, and only five
  warriors out of every hundred live out a year. Those that
  survive the tour of duty are deadly warriors with a gift for
  survival, and are considered too precious to be dismissed
  from duty.
  Veterans of Warringhill could easily be mistaken for sav-
  ages, and indeed, many adopt the ways of their enemies,
  doning hide armor when chain and plate armor rusts, and
  forsaking heavy crossbows and unwieldly polearms for
  quicker shortbows, halfspears, and short swords.
  Warringhill is commanded by Thoradin Axewind, a gruff
  veteran with little time for the niceties of civilization.
  Cold and brusque to newcomers, Thoradin takes person-
  al responsibility for every life in his command, leaving
  him little time to entertain fools or braggarts. Thoradin’s
  chilly demeanor warms instantly after witnessing skill on
  the field of battle—but it is the deed, not the word, that
  sways his opinion.
  28
  
  Porthmeor, City-State of 
  Lord Mayor Yughinuss Lorenam
  Population: 35,700 (humans 65%, half-orcs 10%,
  dwarves 9%, elves 8%, monstrous humanoids 4%,
  halflings 4%)
  Resources: Trade, fish, whale oil 
  Capital: The City of Porthmeor 
  A
  free city on an island in the southern Lirean,
  Porthmeor enjoys regular trade with the mer-
  chants of the North as well as the nomadic tribes-
  men of the Southland. In addition, the city serves as the
  easiest access point to submerged Lirean ruins, a constant
  draw to adventurers, sages, and treasure seekers. In this
  case, “easy” is a misnomer, since even the nearest ruins
  are submerged by over fifty feet of water and inhabited
  by foul creatures of the depths. 
  In ancient times, the city-state of Porthmeor fought a bru-
  tal war against a race of aquatic elves. After a decade of
  inconclusive conflict, the elves offered the hand of
  Iasmini, their princess, to Porthmeor’s lord mayor as a
  peace offering. He accepted. A few months after the wed-
  ding had taken place, Iasmini killed her husband and
  most of the court, throwing the city into chaos. Princess
  Iasmini was captured in the final battle, and legend holds
  that her tomb was buried somewhere beneath the city.
  The current lord mayor is a tall, slender man with dark
  eyes and a quick wit, who is known to wander the streets
  of his city in disguise in order to gauge the morale of his
  people. Pirates, some say hailing from Freeport, have
  begun preying upon Porthmeor traders once again, and
  soon something will have to be done. 
  Saramanthia 
  Various barbarian khans
  Population:
  ??? (mostly humans and monstrous
  humanoids)
  Resources: Furs, spices, leather, copper
  Capital: Tiam’tze
  O
  ccupying holy land once coveted by both the
  Abylos and Uru’Nuk nations, Saramanthia is but a
  distant echo of the mighty empires. While Abylos
  and Uru’Nuk were implacable foes, the people of
  Saramanthia exhibit traits of both. Fierce in battle like the
  war-hungry Abylos, and devoted to strange god-totems like
  the religious Uru’Nuk, the people of Sarmanthia embody
  the worst and best of both ancient empires. This integration
  came at the cost of Uru’Nuk’s learning and sophistication;
  the modern Saramanthians are nomadic barbarians that sel-
  dom venture into the gilded cities of old Uru’Nuk.
  Saramanthians range the grassy steppes astride ceratons,
  scaled lizard beasts that run on two legs. The horned cer-
  atons are typically barded in hide armor, but the ceratons
  of chieftains and powerful warriors often sport chain
  barding pieced together from the mail of fallen foes.
  Saramanthian warriors prefer to fight with lances and
  short bows, using scimitars for close combat. Pride,
  honor, and a fast ceraton are a warrior’s greatest assets;
  to insult any of the three is grounds for a duel.
  Inheritance is passed onto the eldest child, forcing many
  second and third born to seek their fortunes abroad. Thus,
  Saramanthians encountered in civilized lands are often
  called “No-zins,” or Thirdsons. Having tasted the sweet
  fruit of civilization, many choose to stay in civilized
  lands. No matter how cultured these barbarians become,
  they still hear the seductive call of the lonesome wind,
  and often return to the high steppe in their final days.
  Tiam’tze: The “capital” of Saramanthia is nothing more
  than a grassy burial mound rising three hundred feet
  above the surrounding plains. Every year on the Spring
  Equinox, the leaders of the tribes assemble on the mound
  to settle blood feuds, arrange marriages, and decide terri-
  torial disputes. Three basalt monoliths atop the mound
  serve as a sophisticated calendar; the foundation stone is
  scribed with an accurate spiral that traces the progress of
  the monoliths’ shadows through the year. Any other sig-
  nificance of the monoliths or of the mound itself remains
  a mystery, but sages warn that in the old Uru’Nuk tongue,
  Tiam’tze translates to “devil-dragon’s blood.” 
  29
  
  Scourgelands
  Tarkhan Khurzog, Master of
  the Scourge
  Population: 3,059,981 (orcs 49%, goblinoids 14%, half-
  orcs 13%, ogres 7%, giants 4%, other 13%)
  Resources: ??? 
  Capital: Hellspawn Keep
  F
  or most of recorded history, the tribes of goblinoid
  raiders that roam the Mirdar-Luminar Steppes had
  been little more than a trifling threat, raiding the
  realms of man when overpopulation—a problem com-
  mon to the barren steppes—forced them to look beyond
  intertribal feuds. Poorly armed, chaotic, and suspicious
  by nature, the raiders seldom campaigned more than two
  hundred leagues beyond their usual hunting grounds.
  Whether they succumbed to the well-armored and disci-
  plined armies of man, dwarf, and elf, or to their own
  infighting, made little difference. The decimated hordes
  would return to the steppes, recoup their numbers after a
  year or three of frantic breeding, and the cycle would
  begin again.
  This changed in the summer of 3195 EC (Empyrean
  Calendar). A ten-year drought had reduced the steppes to
  a tinderbox, decimating the herds of migratory draex and
  reindeer. Late summer lightning set fire to the steppes,
  forcing the hordes of ogres, goblinoids, and giant-kin
  into civilized lands. A single warlord emerged from the
  ensuing storm of chaos and conflict, a monstrous ogre
  mage steeped in sorcerous blood, more cunning than any
  merchant prince—terrible in his wrath and merciless in
  battle. In a single campaign, he hammered the orc-hordes
  into a unified army and swept through the Grand Duchy
  of Leherti, razing the City of Gods, setting fire to the
  ancient libraries of Luxon, forcing a treaty from the
  Criestine Empire, and putting over half the nation to the
  spit. 
  Now the entire known world trembles at the name of
  Tarkhan Khurzog, Master of the Scourge.
  The end of the tale remains to be told. Presently the
  Tarkhan resides in the smoking citadel of Hellspawn
  Keep, gathering mercenary sorcerors, infernal priests,
  and wicked sellswords to his already-formidable army of
  orcs, goblins, and giants. Scholars and generals, eager to
  stave off the seemingly invincible Tarkhan, hotly debate
  the best way to put an end to the mightiest army the
  world has ever known, and they fear the Tarkhan’s wrath
  if they should fail. 
  On the field of battle, the Tarkhan relies upon lighting-
  swift orcish cavalry bolstered by boulder-hurling giants
  and goblin infantry riding into battle on armored draex-
  odons. The Tarkhan has been quick to take advantage of
  his foes’ hubris, turning pride, chivalry, and honor into
  deadly weaknesses. More than one Lehertian general led
  a doomed charge against the horde, expecting the enemy
  lines to break, only to discover the goblins and orcs fear
  their demonspawn general more than the charge of any
  armored knight.
  The following is a brief examination of the most infa-
  mous of the Tarkhan’s holdings. Scholars and generals
  should note that there are certainly other cities, citadels,
  and orc-holds loyal to the Scourge that have yet to be dis-
  covered.
  Hellspawn Keep: (Large citadel, pop. 24,301) A city of
  antediluvian origins, the mountain bastion of the Tarkhan
  is a towering citadel built atop smoking, steaming pits.
  Named Hellspawn Keep by the humans, the fell palace is
  known to the wicked as Azmog-Azmennum. Although
  it’s not the largest of the Scourge’s cities, an explorer
  would be hard pressed to find a greater concentration of
  malefic might in all the Northlands. Goblins labor day
  and night to stir the smoking pits, demons stalk the dark
  halls conveying messages for their infernal masters, leg-
  endary heroes of good are tortured into forswearing their
  noble causes, and constant streams of slaves are sacri-
  ficed to hosts of foul deities.
  At the center of it all sits the mighty Tarkhan Khurzog,
  plotting his next conquest. The Tarkhan has never known
  defeat, and his armies—having tasted the sweet fruits of
  civilization—clamor for war. Ogre mage, sorcerer, and
  fearsome warrior, the blight-fisted commander of the
  Scourge is the undisputed master of all he surveys.
  Spring will bring war, and the Tarkhan will be ready. 
  Ibinfang: (Large castle, pop. 4,200) Ibinfang is the
  adopted home of the Ruin Knights, an order of cultic
  warriors dedicated to bringing about the end of the world.
  Once an obscure cabal in the Grand Duchy of Leherti, the
  coming of the Scourge allowed the abyssal Ruin Knights
  to fully embrace their unholy beliefs. The Tarkhan placed
  the order in Ibinfang in order to keep an eye on them, and
  to ensure that the Scourge reaps the benefits of their
  nightmarish ways.
  So far all has worked as planned. The wicked leaders of
  the cult, former citizens of Leherti, have produced thir-
  teen demonic knights to fight in the service of the
  Tarkhan. How long this pact will stand remains to be
  seen. But for now the goals of the Ruin Knights and the
  Scourge are one and the same, and the Ruin Knights ride
  at the head of the Tarkhan’s armies, heralding dread and
  death to the foes of the Scourge. 
  The Lost Vale: (Unknown, pop. ???) The Valley of
  30
  
  Wistfast was once the ancestral homeland of the gnomish
  peoples. Isolated from most of the other humanoid races,
  the gnomes pursued a life of peace and solitude, mining
  the rich veins of gems and gold, developing their peculiar
  magics, and encouraging a gentle balance between nature
  and craft.
  That solitude and independence led to the gnomes’down-
  fall. Many hundreds of years ago, the fell mage Tsathzar
  Rho unleashed an army of enslaved creatures upon the
  valley, and with few allies to call on, the gnomes were
  slaughtered by the advancing horde. Once the gnomes
  were all scattered or dead, Tsathzar Rho dismissed his
  army and set about collecting the seven sacred gems of
  the Gnomish Lords. What Tsathzar Rho did with the
  fabled gems remains a mystery, and the gnomes have
  been a race of wanderers to this day. 
  The fate of the valley is also unknown. Soaked in the
  blood of the gnome race and tainted by the touch of
  demons, the Lost Vale sinks further and further into the
  shadowed mire of the forgotten past. 
  Morazuin: (Metropolis, pop. 127,020) Were not fully
  half of Morazuin underground, it would be the single
  largest city in the Northlands, a fact that taunts many a
  human sage. Even considering only the surface portion,
  Morazuin ranks among the great cities of the North.
  Home to the armies of orcs and goblinoids that now
  swarm the lands of Leherti, Morazuin is a foul cauldron
  of activity. Goblin builders work feverishly to construct
  new siege engines, orc generals train their wards into
  ferocious warriors, and mercenary sellswords and mages
  arrive daily.
  While Azmog-Azmennum is mythic in its might,
  Morazuin is impossibly large. The Tarkhan has prohibit-
  ed building outside the city’s fabled iron walls, so the
  orcs and goblinoids settled on building up. The city is
  under constant construction, level stacked upon level like
  the haphazard accretion of soil after a flood. At night, the
  smokey fires of Morazuin rise like bitter stars struggling
  to climb back into the firmament, the highest levels indis-
  tinguishable from the night sky.
  A city as large as Morazuin cannot exist for long.
  Currently, the orcs thrive off the spoils of Leherti and the
  flesh of thousands of slaves. But in the next five years,
  the population of Morazuin will double, and plundered
  resources of Leherti will dry up. Driven by hunger and an
  insatiable lust for violence, the armies of Morazuin will
  spill out onto the plains like a horde of demonic locust,
  destroying all in their path. Some scholars fear that this
  cycle is but one part of the Tarkhan’s fell plan, but most
  discount this theory as too orchestrated to be the work of
  a simple ogre-magus. The truth of the matter remains to
  be seen.
  Yazh’mon: (Small city, pop. 11,980) Every army needs
  its weapons and armor, and the Scourge is no exception.
  Orc and goblinoid hordes have traditionally suffered
  from poor arms. Part of the Scourge’s success is due to
  the quality of their armor and weapons. While many of
  the Scourge’s goblins still fight with improvised weapons
  and scavenged armor, the orcs, giants, and large gobli-
  noids are all outfitted with arms equal to that of most
  human armies. Orcish officers and even some of the
  giants even carry masterwork or magical arms, many of
  which were forged in the perpetual fires of Yazh’mon.
  The forges of Yazh’mon smoke constantly, casting a
  sooty pall over the countryside. Hundreds of smiths, sup-
  ported by thousands of assistants, work day and night to
  turn out implements of destruction. The land surrounding
  the city is barren; every last tree and shrub has been taken
  to fuel the forge fires, and an army of Lehertian slaves
  bring in the tons of ore needed for smelting. 
  Key to Yazh’mon’s success is the efreeti Imiz-kil, and his
  legion of salamanders. How the Tarkhan managed to
  secure their labor is a matter of much debate and conster-
  nation. The Scourge’s deadliest weapons were all forged
  in the pits of Yazh’mon, and the finest among them bear
  the mark of the efreeti’s work: a wavy, black watermark
  and a serrated edge that sings when tasting living flesh.
  31
  
  Soulgrave, Free City of 
  Boss Bomar
  Population: 8,809 (humans 61%, half-orcs 12%, half-
  elves 8%, dwarves 6%, halflings 6%, elves 2%, others
  5%)
  Resources: None 
  Capital: Soulgrave 
  T
  he true Soulgrave (see Soulgrave, the below) is a
  burial site too sacred to be claimed by any one
  nation. The Criestine Empire has always protected
  this independent status, partly out of a desire to honor the
  dead buried at Soulgrave, and partly out of fear of those
  same dead. By declaring the Soulgrave, and all lands
  within two leagues, to be neutral territory, Crieste opened
  the way for the Free City of Soulgrave.
  Originally a waystation for priests and burial processions
  en route to the Soulgrave, the Free City has grown into a
  sprawling, lawless town. A territory unto itself, the Free
  City has become a haven for criminals fleeing Crieste
  and surrounding nations. While still a waystation with
  porter services, hostelries, and outfitters, the Free City is
  also a town of gambling dens, brothels, and black mar-
  kets.
  The streets of Soulgrave reflect the city’s lawless citizen-
  ry. Most buildings are temporary and are built with no
  regard for city planning, creating a maze of alleys and
  dead-end streets. Well-to-do visitors are advised to bring
  bodyguards for their protection, and to avoid the local
  thugs offering the same services. There is an informal
  city watch, but the men of the watch are accustomed to
  enforcing rules as they see fit, or even creating them on
  the spot. A well-placed bribe can accomplish much, but if
  rogues scent a fat purse, it may take a well-placed dagger
  to ward off danger. The fabled Black Dougal is said to
  have been born in the Free City, and some guild thieves
  even accuse the rogue of running the Free City, but
  Dougal hasn’t been seen in some time and is presumed
  dead.
  Currently, justice (such as it is) is meted out by Boss
  Bomar, a barrel-chested half-orc known for his crude
  sense of humor and unpredicatable temper. While Bomar
  doesn’t run this city so much as balance atop it, he is the
  one to go to when looking for something, or someone, in
  the Free City. As is often said in such places, visitors
  should always keep one hand on their purse, and one on
  their blade.
  Soulgrave, the 
  Ranosh, Prince of Undeath
  Population: —
  Resources: —
  Capital: — 
  A
  ges ago, the Soulgrave was nothing more than a
  high mountain valley where druids of yore
  brought their fallen heroes. The greatest of the
  dead were given sky burials: The bodies were cut up by
  initiates, and offered to the enormous black vultures that
  make their home in the nearby peaks. When the powers
  of the druids waned, the site was adopted by regents who
  built tombs and catacombs for their royal families.
  Slowly, the valley was transformed into a vast necropo-
  lis, with each new ruling family adding to the city of the
  dead. A mighty wall and great iron gate were erected.
  Everflaming braziers were placed atop empty towers, and
  the mountain trails were widened into uniform roads.
  After dusk, the graves crack their musty shells and the
  dead walk the city. Whether or not the risen corpses are
  tormented undead or something else altogether is a ques-
  tion best left to theologians, for the creatures surely have
  a hunger for the living. Legends tell of Ranosh, a vampire
  who speaks for the undead citizens of Soulgrave.
  Accounts paint Ranosh as neither evil nor good, but sim-
  ply devoted to Soulgrave as hallowed ground, and he is
  perfectly willing to kill the living to inspire respect for
  the city of the dead.
  Southern Province, the 
  Trayr Sains, Overlord of the
  South, Master of Heaven and
  Earth, Dragon of the Lirean
  Sea, etc., etc.
  Population: 2,462,900 (humans 73%, half-orcs 9%,
  half-elves 7%, dwarves 6%, other 5%)
  Resources: Slaves, spices, black market trade, copper,
  timber 
  Capital: Punjar
  O
  ne hundred and thirty years ago, the Province
  was simply the largest of the empire’s many
  fiefs. In a revolution led by a cunning and
  aggressive lord-baron, the Province seceded from the
  empire, setting the example for all the kingdoms,
  32
  
  provinces, and colonies that rushed to independence in
  the years to come.
  Today the Southern Province stands as a mirror to the
  Criestine Empire. While Crieste is mired in the bureau-
  cratic quagmire of a millennium-old aristocracy, the
  Province is home to the young and ambitious guild hous-
  es; while Crieste seeks to govern every aspect of the
  economy, the Province lets the houses do the work and
  taxes their profits; while Crieste is a pondering behemoth
  of military might, the Province is a nimble player of eco-
  nomic and political intrigues.
  Wealth is everything in the Southern Province. Those that
  have it—and more importantly, can keep it—are envied
  and respected by all. 
  The present ruler is Trayr Sains, a cunning man who had
  the good fortune of being a bastard son of imperial blood.
  The child of a discarded harem concubine, Sains fought
  his way out of the vicious slums of Punjar, working his
  way from petty thief to slayer to guild master. Boss Sains
  was coronated Overking after the notorious Night of the
  Long Knives, when fully two-thirds of the Southern
  Province’s nobility were assassinated and replaced with
  royal-blooded representatives of the guild houses. When
  the sun rose on the blood-soaked capital, the surviving
  nobles who were willing to openly declare the virtues of
  law and good were few and far between. Sains’ claim to
  the Dragonskull Throne is laughable at best, but it pro-
  vides the veil of legitimacy necessary for the Province’s
  political skullduggery.
  The Southern Province challenges the Criestine Empire’s
  dominance of the sea lanes by trading in slaves, dark
  idols, and every other sort of contraband. Very little is
  deemed illegal, and nearly every crime can be ameliorat-
  ed with a bag of gangling coins. With no navy to speak
  of, the Province issues letters of marque authorizing pri-
  vateers to fly Province colors and prey on Imperial ships.
  This informal sea force is little better than a band of
  pirates, but there is little the Imperial Navy can do to halt
  the practice, barring a full-scale invasion of every
  Province port.
  Azur: (Small city, pop. 6,100) The Southern Province’s
  answer to dweomer-rich Kassantia, Azur is known as the
  City of the Archmage. Dismissed with amusement by
  many, the city streets swarm with scheming mages eager
  to assume the title of Magister of Azur. What the city’s
  rulers lack in arcane power, they make up in ambition
  and ruthlessness.
  Azur is divided into three wards situated about the grim
  castle named the Host of Five Towers. The city openly
  openly welcomes temples and shrines devoted to fell
  powers; priests make blood sacrifices over smoking pits
  during the day, and demons stalk the streets at night. 
  With no law enforcement to speak of, each mage
  employs a personal retinue of bodyguards and enforcers.
  Commoners are left to fend for themselves, dependent
  upon the whims of the mages for safety. For these rea-
  sons, mercenary humanoids are a common sight in Azur,
  ranging from half-orc assassins to ogre-magi bodyguards
  and hill giant thugs.
  Jolzin: (Large town, 4,814) Jolzin is the Province’s pri-
  mary source of timber, employing a number of expend-
  able goblins to operate the city’s lumber mills. Skilled
  shipwrights are in high demand, as are adventurers will-
  ing to defend the forest paths from rebellious fae and
  elves.
  The town is ruled by a ruthless hobgoblin cleric-warrior
  going by the title of Vendig the Destroyer.
  Kastulo: (Small city, pop. 8,092) The city of Kastulo
  thrives on black market trade with the pirates of the
  Barrier Isles. An open air bazaar is host to any number of
  disreputable merchants doubling as fences, and known
  pirate ships regularly drop anchor in the city’s deep-
  water harbor.
  The city’s lords maintain order with the Worm Guard, a
  police force composed entirely of undead and their evil
  masters. Members of the Worms are outfitted in red-
  stained breastplates and are typically armed with
  polearms and heavy crossbows. Rumors allege that the
  master of the Worm Guard is a powerful lich. 
  Castle Mortis: (Citadel, pop. 6,700) Seen from the sea,
  the spires of Castle Mortis rise from the rocky cliffs like
  dark spears. The citadel is home to a fleet of black-sailed
  33
  
  ships, privateers that sack and pillage for the Overlord.
  Its forces are led by Lady Soraline, a cruel, conniving
  blackguard trained in the arts of dark wizardry. Lady
  Soraline secretly covets the title of Overlord. She careful-
  ly monitors politics of Punjar, looking for her chance to
  seize power. 
  Punjar: (Metropolis, pop. 75,100) Largest of all the
  cities in the Northlands, Punjar is also among the most
  dangerous. Her chaotic, sandy streets, torturous alley-
  ways, and dense buildings are encircled by more than a
  dozen walls, each built to encompass the city in an earli-
  er time. Now the walls serve to divide the city into wards,
  each less affluent, more densely populated, and more
  desperate than the last. In the center of the city, atop a
  high ridge, stands the palace of the Overlord, the dark
  spider at the center of a vast web.
  Of the many disreputable guilds laired in Punjar, the most
  notorious and far-reaching is the brotherhood of assassins
  known as the Slayers. Feared throughout the known
  world, rumors attribute supernatural abilities to the
  Slayers, including the ability to walk through walls and
  cloud the minds of their targets. Some rumors even go so
  far as to suggest that the Slayers were directly responsi-
  ble for the Night of the Long Knives. Even if none of the
  rumors are true, it may be said with certainty that the
  Slayers maintain spy rings that operate throughout the
  world.
  Whole volumes have been written on the labyrinthine
  intrigues of Punjar, and it serves no purpose to recount
  those plots here. Suffice it to note that every citizen con-
  spires to get ahead in Punjar, and each one plans to do it
  standing on the backs of his neighbors. 
  Taktian: (Small city, pop. 10,832) A southern gateway to
  the Lost Lands, the city of Taktian is a city of dark
  bazaars, crowded marketplaces, and smokey dives. Host
  to diverse mix of sharp-eyed traders, strange warriors
  from the exotic South, and Northland traders looking to
  make their fortune, the city is the last stop for supplies
  before crossing into the Great Desert.
  Taktian is ruled by a trio of secretive mage-lords. All
  three wear featureless black robes and porcelain masks,
  concealing their identities. At least one of the three is
  believed to be a woman, and all are accomplished evok-
  ers. 
  Sylvan Downs 
  Council of Five (Ilyarin es
  Nost, Speaker for the Council)
  Population: 257,205 (half-elves 34%, elves 28%,
  humans 20%, halflings 8%, gnomes 6%, other 4%)
  Resources: Timber, weapons, spices 
  Capital: Oakenmeet
  A
  loose collection of small dales, hamlets, and vil-
  lages, the Sylvan Downs is a humble nation of
  farmers, woodsmen, and retiring elves. With no
  single king, cities, or armies to speak of, the people of the
  Downs are often dismissed as simple, rural bumpkins.
  And indeed, their virtues are simple ones: freedom, hap-
  piness, and a life lived in harmony with the seasons.
  This humility should not be mistaken for meekness.
  Living in the shadow of the Mountain King, the elves and
  men of the Downs are regularly forced to take up arms in
  the defense of their homes. Many aging heroes make
  their home in the quiet Downs and eagerly lend their
  swords and spells to the fight. Roused, the folk of the
  Downs make a relentless foe, and friends in need could
  not ask for a better ally.
  When a major decision is needed, the five largest com-
  munities sends their leaders to Oakenmeet, an ancient
  circle of standing stones dating back to the druidic priest-
  kings. There, beneath the open sky and before all who
  attend, the Council of Five rule on the matters of state,
  always working toward the good of the people. The
  Council makes its decisions by consensus; if any one
  council member stands in opposition, the measure fails.
  This can be a slow and aggravating process for foreign
  ambassadors accustomed to dealing with kings and
  regents, but despite its flaws, the process has one crucial
  virtue: there are no dissenters in the Downs. When an
  issue is decided, the people of the Sylvan Downs move
  as one.
  Aside from raw materials, the greatest resource of the
  Sylvan Downs is its people. Master swordsmen live as
  humble farmers, aging wizards pass their last days in the
  sun-dappled glades, and elven lord-rangers stalk the dark
  woods. Apprentices seeking masters need look no fur-
  ther—if they can convince the masters of their worth.
  34
  
  Ternyziem, Free City of 
  Turoch Mas, Overlord of
  Ternyziem, Master of the
  Endless Wastes
  Population: 438,250 (humans 57%, half-elves 10%,
  half-orcs 8%, elves 7%, dwarves 7%, halflings 5%,
  gnomes 4%, other 2%)
  Resources: Timber, copper, furs 
  Capital: Ternyziem
  K
  nown as the City at the End of the World, the
  Free City of Ternyziem stands sentry over the
  Frost Barrens, amid snowbound forests and
  white-capped fjords. Sharp-eyed archers stand atop the
  city’s high towers, alongside mighty siege weapons. The
  skulls of remorhazes, white dragons, frost worms, and
  worse ring the battered towers, and each season brings
  new trophies.
  The men and women of Ternyziem revel in the dangers
  associated with the City at the End of the World, and
  few—if any—of the Free City’s populace travel without
  at least a spear or fighting dagger at their side. Many are
  drawn to the lands surrounding Ternyziem for their rich
  resources. A brave heart and quick blade go far in the icy
  north, and many adventurers have returned laden with
  gems, exotic furs, and ancient magics. Of course, many
  more never return, their corpses frozen to the white tun-
  dra, or dragged into the lair of one of the many fierce arc-
  tic beasts. Despite the many dangers, heroes and adven-
  turers continue to stream north, eager to take their place
  among Ternyziem’s heroes of legend.
  Less recognized by scholars and bards is that many of
  Ternyziem’s citizens actually hale from the north. The
  Free City has a fluid population of savage barbarians who
  come to trade furs and knowledge in exchange for
  weapons and armor. When the barbarians stay, they are
  slowly immersed in the ways of civilization (or at least,
  what passes for civilization in Ternyziem), and nearly all
  of the Free City’s native-born citizens can lay claim to
  barbarian blood.
  Unique to the Free City is a shadowy order of wizards
  and sorcerers. Called the Sightless, the group has no for-
  mal name; their moniker is earned by the cult’s practice
  of blinding their members. The lowest rank of initiates
  wear elaborate eyepatches, but the higher ranks actually
  pluck out their own eyes. Even more curious is their mas-
  ter: a mage with bare, unmarked flesh where both miss-
  ing eyes should be. Local tales hold that by giving up
  physical sight in elaborate rituals, the Sightless gain
  “inner sight,” but the order is so secretive—and the ritu-
  al so bizarre—that the truth of these claims has not been
  independently established.
  Ternyziem is defended by the Reavers, a ragtag company
  of motley soldiers and rogues. Despite their lack of for-
  mal organization, and any sort of uniform whatsoever,
  the Reavers take great pride in the defense of Ternyziem
  and the nearby realms. They have devoted themselves to
  the service of the common citizen. It is not uncommon to
  see a burly, hide-armored barbarian, great sword slung
  over his shoulder, stopping to check in on a shepherd’s
  flock, or helping to repair a wall. 
  Ternyziem’s present ruler is Turoch Mas, an enormous
  bear of a man. Mas spent his youth ranging across the
  wild north, warring with and against the barbarian tribes,
  hunting the giant frost worms, and exploring the frozen
  ruins that dot the wastes. Now Mas spends his days rul-
  ing Ternyziem—the city is his one true love. Mas’ belly
  is a little larger for the years, but he still carries a mighty
  bastard sword over his shoulder side, and he is still the
  first to the wall when terrors threaten the Free City.
  Kyarovsk: (Village, pop. 480) Kyarovsk is typical of the
  half-dozen or so outlying towns that pay allegiance to the
  Free City. It is a hard life, living in the frozen North, and
  the village’s trappers and traders are a rowdy, rough-cut
  crew. Law and courtesy carries little weight here, and
  every man (and the rare woman) is expected to be able to
  take care of himself.
  Uthur, Kingdom of 
  His most Royal Majesty, King
  Rolward, First Knight of Uthur 
  Population: 338,910 (humans 67%, dwarves 10%, half-
  elves 9%, half-orcs 5%, elves 4%, other 5%)
  Resources: Timber, silver, gems 
  Capital: Talisade
  T
  he Kingdom of Uthur is blessed with abundant
  natural resources, but this wealth comes at a price.
  The threat of goblinoids has forced good King
  Rolward to rely heavily on dwarven mercenaries to aug-
  ment his own armies. This has led to a tenuous situation,
  with the king beholden to mercenary captains to keep
  peace in his own land. Rolward walks a fine line, strug-
  gling to placate both the mercenaries and his own armies,
  but it is only a matter of time before an ambitious gener-
  al from either side attempts to take the crown by force,
  plunging the nation into chaos and war.
  35
  
  Ironvale: (Large castle, pop. 3,806) A mining settlement
  squatting at the base of the Dünerain Mountains, over
  half the citizens of Ironvale are dwarves. The town is also
  the headquarters for the Company of the Long Axe, the
  chief mercenary company responsible for maintaining
  order in Uthur. The town’s current mayor, Feald Thordo,
  was selected in a hurried election when the last mayor
  vanished after criticizing the Company. A retiring shop-
  keeper, Thordo has been careful not to make the same
  mistake. 
  The Company of the Long Axe is led by Duruth the
  Ogrebane, a vengeful dwarven warrior renowned for his
  fiery temper and ferocious skill in battle. Duruth bears a
  secret animosity towards the Rolward family, dating back
  to when King Rolward’s grandfather failed to provide
  assistance to dwarves caught in a collapsed mine.
  Duruth’s older brother was lost in the mining accident,
  and the young dwarf has bided his time ever since, wait-
  ing for his chance to bring the Rolward family to ruin.
  Stagdale: (Small town, pop. 1,933) Standing within
  bowshot of the Amn’crith Forest, Stagdale has always
  been regarded as a simple trading post and waystation for
  timber merchants on their way to Crieste. That changed
  when a troupe of woodcutters returned with a slim metal
  disk roughly the size of a shield and covered in glowing
  runes. Curiously, the disk bore no signs of age, as if it had
  been forged and enchanted the day before.
  Four of the disks have been found in the woods now, and
  the elders of Stagdale have begun acting strangely and
  often spend their nights in secret council. Members of the
  Ordo Arcana have been seen about the town, but the mys-
  tery of Stagdale remains unsolved.
  Talisade: (Large town, pop. 4,154) Talisade sits on the
  hillside beneath the watchful eye of Castle Oakthorn,
  home to King Rolward and his family. The people of
  Talisade are simple, hardworking peasants and craftspeo-
  ple, loyal to their king and country, and the town prospers
  as a result of their labors.
  Talisade is also home to the League of the Rook, a loose
  association of heroes working towards the betterment of
  Uthur and the Northlands. When every avenue has been
  exhausted, and he has nowhere else to turn, King
  Rolward knows that he can always turn to the League for
  help. The official register of Rooks is kept secret, but best
  estimates put their numbers between seventy-five and
  one hundred and fifty. Members of the League can be
  recognized by the onyx raven pins they carry pinned to
  the inside of their cloaks or to the pommels of their
  weapons, but bards tell of Rooks forsaking the pins to
  operate in secret.
  Every winter, the town of Talisade hosts Frostfall, a
  weeklong tournament devoted to tests of strength and
  martial skill, culminating in a joust attended by the finest
  knights of the Northlands. The winner of the tournament
  is awarded a silver lance and shield, and often an invita-
  tion to serve in the king’s elite guard. The tournament is
  regarded as a proving ground for young warriors, and
  warriors who comport themselves well can expect to be
  courted by royal emissaries offering prestigious appoint-
  ments in the armies of Crieste, the Theocracy of the
  Lance, or even distant Koranth. 
  Theocracy of the Lance
  His Holiness, the Bishop of the
  Shining Lance 
  Population: 2,346,500 (humans 62%, half-elves 13%,
  dwarves 7%, elves 5%, halflings 7%, gnomes 4%, half-
  orcs 2%)
  Resources: Fine trade goods, art 
  Capital: Arvale City
  T
  he Theocracy began as a small monastery devoted
  to reverent study of the aspects of Aristemis,
  Justicia, Thormir, and Ghoran. Together, these
  deities made up what monks called the “Lance” of law
  and goodness.
  In time, the monastery grew in power and esteem within
  the Crieste imperial court. With each passing year,
  Emperor Lyonod relied more and more on the monks to
  negotiate disputes between provinces. In the final years
  of his life, the emperor became a deeply religious man,
  awarding the Theocracy with sovereignty over its lands,
  including the right to maintain a standing army.
  The Theocracy flourished during the Interregnum, grow-
  ing strong in the absence of imperial dominance.
  Armored priests and holy warriors patrolled the nation’s
  borders, while wise theocrats ruled from Arvale City. The
  peace and stability attracted skilled craftsmen and arti-
  sans from neighboring countries, and the confluence of
  talent and wealth resulted in a flourishing of arts, the one
  source of light and truth during the dark time between
  emperors.
  While the folk of the Lance are no more pious than any
  other folk, the ruling caste of the Lance have sworn their
  lives to the service of good. The country is governed by
  his Holiness, the Bishop, who rules with the blessing of
  the Theocrats, holy men and women currently numbering
  thirty-three. The Theocrats are served by three sects, each
  representing an aspect of the revered Lance.
  The first is the order of the Chosen, a sect of monastic
  priests who have forsaken lives of peace and contempla-
  36
  
  tion for those of conflict and loss. The Chosen serve as
  ambassadors throughout the Northlands, acting as objec-
  tive negotiators and unbiased judges. Surprisingly to
  some scholars, certain Chosen also serve the countries of
  the North as unprejudiced executioners. This particular
  sect wears black helmets that conceal their features, and
  are practiced in the use of the greatsword or greataxe.
  These missions of service have earned the Chosen much
  esteem and much enmity; Chosen are frequently targeted
  for assassinations, forcing the disciples of peace to be
  accomplished warriors, equally at ease on the battlefield
  or in the imperial court. Between assignments, the
  Chosen return to their order’s abbey, in Arvale City.
  The second order is the Knighthood of the Lance. Holy
  warriors dedicated to justice and honor, the Knights of
  the Lance ride far afield, seeking out injustice, defending
  the helpless, and sacrificing their lives in the service of
  good. The Knights of the Lance adhere to a strict code of
  honor and law, but this code often runs counter to the
  autocratic wishes of wicked tyrants; bureaucrats hoping
  to use unjust laws to bend knights to their will are often
  unpleasantly surprised. The Knights of the Lance make
  their headquarters in Brighthawk Castle, but ride far
  afield in service of good.
  The final sect is simply known as the Black Watch.
  Vilified by many and understood by few, the Black
  Watch is a secretive order of holy warriors who dedicate
  their lives to ridding the world of evil. Made up of demon
  hunters, vampire slayers, and others devoted to their
  obscure shadow war, the Black Watch are often depicted
  as obsessed madmen willing to adopt any means to
  achieve their goals. Whether or not this is true, it cannot
  be disputed that when terrible villains emerge from the
  shadows to threaten the Northlands, the tormented souls
  of the Black Watch are the first to rise to the challenge. 
  Arvale City: (Metropolis, pop. 32,450) The city of
  Arvale is one of the great wonders of civilization. Every
  graceful arch, every shining tower, every flawless dome,
  was conceived, designed, and built to exalt the glory of
  good. A city of golden palaces and broad promenades,
  Arvale is rightfully home to the Theocrats and their
  agents, the Chosen.
  Also inhabited by some of the most brilliant craftsmen
  and artisans ever known, Arvale is the source of the finest
  items in the North. The master craftsmen congregate in
  salons and universities, furthering the disciplines of
  magic and the young field known as science. The
  Theocrats encourage all such learning, confident in their
  belief that all of creation points to the truth and power of
  good.
  Blessings-Be: (Small town, pop. 915) The town of
  Blessings-Be is located near the expansive Ferahn Forest,
  nestled along White Tip Lake. The town has a thriving
  fishing trade, but is best known for its proximity to the
  Mourning Cave, an important holy site for pilgrims of the
  lawful god Honorus.
  The Mourning Cave bears several holy relics, as well as
  the entombed body of Arden Brightheart, a paladin of
  Honorus. Arden fell in battle many years ago against the
  Dread Watcher, an undead diviner who could see into the
  future through necromantic rituals. The Dread Watcher
  was an important seer in Albrecht Skullshank’s employ.
  The Sword of Conviction, Arden Brightheart’s legendary
  blade, was used to battle the Dread Watcher. With a dying
  effort, Arden drove his holy blade into the creature, pin-
  ning him to the wall of the cave. The magic of the sword
  bound the Dread Watcher to a state of torpor, preventing
  the creature from regenerating or fleeing.
  Unfortunately, the Sword of Conviction has been
  removed by a greedy local man, not knowing the sword’s
  role in keeping the Dread Watcher bound. The Dread
  Watcher awoke, slew the man, and quickly summoned
  undead to assist him in his duties.
  The Dread Watcher stripped the trappings of Arden
  Brightheart and hid the paladin’s remains deep in the bow-
  els of the cave. Today he sits upon a crude throne of pure
  white marble—but now wearing Arden’s tabard and armor. 
  Wearing the paladin’s regalia has tricked the townsfolk
  into mistaking the Dread Watcher for their patron hero.
  The holy symbol of Honorus and the Sword of
  Conviction are suspiciously absent, however.
  37
  
  Brighthawk Castle: (Large castle, pop. 4,070) Watching
  from atop the shining towers of Brighthawk Castle, the
  Knights of the Lance are pictures of selfless nobility and
  true chivalry. Led by General Arenal, the Knights of the
  Lance travel the length and breadth of the Northlands,
  taking the battle to the enemy. Arenal’s current focus is
  the Scourge, and she works tirelessly to raise men and
  gold for the retaking of Leherti. Always on the lookout
  for valiant and courageous heroes, Lady Arenal offers
  secret bounties for leaders of the Scourge. This practice
  runs counter to the beliefs of the Theocrats, and if they
  discover the general’s work, her passion could be her
  undoing. 
  Fair Haven: (Village, pop. 550) A prosperous port on the
  Lirean Sea, Fair Haven enjoys a small cove sheltered
  from all but the fiercest of the sea’s storms. The village
  maintains a trio of docks, used by local fishermen and the
  occasional merchant galley.
  Fairweather: (Village, pop. 425) A small, druidic com-
  mune, Fairweather provides nearby townships and vil-
  lages with fresh produce and milk, and it boasts the most
  successful farms in the region. The small community is
  also respected for the high quality of its manufactured
  wooden goods. Staves, bows, and arrows, as well as
  some farming tools, are culled from specially cultivated
  trees. The woodworkers of the community produce only
  a limited amount of these masterwork items in a given
  year, readily commanding high prices from enterprising
  merchants.
  The commune’s leader, Thistle, is a sentient plant being
  of a race known as the thornblood, and is a powerful
  druid in his own right. Thistle has come to the aid of
  heroes on numerous occasions, providing them with shel-
  ter, food, and healing in his humble home.
  Orden: (Small town, pop. 1,930) The last Lancean outpost
  on the caravan route to the East, Orden maintains close ties
  with its trading partner, the town of Lastever. Together the
  two maintain the mountain fortress of Whitefang, warding
  off the predations of bandits and worse. 
  Whitefang: (Keep, pop. 450) Standing atop the pass
  between the towns of Lastever and Orden, Whitefang
  Castle is a small but mighty stronghold built with the
  cooperation of both communities. Caravans crossing
  through the Dragonspire Mountains must travel through
  this pass, and pay a small toll for the protection of
  Whitefang.
  In the three years Whitefang has stood, the depredations
  of the nearby humanoids have been severely checked,
  and merchants may now travel safely through Aurora
  Pass. A relief of fresh soldiers arrives every month like
  clockwork, and supplies are purchased from caravans
  passing through as needed. 
  The keep’s severe castellan, Lord Malvolth, hires adven-
  turers as scouts and outriders to root out the tribes of gob-
  lins and orcs that lair in the nearby caves. The outriders
  suffer a high rate of attrition, but in Lord Malvolth’s eyes,
  a dead adventurer doesn’t draw a wage, and there are
  always foolhardy young whelps eager to make a name for
  themselves in the Dragonspire Mountains.
  Woodroe: (Thorp, pop. 40) Woodroe is a tiny village,
  with only seven buildings lining the sides of a single,
  woefully bumpy dirt track. Fields of wheat and apple
  orchards surround Woodroe, and the town’s lone inn dou-
  bles as a general store.
  Thire, Free Province of 
  Lady Aedwyn Cyrean,
  Warden of the Folk
  Population: 308,920 (humans 44%, elves 18%, dwarves
  12%, halflings 10%, half-elves 8%, gnomes 5%, other
  3%)
  Resources: Furs, timber
  Capital: Hath Hall 
  S
  ince its bid for freedom one hundred years ago,
  Thire has walked a fine line between supporting
  Crieste in the constant struggle against the forces
  of evil, and maintaining its separation from the old
  empire. Fortunately for Thire, its people are a hardy,
  stubborn folk, with little use for any ruler whose reach
  extends further than a town council and the arc of a long-
  bow. 
  The ruler of Thire is a charismatic half-elf named
  Aedwyn Cyrean, a warden respected for her woodsense
  and quiet wisdom. Young by half-elven standards, the
  maid rules from Hath Hall, a manor overlooking the fer-
  tile lowlands that stretch all the way to the Lirean Sea.
  Gossipmongers hint at a scandalous romance between
  Cyrean and Captain Sentri, Master of the Sable March; if
  the rumors are true, it could lead to a clash that would
  threaten the thrones of both nations.
  Argalis: (Large town, pop. 4,705) Argalis is typical of
  Thire’s coastal towns, with a small but well-developed
  port, stout walls for defense, and a devoted corp of
  marines and city watchmen. The town is governed by
  Lord McDurmott, a stalwart defender of the town with an
  abiding hatred for pirates and their kin. The people of
  Argalis pay regular tribute to a band of giants, but in
  recent months these relations have deteriorated, and the
  lord has begun casting about for hardy adventurers will-
  ing to take on the giant horde. 
  38
  
  Hath Hall: (Small town, 1,806) Small and unassuming,
  Hath Hall rests at the confluence of two rivers which
  meet to form a raging waterfall that crashes and rolls
  down several hundred feet to a lake below. Hath Hall sits
  like a watchful dragon atop the falls, surrounded by
  clouds of rolling mist and the thundering rivers. Crafted
  almost entirely from soaring wooden beams, polished
  river stones, and living trees, the manor is far more
  majestic and awe-inspiring than its size would indicate. 
  As the capital of Thire, Hath Hall is home to the land’s
  Warden Queen and her guard of silver-mailed warriors.
  Hath Hall is also host to a number of accomplished elven
  and half-elven wizards, and even the occasional reclusive
  druid can be found within its quiet corridors. 
  Without a true standing army to defend her people, the
  Lady of the Falls is constantly on the lookout for prom-
  ising young adventurers who have proven themselves to
  be faithful and courageous in the face of danger. 
  Garland’s Fork: (Thorp, pop. 51) A small trading settle-
  ment in the heart of Stagwood forest, Garland’s Fork
  serves as a trading post for the woodsmen and huntsmen
  of the forest, and as a welcome place of rest for weary
  travelers. The town is composed of a handful of small
  farmhouses, a blacksmith’s shop, and a small inn.
  Longdale: (Large town, pop. 3,207) A walled town sur-
  rounded by a vale of lush farmland, Longdale is situated
  at the foot of the Trolltooth Peaks and weathers regular
  attacks from monsters, humanoids, and worse. There are
  several mining communities within a day’s ride of the
  town, and a regular stream of silver, gold, and gems
  pours into Longdale before being carried by caravans
  south to Hath Hall and Rockport. Longdale enjoys an
  unusually high population of gnomes, dwarves, and
  halflings, and most inns and merchants make certain to
  accommodate the wee folk.
  Rockport: (Large town, pop. 3,250) Rockport overlooks
  the Lirean Sea and welcomes traders and merchants from
  across the Known Realms. Built around a stout citadel
  known as the Raven’s Roost, the town is divided into
  four wards separated by imposing stone walls. Each ward
  caters to a slightly higher (and richer) class of citizen,
  and much can be learned about a citizen of Rockport sim-
  ply by finding out where he lives.
  Rockport is ruled by a council of the town’s leading
  guilds, who elect a single lord mayor every four years.
  The present lord mayor is Khalrik Canagur, a scarred
  man who is reputed to have spent the early years of his
  life as a cutpurse and thief. Regardless of the truth of the
  rumors, Canagur has proven to be a shrewd and cunning
  ruler, capable of juggling the diverse—and oft times
  opposed—interests of Rockport. 
  Warlands, Baronies of the
  Various barons
  Population: 310,780 (humans 67%, half-elves 9%, half-
  orcs 7%, dwarves 5%, elves 3%, gnomes 2%, halflings
  2%, other 5%)
  Resources: Sporadic at best 
  Capital: Varies by ruler
  O
  ne hundred years ago, the rolling plains and rich
  steppes of the Warlands were a part of the Barony
  of Valsund, mightiest of the northern kingdoms.
  But with the unexpected death of King Jarregüt the
  Great, the kingdom passed on to his five children. 
  Unable to decide upon a single ruler, the siblings fell into
  bickering that quickly escalated to outright war. Divided
  by suspicion and greed, no one sibling was strong enough
  to best all four others, and Valsund decended into fero-
  cious infighting known as the War of Barons. Today, the
  glory of Valsund is a faded memory, replaced by the five
  fragmented baronies and their endless conflict. 
  Every spring brings a new season of struggle. The barons
  have learned to fight for small, strategic gains, and most
  battles are waged for control of cities and key bridges and
  fortresses. The same knights face off year after year,
  developing bitter rivalries that spill into subsequent gen-
  erations. A warrior code has evolved over the decades of
  conflict, dictating the rules of war, surrender, and ran-
  som. To foreign dignitaries, the Code seems to make lit-
  tle or no sense, but any child of the Warlands know its
  rules by heart. Of course, these customs apply only to
  those of noble birth; for the common spearman, the wars
  are as deadly and costly as any other.
  A century of war has also taken a great toll on the bar-
  onies’ resources. With the constant threat of death, pro-
  duction hovers just above subsistence levels, and the
  barons are forced to tax their people heavily to maintain
  their war chests. Recently, the barons have taken to com-
  missioning adventurers to explore old ruins in the hopes
  of discovering lost treasure hordes. While this has yield-
  ed some success, the returns are far from reliable, and the
  cost in lives is high.
  The barons wage their war games from ancestral citadels
  and city-states, ruling only as far as the reach of their
  armies. Territories can change hands overnight, and in
  the cloud of war, little is certain until the dust settles and
  the smoke fades. The following is a brief list of the bar-
  onies competing for dominance of the Warlands: 
  Araduin: (Metropolis, pop. 49,067) Araduin is a sprawl-
  39
  
  ing city-state that has more than doubled in size since the
  beginning of the war. Once renowned for its high, white
  granite walls, well-made homes, and towering citadel,
  the picturesque city is now surrounded by a tent city of
  several thousand refugees. While the original citizens of
  Araduin cling to their old ways, those outside the white
  walls scratch out their days in forced squalor. The stark
  differences have fed a growing unease on both sides of
  the walls, which, in turn, has fed the rise of fixers, smug-
  glers, and neighborhood bosses. Once a city without
  crime, Araduin is facing the rise of a powerful criminal
  underclass.
  Meanwhile, the War of Barons drags on. Araduin’s heavy
  cavalry are knights of legend, one thousand strong. When
  the knights assemble on the high plains, plate armor and
  lances shining in the dawn light, even the most jaded
  warrior is given pause. Each knight is attended by at least
  one squire, and when the army is on the march, its bag-
  gage train stretches for dozens of miles. While truly a
  mighty force on the field of battle, the size of the knights’
  force has proven to be a detriment against smaller, agile
  armies.
  The master of Arduin and her armies is the great cheva-
  lier-paladin, Cedric Erewulf the Wyrmbane. A holy war-
  rior in the prime of his life, none can fault the lord-baron
  for his personal honor or courage. Sadly, in his obsession
  to unify the Warlands, Erewulf has begun to compromise
  his previously unquestionable morals. Soon Erewulf will
  be forced to choose between his priniciples and his duty
  to the Warlands—a decision that threatens to shake the
  moorings of the paladin’s religious life.
  Celinost: (Metropolis, pop. 10,720) Celinost is a barony
  without a baron. The last ruler, Baroness Haelynn, the
  Silver Lady, vanished two years ago and is presumed
  dead. In her absense, the metropolis has dwindled to a
  third of its original size. With no ruler to take the Lady’s
  place, the barony has been left defenseless against its
  enemies. Many of the nation’s generals have already left
  to join the armies of Arduin or Morcaut, and the warriors
  that remain loyal are few.
  Most of the people of Celinost have fled for other lands,
  reducing the communitities surrounding the city of
  Celinost to mere ghost towns, prime for looting. Each of
  the four remaining baronies look to annex Celinost
  before a new baron can rise. 
  Kithmon: (Large city, pop. 11,058) With none of the
  might of her neighbors, Kithmon has been forced to rely
  on diplomatic intrigue and foreign heroes to augment her
  army of light cavalry, archers, and spearmen. On the
  whole, the people of Kithmon have fared better than most
  in the Warlands, and the armies of Kithmon are no less
  proud for the caution of their generals. 
  Primarily light lancers and archers, the Riders of
  Kithmon are easily recognized by their distinctive
  warhelms, decorated with trophies taken from fallen
  foes. The manes of dire lions are common, while some
  elite Riders sport the horns of dragons.
  The Baron of Kithmon is an unlikely ruler, Iminric of the
  Lute, a slender, catlike man. Known as the King of
  Bards, Iminric prefers to spend his time entertaining
  emissaries and visiting foreign courts, leaving the day-to-
  day matters of the barony to his trusted seneschal.
  Regarded by most as a worthless courtier with a weak-
  ness for beautiful women, the true Iminric is a cunning
  leader, masquerading as a fop. The King of Bards main-
  tains an elaborate network of spies throughout the
  Northlands, and often the lady on his arm is one of his
  agents. Of course, just as often the lady on his arm is an
  enemy agent, but Iminiric delights in the subtle games of
  cat and mouse. With a lute in his arms, and a rapier slung
  low on his belt, Iminric can be found in any royal court,
  quietly recruiting heroes to his cause.
  Morcaut: (Metropolis, pop. 31,813) Second largest of
  the baronies, Morcaut surely would have conquered her
  sister baronies years ago were it not for the intrigues of
  her chief foe: Reyngemar. A barony of sullen, broken-
  spirited serfs and cunning nobles, Morcaut is infamous
  for her peoples’ cruelty and ruthless spite. Less well
  known is the subtle diplomacy of her rulers. Among
  bardic circles, it is said that every emissary to Morcaut is
  met with a smile and hearty greeting . . . and leaves with
  a knife in her back.
  Morcaut is ruled by Baron Mrir, also known as the
  40
  
  Demon Son of Morcaut, a rogue entirely unfettered by
  morals or qualms of conscience. While rumors surface
  annually of demon blood running in the Mrir line, most
  sages agree that the current baron is neither demon nor
  cambion, but simply a heartless young noble with a gift
  for brutality. Unfortunately for the people of Morcaut,
  their ruler also possesses a brilliant intellect nearly
  unmatched in the Northlands. Baron Mrir is quick to
  exploit his gifts, constantly weaving new and ever more
  devious plots to rule the Warlands.
  Those meeting Baron Mrir for the first time are often
  taken aback. The baron is a young man of no more than
  twenty winters, with unmarred, pale skin and raven black
  hair. Mrir has a slender build, and while he is seldom
  seen on the field of battle, the young lord trains inces-
  santly with the longsword and fencing dagger, and is a
  master of the art of two-weapon fighting. Rumor holds
  that the baron keeps captured criminals (and heroes) in
  the dungeons beneath Morcaut, and uses the unfortunate
  souls as dueling partners. If true, and if his unmarked
  skin is any evidence, the Baron of Morcaut has never lost
  a duel.
  Reyngemar: (Large city, pop. 23,508) The nation of
  Reyngemar is like much of the Warlands: her people
  weary from the endless seasons of conflict, her roads
  churned into muddy tracks by passing cavalry, her towns
  stained by the soot of war. The people of Reyngemar are
  more resilient than most, believing that the wars will
  soon end, with Reyngemar ruling the Warlands. Much of
  this has to do with their unquestioning loyalty to their
  queen, an enigmatic sorceress known only as the Ashen
  Witch. 
  While all five of the Warlands are locked in a constant
  struggle for territory and title, the nations of Reyngemar
  and Morcaut reserve a special hatred for each other. If the
  two ever succeeded in resolving their differences and
  formed an alliance, the other baronies—and indeed much
  of the Northlands—would tremble at their combined
  might.
  Thankfully, so long as the Ashen Witch rules Reyngemar,
  an alliance with Morcaut is doubtful at best. A legend in
  the north, the Ashen Witch is a beautiful, white-haired
  sorceress of indeterminable age, who dresses in white
  robes and carries a bone staff adorned with mystic sigils
  and strange runes. Apart from her enmity for Baron Mrir,
  little is known of the Witch’s motives. Emissaries of for-
  eign nations have vanished into her crystal palace only to
  emerge as old men, aging dozens of years in a single
  night; meanwhile, nearly every nation in the north has
  been rescued by her mighty magics at one time or anoth-
  er. Examples of her kindness and cruelty are equally
  common, and the Ashen Witch remains among the endur-
  ing mysteries of the North.
  The armies of the Ashen Witch are an assortment of
  medium cavalry and spearmen, supported by archers
  identified by their white-fletched arrows. Unique to
  Reyngemar is a martial order composed entirely of
  women. Known collectively as the Swordsaints, the war-
  riors of this order can be recognized by their white, fur-
  lined cloaks, and peculiar, otherworldly eyes that glow
  with a soft blue radiance.
  Wastes of Zamon
  Competing magocrats
  Population: ???
  Resources: ???
  Capital: None
  T
  he fetid swamps and icy forests that make up the
  Wastes of Zamon stand in dark opposition to shin-
  ing Koranth. A loose coalition of evil warlocks
  and wizards, the wizards of Zamon broke away from the
  Barony of Koranth a mere seventy years ago, seizing
  control of the high tundra and wooded wastes north of the
  Mirdar-Luminar Steppes. 
  Sequestered far from civilized lands, each wizard rules as
  absolute tyrant of his own realm. The wastes bear the
  name of the most powerful archmage to make his
  demesne in the forsaken wilderness. Zamon, or the soul-
  stricken shell of the mortal once known by the accursed
  name, maintains a domain in the highlands just south of
  the Myrwych Forest, where the hills are populated by the
  twisted creations of the ancient mage and his demented
  apprentices.
  The wizards maintain no standing armies apart from their
  own personal henchmen, but these and the threat of a
  mage-tyrant’s personal reprisal is enough to dissuade
  most would-be trespassers. It is said that every tree, rock,
  and stream has been twisted by the surrounding magics,
  and that no secret is safe from the mages’ prying grasp.
  Years of dark experiments have filled the Myrwych
  woods with tormented aberrations. Known collectively
  as the Horrors of Zamon, the twisted beasts shun the
  light, only emerging at night to stalk the rocky hillsides.
  Amalgamations of a dozen monsters, the Horrors unleash
  the pain of their existence on the living, striking out with
  mindless abandon. To the great consternation of sages,
  the Horrors seem to be multiplying; each year their num-
  ber, size, and ferocity increase. Whether this is due to
  breeding between the aberrations, or some unholy aspect
  of the woods themselves, remains to be discovered.
  Exploration of the Northwoods has revealed a series of
  41
  
  dark obelisks that draw the aberrations like moths to
  flame. The proliferation of Horrors makes real explo-
  ration nearly impossible; some of the Empire’s finest
  heroes have died not seven steps within the forest bower. 
  Toth-Minul: (Small city, pop. 8,500) In such a forbid-
  ding realm, towns and cities are few and far between.
  Toth-Minul, the Wastes’ largest city, is occupied only
  seasonally. Every summer solstice, traders make the long
  trek to Zamon for the city’s Blacksun festival, bringing
  caravans of slaves, weird artifacts, rare spell components,
  and scraps of long forgotten lore. For three weeks, the
  merchants fill the outskirts of the city with their bazaar of
  the strange and wicked. Agents of the wizards scour the
  markets for their arcane needs, haggling with the dirty-
  handed merchants over the price of truenames. Those
  that return from Zamon come laden with sacks heavy
  with coin, but for every fortune made, there are several
  arrogant merchant who paid with their lives after failing
  to show the proper deference to their customers.
  Wildsgate, Free City of 
  Kaldal Aborn, Baron of
  Wildsgate
  Population: 2,010 (humans 67%, half-elves 9%,
  dwarves 8%, half-orcs 5%, elves 5%, gnomes 3%,
  halflings 3%)
  Resources: Grain, lumber, furs, trade
  Capital: Wildsgate Keep
  W
  ildsgate began as little more than a crude hill
  fort built in the shadows of the Foehammer
  Spires. Protected by ramparts of earth and
  watch fires, the fort quickly grew to prominence as a bas-
  tion of civilization in a savage frontier. Brave men and
  women answered the call of adventure and the fort grew
  to include stone walls, docks, and a towering citadel that
  offered a view of the land for miles in every direction.
  This expansion and growth came to a shuddering halt
  with the theft of the Heirlooms of Wildsgate.
  Construction was never completed, leaving Wildsgate as
  it appears today: unfinished and raw. Wildsgate has
  retained much of its rough and tumble ways; the fortress
  is not a safe town or a pleasant city, but a citadel sur-
  rounded by a savage wilderness. The people of Wildsgate
  live every day to its fullest, knowning full well that it
  might be their last.
  The present Baron of Wildsgate, Kaldal Aborn, is the last
  of the original line, a young man struck down by the
  “curse of Wulfrun.” Sickly and pale, Kaldal hovers on
  death’s door. While the baron still rules the city-state in
  name, all decisions of import are made by his seneschal,
  the cruel half-elf Sodersund.
  Wildsgate and its surrounding environs hold ample
  opportunity for adventure for those who are skilled (or
  lucky) enough to venture into the Wilds and return. The
  Foehammer Spires, once home to a clan of mighty
  dwarves, are now occupied by ferocious barbarians and
  goblin raiders. Local legend holds that the lost mines of
  the Foehammers still conceal treasure hordes and
  weapon caches of immesurable value. Wildsgate also
  serves as a trading post for dwarven merchants traveling
  down from the Holdfast of the Steel Overlord. 
  42
  
  T
  he Southlands are a glittering prize of limitless
  intrigue, bearing the treasures of long-forgotten
  civilizations and the myriad dangers hiding them.
  For those willing to find and face their guardians, they
  hold magics and works beyond belief. Those that survive
  the Southland perils bring back stories of monsters
  unimagined and locales undreamt. 
  Drawn along the southern border of old Northland maps,
  the name first given to Xulmec has since expanded to
  include all the lands north and south of the great peninsu-
  la. Cartographers have observed the far latitudes of the
  Southlands, realizing that its landmasses range as far
  north as the Kingdom of Luithea and as far south as the
  Old Khonsurian Empire. Yet the misnomer endures, and
  the Southlands have become synonymous with the exot-
  ic and wondrous lands throughout the continent.
  Though it is nearly impossible to trace humans’ first con-
  tact with the Southlands, ancient Xulmec codices and
  scrolls from the Lostlands agree that it occurred during a
  time when humans served fearsome, more powerful
  races. Perhaps because of these masters, this initial con-
  tact abruptly came to an end. When next the humans
  made contact, it was centuries later, their destinies were
  their own, and glory and wealth were their goals. Early
  visitations to the Southlands were violent, as Northland
  kings sought conquest in the gold-laden hills of Xulmec
  and the natives defied them. Even today, in a time of rel-
  ative peace, an undercurrent of contempt endures.
  Populous with humans, the dominant race of the Known
  Realms, the Xulmec city-states are the living heart of the
  Southlands. Though regarded as savages by the
  Northland nations, the Xulmec civilizations, at once
  superannuated and glorious, have spanned thousands of
  years—their traditions older than the oldest Northland
  country. Once a primitive people, they were mentored
  and enslaved by the naga race, and since finding their
  freedom have carved their own path in history.
  Yet the Xulmec peninsula is by no means the only center
  of civilization. Dominating the jungle coasts of the
  Laeysian Sea, the drakon nation of Ssorlang is a perma-
  nent and deadly fixture. The surrounding wilds and
  swamps are rife with lizardfolk and other reptilian peo-
  ples unfriendly to explorers. North of Xulmec, the land of
  Dujamar comprises a mass of smaller islands and rocky
  shoals, its waters concealing vast territories of sahuagin,
  locathah, and other aquatic-dwelling races hostile to most
  humanoids. The latest domain founded in the Southlands
  is the Criestine Colonies, firmly ensconced on the fringes
  of the Eztenqui Jungle, serving as the chief gateway for
  merchants and explorers.
  Beyond them all is Zimala, the Island of Obsidian, once
  the home of the great naga empire that quickened the cul-
  tures of all the land-dwelling races of the Southlands.
  Lost cities of old Zimala still lure adventurers with prom-
  ises of magic as old and powerful as the mythic Naga
  Council or the dragons that ruled before them, but the
  sheer distance of Zimala from the Northland world and
  the thousands of perils that lie between them keeps the
  Island of Obsidian a place of legend.
  To those familiar with the Northlands, the Southlands
  often seem trapped in the beliefs of the distant past. In the
  Northlands, the names of the gods are spoken by clerics
  and shamans, but here they are everyday utterances
  among commoners and kings. Here divine right of kings
  is a concept familiar and unquestioned by all. Here sacri-
  fice is as important as drawing breath for continued life.
  Here sacred quests of goodly proclamation are undertak-
  en and unapologetic genocide is carried out, as decreed
  by the patron gods of each realm. Madrah, the Lord of the
  Earth and Sky, rules above all, but his more active scions,
  the lesser powers who rule as god-kings and elemental
  lords, are invoked in all occasions, from everyday fami-
  ly meals to bloody campaigns of conquest.
  The mystic megaliths and vine-covered ruins found in the
  wild reflect such ties to the divine. Etched with hieroglyphs
  instead of runic writing, the equivocal reliefs and sculptures
  portray a time when gods took personal interest in the
  world—yet not so different than the present—and a future
  time when all things will transform or perish altogether.
  43
  Chapter 2
  The Southlands
  
  Climates and Seasons
  The varying elevations and latitudes of the Southlands
  allow for such disparate climates as steamy jungles and
  snow-capped mountain peaks.
  To a Northland captain sailing due west to the island of
  Tarras, the seasons and landscapes are much akin to his
  homeland. But for its resident menagerie of murderous
  beasts, the island would have become a Northland colony
  long ago. Moving south, the climate grows warmer, and
  it becomes clear to any visitor to the humid rainforests
  and grassy steppes that the natives are well adapted to
  this land, as evidenced by their tanned skin, dark hair,
  and uncanny endurance. The sun is a fierce and unabated
  presence in the Southlands, a fact that becomes more
  ominous when one learns of Xulmec beliefs. Though
  life-giving, the sun scorches the land, bleaches the
  stones, and darkens or burns the skin.
  Timekeeping and
  Celestial Bodies
  The standard Northland calendar is often observed in the
  Southlands out of convenience, but it is not the primary
  system. When Northland captains sail their vessels across
  the Empyrean, a second moon reveals itself to them in
  the evening sky, waxing and waning like the moon they
  know but bearing a swifter course. This is the Spectral
  Moon, the violet-hued disk upon which the Xulmecs base
  their calendar. Even Áereth’s most learned do not know
  why this moon can only be seen from the Southlands and
  their surrounding waters.
  In Southland Reckoning, the number of days in the year
  (365) remains the same. However, there are thirty moons
  (months) in a year, each affiliated with a creature or ele-
  mental force and consisting of twelve numbered days.
  The five remaining “unhallowed days” at the end of the
  year—coinciding with the end of the Northlands’ win-
  ter—mark a moonless time when demonic forces are said
  to roam the land uncontested. Xulmec priests fast and
  pray through the reigning darkness, making sacrifices to
  coax the arrival of the new year. The more cynical drakon
  of Ssorlang observe mystic rites to declare a truce with
  the demons and ensure their own protection. The first
  days of each year are celebratory indeed, for it means that
  destruction has been staved off yet again. Festivals are
  commonplace, as bonfires and costumed dances fill city
  streets and village squares. Xulmec drums, called hue-
  huet, express the rhythms of a people whose ancestry
  spans thousands of years.
  When the Spectral Moon is eclipsed by the White Moon
  (as the Southlanders call it), the latter simply vanishes.
  On rare occasions when the Spectral Moon eclipses the
  White Moon, its light is magnified and the land is illumi-
  nated by a pale violet glow half as bright as sunlight.
  44
  
  Such events are of great spiritual significance to all
  Xulmecs, especially the Amoyas, and often serve as the
  launching of great quests and the purging of evil.
  Every nation, city, and village observes its own holidays,
  and most can trace their origins to the customs of the var-
  ious Zimalan provinces when the naga, not the human or
  drakon, reigned supreme. Holy days are generally based
  on the whims of nature, the gods, or circumstance, and
  are seldom determined before their occurrence. The peo-
  ple of Kaatlan, who revere Calchoti the Rain Queen, cel-
  ebrate a holy day when the greatest rainstorms appear,
  while aggressive followers of Tlachinozal mark a holy
  day when their pool of captives is sufficient for a mass
  sacrifice. During these times, most of the people cease
  their work and make sacrifices large and small to their
  gods. On such days, children are named, omens are
  observed, and relics are closely guarded.
  The following are notable holidays observed largely
  among the Xulmec city-states and some even among the
  drakon of Ssorlang. The people of the Criestine Colonies
  observe a few Southland traditions, but most adhere to
  the Northland calendar and holidays.
  Day of the Three Guardians: Observed only in
  Xulmec—and in Teotcoatlan more than any other—the
  Day of the Three Guardians acknowledges the three leg-
  endary guardian nagas (Zacatla, Chetutec, and Saymal)
  who helped emancipate the human slaves from the Dark
  Council of Zimala. The holiday marks the true birth of
  the Xulmec nation, and the leadership of Huamec, the
  legendary hero and chieftain. The day is solemn from
  morning through the afternoon, in observance of the sac-
  rifices made by the Xulmecs’ ancestors, but the evening
  is a party of great merriment and feasting.
  March of Lightless Despair: Among the Amoyas, the
  “unhallowed days” marking the end of the year are a dark
  holiday, five cold nights when the moon goddess
  Anahuara must leave her post and protect the land from
  Tzitzimitl, the Demon Queen of Air. Without the moons’
  light to reveal evil and empower the magic of goodly
  mortals, creatures of darkness gain an advantage.
  Demonic minions of Tzitzimitl and her mortal cultists
  carry out their schemes, while clerics of Anahuara set out
  to oppose these foul enemies. It is not uncommon for the
  clerics to recruit adventurers to assist in such dark times.
  Festival of the Dead: Undoubtedly the most anticipated
  holiday in all the Southlands, the Festival of the Dead is
  a six-day observance that honors all who have passed on
  into the mysteries of death. Great celebrations and feasts
  are held and families visit the graves, tombs, or sites of
  their deceased loved ones. Tributes are made, songs and
  dances are performed, and the people try to commune
  with the spirits of those once close to them.
  For the Xulmecs, no answer is expected from the recent-
  ly deceased; the journey through Mictlan, the
  Underworld, is believed to take at least two years, during
  which the spirits of the dead cannot make contact with
  the living. After that, the living await for signs that their
  loved one’s journey to the peaceful realms of the afterlife
  was successful. Battles are forbidden upon this day, even
  for the bloodthirsty priests of Coatlimict. It is a day to
  honor the dead, not the dying. The Amoyas take council
  with their mummified deceased, believing that they have
  merely transcended into another state of existence. In
  contrast, the Darawans hold celebratory bonfires in their
  fields as they dance and sing to the sky, whence the spir-
  its of the dead are believed to have ascended.
  In Ssorlang, the drakon celebrate the Festival of the Dead
  with the intemperance common to their kind. Although
  the snake men do seek communion with their dead, they
  also choose this day for important executions and violent
  sparring. Criminals are thrown to giant constrictors as the
  drakon spectators gorge themselves on dire rodents and
  other delicacies. The coliseum in Xincayot, filled to
  capacity, dispenses with its usual gladiatorial games and
  pits slaves and criminals against overwhelming odds.
  Important duels between drakon nobles are also com-
  mon, as the sovereigns merely look on with amusement.
  45
  Southland Reckoning
  Any given day is simply named by the moon and
  day number. The fifth day of the Earth moon would
  be Earth Five. The count of Southland Reckoning,
  observed by Ssorlang and Xulmec, begins at the fall
  of the Zimalan Empire. The present year is 3675, as
  opposed to 3200 in the North.
  1. Angel
  2. Wind
  3. Star
  4. Serpent
  5. Flower
  6. Bird
  7. Storm
  8. Cat
  9. Earth
  10. East
  11. Dragon
  12. Water
  13. Tree
  14. Sun
  15. North
  16. Insect
  17. Fish
  18. Magic
  19. Fire
  20. West
  21. River
  22. Rodent
  23. Reed
  24. Turtle
  25. Death
  26. South
  27. Light
  28. Salt
  29. Mountain 
  30. Demon
  
  The Barrier Isles
  Cozette LeRoux and Lord
  Raazt
  Population:
  16,437 
  (humans 
  56%, 
  monstrous
  humanoids 22%, half-orcs 12%, elves 3%, halflings 3%,
  dwarves 2%, gnomes 2%)
  Resources: Trade and contraband
  Capital: Bloodport
  T
  he chain of islands known as the Barrier Isles are
  named for their occupants’ propensity to harass,
  plunder, or sink merchant vessels sailing between
  the Northlands and the Southlands. The Isles are an unri-
  valed haven for pirates and buccaneers, a cluster of ports
  so rife with humanoid vermin that lawmen from the
  Northlands dare not approach with standards raised.
  Before the infamous Bloody Jack made a name for him-
  self more than one hundred years ago, the Barrier Isles
  were merely a temporary anchorage for Northland sea-
  men making the voyages south and west. A collection of
  docking ports were settled, each governed by an appoint-
  ed official from its founding country. The greatest of
  these was Port Isolé, established by the Criestine crown.
  A puzzling array of ruins half buried within the forested
  isles became a distraction to explorers, leading to con-
  flicts among them as each competed to delve the ruins
  first. Over the years, the number of buccaneers who hid
  their loot in the ruins began to outnumber the isles’ rep-
  utable inhabitants, a situation which deterred merchants
  and imperial captains.
  Then came Bloody Jack Dascombe, the most reviled and
  feared pirate of his time, with his fleet of loyal raiders. In
  a single night of blood-soaked violence, he rid the isles of
  all those he deemed to be in service to Crieste or its allied
  nations. Just as swiftly, Jack sailed on again, deigning to
  hide his own treasures elsewhere. Indeed, it was rumored
  that Jack had a secret island of his own, a place not found
  on any map, where he stashed his marvelous treasures.
  Of course, rumors endure today that Bloody Jack left
  behind small caches of his treasure within the Barrier
  Isles and many ambitious pirates have given their lives
  searching for them.
  A cloud of mist perpetually wreaths the Isles, enduring
  all but the strongest of winds, granting them a sense of
  myth among Northland sailors and making the Isles dif-
  ficult to chart. Though they are considered a symbolic
  barrier between the Northlands and the Southlands, the
  Isles themselves are seldom seen. A captain who sails
  anywhere too close is likely to find his ship boarded, gut-
  ted, and burned into the sea by Barrier pirates patrolling
  their waters. For this reason, most captains give this
  region a very wide berth, extending their voyages by
  many days simply to eliminate the risk. Thus, the Barrier
  Isles are a constant thorn in the side of Crieste, Kalía, and
  other seafaring parties—a vicious thorn they are unable
  to locate, much less remove.
  The horrid accounts told by sailors about the Barrier Isles
  are never far from truth. Savage bugbear pirates are seen
  sailing into Bloodport in their gruesome galleys with sails
  of human skin and their latest captives—usually sea elves
  and tritons—lashed to the prow with razor-edged chains. A
  fleet bearing orc buccaneers launches yearly from the Isles
  on their infamous slave hunts to bring living currency to
  the markets of Djeser al-Maqqara. Even the intelligent
  undead have been known to bring their ghostly ships to
  port, bartering loot for living sustenance. These descrip-
  tions and countless more are carried to the mainland,
  ensuring the Barrier Isles’ reputation as a place of dread.
  Though no Northland country recognizes their autonomy,
  the Isles possess their own sanguinary government.
  There are no official regulations, yet an unspoken
  armistice is observed within the lawless ports. While
  rivals frequently stab one another in the back and corpses
  turn up in the gutters, there is an overriding fear that one
  of the Isles’ pirate lords will take personal notice and
  intervene. Such a threat keeps the daily skirmishes and
  brawls from becoming anything more. At the top of this
  chain of lords are the infamous pirates Cozette LeRoux
  and Lord Raazt, who owe their offices to their unfettered
  ruthlessness. They are considered the rulers of the Barrier
  Isles because they are the primary predators, having
  climbed through the ranks with cutlass and coin.
  Cozette LeRoux, the Red Piratess, is a smuggler and
  pirate who has never known defeat. Of Criestine blood,
  some believe that the fiery-haired piratess is a bastard
  descendant of Bloody Jack himself, a rumor she neither
  confirms nor denies. Lord Raazt is a retired pirate of
  fiendish lineage, a monstrous scrag famous for scuttling
  the ships of his enemies. LeRoux and Raazt maintain an
  uneasy truce, keeping their clandestine plots against one
  another to a respectable minimum. All obey and fear
  these two wicked pirates, although occasionally would-
  be usurpers attempt to dethrone one of them. Those
  upstarts who are not slain outright are hung by the water-
  front as examples to the rest. The necromancers in
  LeRoux’s employ often animate these unfortunates as
  ghouls and lock them in metal cages in public view,
  denied the carrion flesh they so desperately crave.
  Despite their differences, both LeRoux and Raazt pay
  tribute to the Lord of Ash, a mysterious authority who
  leads an unsettling fleet that sails up from the far,
  uncharted Southern Seas every two years to collect pay-
  ment. The flagship is an ominous and exotic catamaran
  46
  
  with a virtual palace built between its colossal hulls.
  Claiming true ownership of the Isles—as well as other
  unknown lands far away—the Lord of Ash wields might
  beyond understanding. His fleet is crewed by mute
  humanoids that, according to all accounts, “seem wrong
  somehow.” The pirate lords pay this tribute without ques-
  tion as the Northland governors reluctantly did before
  them, and only LeRoux and Raazt have ever been aboard
  the flagship. All those who have dared to follow or assail
  the armada are destroyed with impassionate efficiency.
  On occasion, elite lawmen and bounty hunters from the
  mainland find their way surreptitiously to the Barrier
  Isles, adopting false identities to avoid detection among
  the scum they hunt. Most are unmasked, tortured, and
  flayed alive. Yet a few have succeeded in tracking down
  their quarry, smuggling them back home to face justice or
  merely slitting their throats in the night to end their lives
  of crime. One such vigilante, known only as the Pale
  Knight, has become something of a bogeyman among the
  Isles.
  The ruins of the Barrier Isles perplex scholars and pirates
  alike. Half swallowed by the earth, the arrangement of
  the geometric architecture suggests that each ruin is a sin-
  gle piece of a much larger whole. Linked by bridges and
  interconnecting undersea corridors, the sunken buildings
  may have constituted a single massive city—an impres-
  sive accomplishment considering the Isles lay near the
  center of an ocean. A marked lack of writing within the
  ruins frustrates those who seek to unravel their mystery,
  but in its depths, the almost seraphic statuary has fostered
  many theories. Regardless, the shattered stone bridges
  and multi-level tunnels now serve as pirate troves and
  monster lairs.
  Tiny ports—some little more than a row of shacks and a
  single dock—honeycomb the coasts of each isle, many
  without names at all. The largest of these are detailed
  below.
  Bloodport: (Large town, pop. 4,904) Once known as
  Port Isolé, Bloodport was renamed in honor of Bloody
  Jack’s “red tide” of salvation that freed the Isles from
  Northland control more than a century ago. It is the sul-
  lied gem of the Barrier Isles, the first and largest of its
  ports. Its populace comprises the paramours and bastard
  children of pirates—and the men and women too sick or
  frail to continue their maritime crimes. As the pirate life
  is not one conducive to old age, the elderly are few in
  number. The streets and hovels are thick with youths,
  from small children to blustering adolescents, their num-
  bers divided into rivaling gangs, each boy and girl claim-
  ing that his or her notorious parent will soon return from
  the sea with untold wealth and influence. Most are disap-
  pointed; pirates as often feed the sharks of the Empyrean
  as return home with hard-earned swag.
  Carved into the rocky outcroppings of the largest Barrier
  Isle, Bloodport comprises a semicircle of tiered streets.
  The hovels are clustered together like swarming vermin
  frozen by isolation and privation. Lacking skilled archi-
  tects and loyal laborers, the town’s ramshackle buildings
  and leaking flats frequently collapse. The cobbled, crum-
  bling streets thrive with activity, but the licentious pur-
  suits of its citizens are a mockery of true urban commerce. 
  This budding generation of seafaring raiders, isolated
  from the imperious laws of the mainland, faces many
  hardships. For all its considerable population, disease
  runs rampant in the streets of Bloodport, with more than
  half of its young dying in their first year of life. Few heal-
  ers reside in town—or even advertise their magic—and
  fewer still serve gods compassionate enough to care for
  the infirm at all. Those who survive to adulthood are
  hearty indeed, but most of these end up as crew for the
  pirate ships that come to port. Yet from such iniquitous
  beginnings a precious few manage to escape, finding
  lives more fulfilling than the acquisition of blood money
  and stolen goods. 
  Cozette LeRoux, the Red Piratess, lives in the town’s top-
  most tier, ruling from a mansion whose opulence rivals
  the estates of Crieste’s lord-barons. It is said that the
  annual galas hosted from her manse—and the clandestine
  activities that take place therein—presage each year’s
  greatest pirate exploits. Many Northland spies have
  attempted to infiltrate these momentous balls in the hope
  of acquiring coveted information, but LeRoux’s traps and
  guardians snare them all. The lucky ones are slain out-
  right.
  47
  
  Dead Man’s Cove: (Small town, pop. 1,767) A small
  port sheltered within a wide coastal cave, Dead Man’s
  Cove is the lair of the scrag Lord Raazt, who rules with
  absolute authority. The followers of LeRoux are not wel-
  come here, but all freelance privateers and freebooters
  may dock if they pay the appropriate fee. Shielded from
  direct sunlight, the Cove lays in perpetual shade, making
  it a favorite of light-sensitive races such as orcs, kobolds,
  and sometimes even drow. Contraband, illegal in most
  nations, can be obtained openly here, provided one has
  sufficient coin or skill with an unseen blade. It is often
  through Dead Man’s Cove that psychotropic drugs pro-
  duced in Ssorlang are divvyed for Northland distribution.
  Lord Raazt himself often deals in secrets, selling maps
  and information for the same in turn. He is hard to
  impress and impossible to bribe with treasure or even
  magic items. His small empire of cutthroats and priva-
  teers, many of whom pay lip service to Northland gov-
  ernments, ensures that any who oppose him quickly find
  a watery grave.
  Mysterious treasures, local lore proclaims, are amassed
  within the extensive network of caves beyond the town
  proper, concealed both above and below the sea level.
  Explorers and buccaneers alike are frequently lured into
  these caves, but few return.
  Last Chance: (Small town, pop 1,954) The harbor of
  Last Chance caters to freelancing buccaneers and all
  those who would spurn the deadly intrigue of the pirate
  lords. Many who begin a life in piracy—or give it up—
  do so in Last Chance, though the town is as unwelcom-
  ing to Northland law as any in the Barrier Isles. Treasure
  hunters who have plundered the ruins of the Southlands
  often come here to sell their spoils, keeping such activity
  free from imperial scrutiny. Even legitimate merchants
  can be found in harbor, selling information about their
  rivals and unloading contraband.
  The closest thing the town has to a government is a guild
  of racketeers calling itself the Shroud, canny rogues who
  snub violence, preferring blackmail and extortion to
  accomplish their goals. Although its operation is based
  out of Last Chance, the Shroud extends its reach far out-
  side the Barrier Isles, steering clear of the pirate lords and
  piracy itself. Rogues of the Shroud are well known for
  their mastery of forgery and counterfeiting, though its
  members are all but impossible to implicate in such
  crimes. 
  Less well known are the excavations funded by the
  Shroud to yield the treasures of the Barrier ruins. Behind
  the town, a timeworn façade of draconic design leads into
  tunnels beneath the isle’s forest. Adventurers willing to
  explore these ruins and claim its treasures for the Shroud
  are frequently rewarded with favors and furtive services. 
  The Criestine Colonies
  Viceroy Raylen Durand 
  Population: 502,800 (humans 63%, half-elves 20%,
  elves 8%, halflings 3%, gnomes 3%, dwarves 2%, half-
  orcs 1%) 
  Resources: Bananas, beef, coffee, fruit, ginger, lobster,
  lumber, peanuts, shrimp, sugar, tobacco
  Capital: Voltigeur
  E
  arly Northland expeditions across the Empyrean
  Ocean brought home stories of a land filled with
  murderous savages, beast-ridden jungles, life-
  stealing spirits—and a wealth of resources that would fill
  the treasure vaults of the first kingdom that could claim
  them! With the large peninsula of Xulmec already occu-
  pied—its natives as often hostile as conciliatory—and
  the imposing continent of Zimala too far and dangerous
  to reach, the Northlanders were hard-pressed to find
  lands safe for colonization.
  It was an explorer named Darel Voltigeur who found the
  route north of the Tarras Isle and south again through the
  Sea of Desperation. There he came ashore the Isle of
  Tlahuaco, as it was known among the savage Xulmecs,
  and began to colonize the fringes of the jungle in the
  name of the crown. Little did Darel realize that the jun-
  gle already lay in the grip of the drakon warlord known
  as Xiuhcoatl the Emerald Cobra. The bloodshed that fol-
  lowed quickly dispelled the Northlander dream of easy
  settlement. Unwilling to relinquish their claim on this
  promising new land, the Criestine forces fought back
  against the vindictive snake men. 
  The Xulmecs soon came to their aid, finding in the
  Criestines allies against a common enemy. Dire prophe-
  cies had predicted the rise of the Emerald Cobra, giving
  the Xulmecs a reason to end their enmity with the
  Northlanders. New prophecies appeared, citing that
  friendship with the foreigners may be the salvation of the
  world.
  With their allies beside them, the Criestines waged war
  against the Emerald Cobra for several decades, with
  elves from the Northland forest of Blackbriar joining the
  imperial reinforcements in exchange for some sovereign
  presence within the colonies. The forces of Xiuhcoatl
  were at last defeated, the spirit of the Emerald Cobra
  himself magically bound in a staff by a Teotcoatlan wiz-
  ard. When the drakon retreated from the Eztenqui Jungle,
  the Criestines settled their colony unmolested and have
  remained there since, contending only against the crea-
  tures of the jungle and the occasional attack from the
  Xulmec city-state of Chuzec.
  48
  
  Existing as a colony for centuries, the people have
  become largely independent from the Empire of Crieste
  and most consider their home a separate nation altogeth-
  er. Nevertheless, the merchant-mayors of each town
  answer to the crown—usually in the person of Raylen
  Durand, a pretentious but artful politician appointed by
  Lady Mortianna herself as colonial viceroy. The Beryl
  Conclave, a small counsel of aristocratic wizards and sor-
  cerers, are assigned as protectors of the colony and its
  people.
  The boundaries of the Criestine Colonies are uncertain.
  The Isle of Tlahuaco and the southern coast of the Sea of
  Desperation lie within its province, but if one presses fur-
  ther into the jungles, Criestine influence and protection
  quickly fades. Though rife with natural resources, the
  Eztenqui Jungle is nefarious for the dangers it hides—
  lizardfolk, venomous snakes, and jungle cats are only the
  least of these. 
  The Colonies maintain strong trade relations with the
  Xulmec city-states of Kaatlan, Teotcoatlan, and Amoya.
  The centuries that have passed since their arrival in the
  Southlands have given the colonists a cultural and reli-
  gious syncretism unseen in any Northland realm. A mix
  of Xulmecs, a merchant caste drawn from various
  Northland nations, and elves from Blackbriar have given
  rise to a racially diverse population quite distinct from
  the Northlands. An outspoken minority seeks further
  independence from Crieste—total secession from the
  crown—but the royal vizier and her pet viceroy have
  invested many resources in preventing this. The Colonies
  are a firm gateway to the Southlands, and the lord-barons
  of the mother country will not give it up.
  At present, the mayors of the Colonies have become
  complacent, hoping for trouble no greater than merchant
  disputes, periodic aggression from Chuzec, and the occa-
  sional wandering beast from the Eztenqui Jungle. The
  Scourge that now threatens the motherland is but a rumor
  to the colonists. But more substantiated rumors have
  begun to appear of the return of the Emerald Cobra, even
  as spiritualists from among the towns speak in frightened
  tones of the sinking of Tlahuaco by unnamed forces.
  Sahuagin from neighboring Dujamar have been spotted
  in small teams in the Sea of Desperation, fueling anxiety
  that King Azghaar gazes upon the Colonies with con-
  quest in mind. And amidst all those concerns is the con-
  stant fear of colonial merchants that privateers or Barrier
  pirates will sack the treasure-laden ships they send back
  home. Adventurers who come to the Criestine Colonies
  are sure to find their spells and swords in demand; whose
  cause they take up or whose gold they accept is a matter
  of honor, greed, or desperation.
  Abbey of St. Terinmora: (Keep, pop. 487) When the
  violence between Northland explorers and the people of
  Xulmec began to abate centuries ago, many attempts
  were made to convert the Southland “savages” to the
  faiths of the Northlands. Most missionaries, the well
  meaning and the pharisaical, were rebuffed, for the
  Xulmec adherence to their gods was strong.
  One exception was Terinmora, a young paladin of
  Justicia who gave much of herself—and ultimately, her
  own life—in service to the Xulmecs. The passion and
  mercy exhibited by this remarkable woman brought
  many of the jaded natives to the outlandish doctrines of
  the Restoring Flame and even other gods of the Sancturn
  Pantheon. While some of these have abandoned the wor-
  ship of the Xulmec gods altogether, others blend the
  beliefs of their native gods with their adopted divinities.
  Built within the foothills of the Atlauhti Mountains, the
  Abbey of St. Terinmora is a religious fastness dedicated
  to the gods introduced by the Northland visitors. Humans
  from both sides of the Empyrean Ocean dwell here, as
  well as an influx of pilgrims. Named after the sainted
  lady paladin herself, the Abbey serves as a bastion of
  faith and a launching place for sacred quests within the
  Southlands. Shrines to most of the benign religions of the
  Sancturn Pantheon can be found within the great abbey,
  and clerics of almost any god are welcome.
  Abbot Kallus Wayrenne, a stern man of middling years,
  presides over the activities and guests of the abbey. His
  sleepless devotion is best exemplified by his consistent
  victories against the attempted sieges of the Chuzec war-
  riors.
  Feronte: (Village, pop. 679) Feronte is a simple village
  dwelling closest to the infamous volcano in which, if leg-
  ends are true, the Emerald Cobra once laired. The people of
  Feronte are considered by the other colonial towns to be a
  wilder folk than most. Many of the Xulmec-blooded
  humans of the Colonies settle here, finding a place in the
  fishing trade common among the Northland colonials.
  Strange hermits and reclusive rangers dwell on the outskirts
  of town, maintaining the local folklore that the longer one
  lives within the jungle, the more fey one becomes. 
  49
  
  Feronte is mayored by Senth Lavrousse, a ranger and
  half-elf of Crieste-Blackbriar descent who feels at home
  among neither. He spends most of his time scouting the
  wild and seldom corresponds with the Colonies’ other
  mayors or its viceroy. Unsubstantiated rumors abound
  that Senth hides a paramour in the jungle somewhere, a
  dryad of bewitching power.
  Ft. Montsiang: (Town, pop. ?) Both a military fastness
  and a frontier town, Ft. Montsiang is a strategic outpost
  in Omian Pass. Built atop a steep escarpment on one side
  of the road, the fort commands a view of all primary traf-
  fic between the Xulmec peninsula and the Criestine
  Colonies. Many Xulmecs resent this overt military pres-
  ence, but few can deny its advantageousness against the
  aggression of Chuzec, whose war-like people always
  seeks fresh captives for their blood sacrifices and bear no
  tolerance for Northlanders. 
  Commanding the fort is Lieutenant Raquelle Clavet, a no-
  nonsense veteran of the Sable March from the homeland.
  Honorably discharged by Captain Sentri himself, she was
  assigned to Ft. Montsiang to “cool down” from her fright-
  ening and unceasing devotion to the crown. Raquelle
  finds her time occupied maintaining vigilance against
  those Xulmecs who decline peaceful coexistence with the
  Northlanders and keeping the pass free of bandits.
  Pleniere: (Village, pop. 534) A sleepy fishing port on the
  isle’s western coast, Pleniere faces the channels that run
  between the Eztenqui Jungle’s wetlands. The locals live
  their lives probing the waterways for fish, avoiding the
  hazards of the jungle, and passing time with stories about
  the time when snake men ruled the land between
  Voltigeur and the Atlauhtli Mountains.
  Pleniere’s mayor is a lazy merchant named Loremer
  d’Arisseux, whose position in the remote, backwater
  town suits him fine. Recent sightings of the walking dead
  rising up from the salty waters, however, have him wor-
  ried.
  Gerronotte: (Village, pop. 687) At the southern tip of
  Tlahuaco Isle, the village of Gerronotte serves as the
  gateway to the colonial outposts across the water. A ferry
  regularly crosses to St. Ferrau, a service that imposes a
  steep tax upon travelers unaffiliated with Crieste’s mer-
  chant guilds. 
  The salty marshland surrounding the town is feared by
  visitors for its haunted appearance, but local hunters fre-
  quently venture into the waters in search of exotic water-
  fowl. At night, even the locals avoid the swamp, for will-
  o’-wisps and wraiths are said to emerge from its depths.
  Stories suggest that the wraiths were spawned from the
  spirits of Criestine soldiers who died in the war against
  the Emerald Cobra, although they cannot explain why
  such spirits turned to evil.
  Lieux-Claren: (Village, pop. 830) Across the bay from
  the colonial capital, the small port of Lieux-Claren is
  accessible only by sea. Unable to establish a safe route
  through the marsh to the south, it relies upon its proxim-
  ity to Voltigeur to bring in trade. Lieux-Claren is home to
  fisherman who know Xayactl Bay better than any, draw-
  ing from it more fish than anywhere else in the Colonies. 
  St. Ferrau: (Large town, pop. 3,405) As the only outpost
  of civilization within the Eztenqui Jungle, St. Ferrau was
  intended to serve as a launching point for expeditions
  into its wild depths. The ruins of hastily erected drakon
  redoubts can be found swallowed by the jungle just out-
  side the town limits. Renamed after a martyred cleric of
  Delvyr who saved the town in 2601 EC (Empyrean
  Calendar) from an attack by dark nagas, St. Ferrau boasts
  hearty folk and a courageous militia. The daily presence
  of the infamous jungle has weeded the town of the feeble
  and skittish.
  A road of flattened stones, laid by the Xulmecs, leads
  southeast from St. Ferrau through Omian Pass to Ft.
  Montsiang. In this capacity, St. Ferrau also serves as the
  crossroads between Xulmec and the Isle of Tlahuaco. A
  large ferry makes round trips to Gerronotte and Voltigeur
  twice each day, transporting passengers at a reasonable
  price but imposing an imperial tax on trade goods or
  questionable accoutrements. 
  Mages sometimes visit St. Ferrau—and vanish soon
  after—to study the preternatural nature of the great
  Eztenqui. Of more recent concern is the Blackfield, a
  stretch of blighted land several miles southeast of town
  that history records as having once been further away.
  Druids and wizards alike have been summoned to inves-
  tigate the corrupted earth, but most have either turned
  away or disappeared within it.
  Voltigeur: (Large town, pop. 4,678) Named after the
  founding explorer, Voltigeur is the capital of the Criestine
  Colonies. A flourishing port, it is the hub of Southland
  commerce among Northlanders. Though merchants from
  all nations are welcome to trade here, heavy taxes are
  levied on them to increase the coffers of the viceroy, the
  Emperor, and the town itself—often in that order.
  Voltigeur’s mayor is Acatzalan, a man controversial for
  his Crieste-Xulmec blood. Beloved by the locals, he is
  despised by most Criestine nobility for his “sympathy for
  the savages.” Viceroy Durand tolerates Acatzalan’s phi-
  lanthropy, knowing that his presence soothes the sepa-
  ratist population of the Colonies. Durand frequently
  undermines the mayor’s authority with imperial man-
  dates, inflammatory acts of spite that will likely harm
  Durand’s standing as well.
  At the center of town, at the foot of a monument to the
  Crieste-Xulmec alliance, an enspelled glass case bears
  50
  
  Micohuani, the Deathstaff. Capped with a large blue dia-
  mond, the staff bears the spirit of the defeated Xiuhcoatl,
  and to the proud colonists remains a symbol of both their
  alliance with Xulmec and the defeat of a great evil.
  Although it’s in plain view of all citizens, powerful
  magic protects the Deathstaff from theft or destruction.
  Melisine d’Aurielle, a mage of the Beryl Conclave, per-
  petually watches over it.
  The Blackbriar Quarter houses the pure-blooded elven
  families that first lent martial aid to the Criestine settlers.
  Though considered haughtier than their Northland kin,
  the Blackbriar elves yet retain their homeland culture,
  importing their fine ruby wine and often hosting revels
  for all to enjoy. Many half-elves in the Colonies trace
  their bloodlines to the Blackbriar Quarter, but few are
  recognized by these proud families. Even humans and
  Southland natives achieve greater respect in their eyes
  than the half-blooded “bastards.” These elven patriarchs
  regard the Criestine government coldly, believing them-
  selves overlooked by the Empire for the martial assis-
  tance their ancestors once gave to the colonial founders
  against the Emerald Cobra.
  Dujamar
  No ruler
  Population: Unkown
  Resources: See text
  Capital: None
  T
  he sprawl of islands known collectively as
  Dujamar is a place feared by mariners of every
  persuasion. A long chain of islets and disjointed
  landmasses, it is a place of exotic wildlife, rare flora, and
  hidden death. The rocky shoals and inlets that fill its
  waters have given Dujamar its nickname, the Razor
  Islands, by seamen who know to keep a respectful dis-
  tance. 
  Though the natural hazards are forbidding enough, it is
  the evil and intelligent creatures lurking beneath the
  waves that make Dujamar a no man’s land. A tremendous
  population of sahuagin, ranging from isolated villages to
  whole kingdoms, live in communities carved from stone
  and coral, making the sea devils Dujamar’s dominant
  race. Of these, King Azghaar the Malevolent is the undis-
  puted tyrant, the ruler of a sahuagin kingdom numbering
  one hundred thousand strong of his scaly kind, if reports
  are accurate.
  At odds with the interests of King Azghaar are the covens
  of sea hags, who compete with the sea devils to capture
  and devour those who wander into the region by foolish
  choice or unfortunate circumstance. The hags are said to
  use the bodies of their victims to fuel their profane cere-
  monies. It is believed by some sages that, given enough
  victims, the sea hags will be able to breed their own
  ghoulish armies. Against all of these, a hermitic order of
  druids dwells among the islands, waging a perpetual war
  against the hags and sea devils and guarding the pristine
  animal and plant life from their depradations. Friends to
  none are the many species of wyverns of Dujamar, from
  the swarms of small hatchlings to the oversized cliff
  wyverns whose ominous shadows bring on sudden dark-
  ness a heartbeat before sudden death. The wyverns sit
  firmly at the top of the food chain, lairing in the taller
  outcroppings of the isles. Gliding over their domains in
  search of meals from among the diverse wildlife, a
  favorite among all species is the exotic flesh of humanoid
  intruders. 
  The waters of the Javran Sea, just east of the Dujamar
  islands, are known to be the demesne of krakens, making
  them among the most feared places anywhere in the
  ocean. King Azghaar is believed to consort with these
  abhorrent, deep-dwelling monsters, and some even say
  the monarch himself is but a puppet for the evil krakens.
  Recently, a rumor has spread among the merchants of the
  nearby Criestine Colonies that a safe, passable trade
  route exists somewhere between the islands of Dujamar,
  linking the Sea of Desperation with the Empyrean Ocean.
  If this “golden passage” can be found and secured, the
  voyage between the Colonies and their home country
  would take only a fraction of the time, and the expense of
  51
  
  the journey reduced manifold. Colonial merchants, as
  well as dignitaries of the Emperor, have begun to hire
  adventurers willing to find the rumored passage. Whether
  the path is real or simply a ruse cited by Dujamar’s mon-
  strous denizens to lure more victims, none can say.
  Rutuan: (Small town, pop. 1,138) Constructed on a sod-
  den marsh upon an extensive network of warped plat-
  forms, Rutuan is the only place in Dujamar where land-
  dwelling creatures are granted amnesty by King Azghaar.
  Pragmatic despite his bloodlust, Azghaar recognizes the
  benefit of trade with civilized surface realms, so mariners
  may dock here without fear of attack by his scaly sub-
  jects. The other creatures of Dujamar offer no such pro-
  tection, but the threat of retribution from the sahuagin
  king prevents any overt hostility.
  The Black Covey, hags of the vilest predilections, gov-
  erns Rutuan. The trio consists of an annis named Alunine
  and two green hags, Meglea and Sayocia. Each is a sor-
  ceress of considerable might, and has made enemies with
  Dujamar’s sea hags, for the latter refuse any truce with
  humanoid mariners. The Covey retains an elite militia of
  ogres whose sole purpose is to ensure that violence is
  kept to an acceptable minimum. Commanding this
  brutish unit is Guloresh, a lycanthropic ogre who reports
  to Alunine directly. Rumors in town suggest that she gift-
  ed the ogre boss with his bestial mantle as payment for
  murdering her predecessor. Azghaar and the Covey enjoy
  a solid truce within Rutuan and its surrounding environs,
  but even the sahuagin king’s wicked ambassadors are
  loath to enter the hags’ gruesome cottage at the center of
  town.
  The waterlogged planks of the platform city appear
  unsafe, but magic and the uncanny woodwork of the
  locals secures every hut and ramshackle fort. Even so,
  strategically placed planks have been left to rot for the
  misfortune of unwary intruders. Beneath the city’s plat-
  forms is a foul landscape of mephitic sludge, where the
  city’s refuse is dumped by means of evenly spaced wells.
  Among the horrors lurking in the slime are scores of
  shambling mounds—and the Black Covey’s magic pre-
  vents the treasures of their victims from rising to the city
  above. Whenever an unfortunate traveler accidentally
  drops a valued possession between the cracks of the
  city’s boardwalks, he has a choice: Wisely dismiss the
  item forever or risk near-certain death “among the sham-
  blers.” Wealthier visitors to the city usually hire the fool-
  ish or desperate to retrieve lost objects.
  Halcyon, Free City of
  Lady Mayor Elarabeth
  Population: 39,508 (humans 60%, half-elves 12%, elves
  10%, half-orcs 7%, dwarves 6%, monstrous humanoids
  4%, halflings 1%)
  Resources: Trade, some mining
  Capital: The City of Halcyon
  O
  nce a small port of no consequence, Halcyon was
  established as an independent city only fifty-five
  years ago by the famous Kalían priestess Captain
  Dinadae, and quickly became known as a sanctuary from
  piracy. It is the stopping point for most traffic between
  the Northlands and the Southlands, a place of free trade
  and ordered freedom where merchants seeking barter
  with the people of Xulmec can find safe harbor and
  resupply their ships. 
  The legend of Halcyon comes from its founder, Captain
  Dinadae, a priestess of Pelagia and high-ranking Siren.
  When her entire crew was slain by Barrier pirates, she
  found herself lost in the Empyrean, fleeing an armada of
  ruthless enemies eager to inflict torture and death. Spying
  a kingfisher flying above a rising storm, the story holds
  that she crewed the galleon alone with only her prayers
  and the blue-feathered bird as a guide. As the tempest
  swelled and the shrieking winds closed in on her, she
  cried out in supplication. Just as the storm broke into a
  calming roil, the last of its wrath fell full upon the pursu-
  ing pirates and smashed them into the sea.
  Captain Dinadae found herself drifting into a small port
  town, astonished to learn she’d sailed so far. Coming
  ashore, she searched for the kingfisher. What she took for
  a small bird she saw was in fact a massive avian, perched
  now upon a cliff overlooking the town. A celestial crea-
  ture the size of a roc, its crested head, long beak, and
  bright sapphire plumage shone in the bright dawn.
  Dinadae named the majestic animal Halcyon, blessed of
  Pelagia. When the Barrier pirates sent reinforcements
  against the town, Halcyon herself attacked and razed
  each ship. The celestial bird and her hatchlings would
  become creatures of myth. Many have searched the
  mountain above in vain for her secret aerie.
  A white mountain wall rises behind the city, pitted with
  the aeries of sea birds and riddled with small caves
  rumored to lead deep into the mountain’s heart. A mas-
  sive lighthouse, built on the foundations of an old cloud
  giant ruin, looms above the city on a wide mountain
  shelf, its beacon of magical blue fire guiding errant ships
  to port each night. An enigmatic wizard keeps the light-
  house in working order.
  52
  
  Lady Elarabeth is the city’s latest mayor, a half-elf of
  aquatic elf lineage retired from a life of pirate-hunting
  among the Sirens of Pelagia. Though she has many ene-
  mies, Elarabeth is well guarded in her new home, and no
  city is safer from pirate retribution. The city watch,
  known as the Sea Wardens, are experienced seamen, and
  are as often patrolling the Imacuan Sea as they are their
  beloved city’s streets. The Sirens are known operatives
  active within Halcyon, with Elarabeth as their local bene-
  factor, but the true location of their temple-island remains
  unknown.
  Elarabeth’s troubles come not from the crimes of
  Halcyon’s citizenry or visiting mariners, but rather from
  the many Northlander dignitaries seeking to persuade her
  to surrender her city to the care of their respective
  nations. Who controls Halcyon, they surmise, controls
  the waters between the Imacuan Sea and the Empyrean
  Ocean. At present, Elarabeth imposes no tax on mer-
  chants, a fact the greedy lord-barons of the North cannot
  understand. These wealthy dignitaries often hire adven-
  turers to explore the caves of the mountain, for legends
  older than the city itself speak of an ancient draconic relic
  buried within, a rod that gives complete control of the
  weather for many miles. Such a treasure would, no doubt,
  give great power and influence to he—or she—who
  wields it. Lady Elarabeth has been hiring adventurers as
  well, fearful that if this artifact does exist, she will lose
  her city to its keeper.
  Halcyon is still a young city, its rain-swept streets fringed
  with the stones of unfinished houses and temples.
  Although its populace is predominantly human, many
  elves and half-elves have made their home here—espe-
  cially those with connections to the sea. Merfolk, tritons,
  and aquatic elves make frequent visits to the city, one of
  the few places they are able to do so without persecution.
  Though its citizens are not without their worldly preju-
  dices, most who call Halcyon their home bear an innate
  love of the sea and the creatures within it.
  Of course, such freedom welcomes enemies, and
  Halcyon has many. Fortunately, it has as many defenses.
  The coastal waters on either side of the docks are shallow
  and rocky, forcing invading ships to approach the city
  directly and in full view of its defenders. As if blessed by
  Pelagia herself, the waters surrounding Halcyon have
  attracted a number of sea-dwelling creatures that possess
  the insight to recognize friendly traffic and a penchant for
  attacking marauding ships. Water elementals and even a
  pair of mated dragon turtles neutralize the threats from
  the sea itself. According to legend, when the city finds
  itself in true peril, the hallowed bird that gives the city its
  name will appear again.
  Ssorlang
  Keeper of the Emerald Throne,
  Prince Zurasak
  Population: 1,857,475 (drakon 55%, human 25%,
  lizardfolk 7%, tzopiloani/inphidians 5%, other 8%)
  Resources: Copper, fish, gold, jewelry, minerals, psy-
  chotropic drugs, rice, textiles, timber
  Capital: Myashtlan
  H
  atched from the sins of the latter-day Zimalan
  Empire, Ssorlang is the only unified nation of
  drakon in the known world. The nagas’ Dark
  Council conducted magical experiments in a bid to create
  humanoids in their image, and these foul rites gave birth
  to the race of snake men. Within years of their creation,
  the drakon revolted in a civil war known as the Wrath of
  Serpents. The surviving nagas retreated south beyond the
  Nahualli Mountains, leaving the drakon to occupy the
  jungles alongside Cipachtli Bay. The humans, also for-
  mer slaves of the nagas, had by this time fled north and
  settled into the Xulmec peninsula. 
  The future of the young race was uncertain. With their
  common enemy defeated, their chaotic nature divided
  them, spawning two warring factions: the Amotuan and
  the Impiluan. The Amotuan maintained that drakon were
  the rightful heirs of the Zimalan Empire, meant to inher-
  it the traditions and lands of their naga forebears. The
  Impiluan, however, wanted to renounce the old ways and
  establish an empire and identity of their own.
  After centuries of virulent coexistence, the two factions
  united under the intelligence of Tlalteucti, an Amotuan
  wizard of sinister power. Having returned from mysteri-
  ous travels abroad, Tlalteucti envisioned a world ruled by
  drakon. He promptly led his people into a savage war
  against the Xulmec city-state of Uatazan. Even though
  the humans of Darawan and Amoya came to the aid of
  their brothers, Uatazan was utterly defeated; those who
  were not slain became slaves. In the midst of this war,
  Tlalteucti created the Emerald Throne, an ensorcelled
  artifact that served as the seat of power for the drakon in
  the city they renamed Myashtlan. Soon after, Tlalteucti
  was killed by a priest of Anahuara, but the drakon’s
  grandson, a warrior named Xiuhcoatl, struck down the
  Xulmec and led his people to victory.
  Xiuhcoatl, calling himself the Emerald Cobra, rallied his
  followers to continue their path of conquest. The
  Impiluan faction refused to join him, believing that the
  drakon should secure their new realm before pursuing
  further expansion. Despite their perceived cowardice,
  53
  
  Xiuhcoatl pressed on. Knowing his armies were not
  strong enough yet to challenge all of Xulmec, he led
  them through the Xocoatic Marshes, killing those
  humans from Amoya that dared to challenge his advance.
  The Emerald Cobra established his new seat of power in
  the vast Eztenqui Jungle. From there he sent word to his
  southern brethren, entreating them to join him in his attack
  against Xulmec from two fronts and thereby extend the
  reach of their empire. The Impiluans did not respond. Soon
  after, human settlers from the faraway Northland empire of
  Crieste began to colonize at the edge of Xiuhcoatl’s
  domain. Xulmecs from Kaatlan and Teotcoatlan allied
  with these newcomers and fought back against Xiuhcoatl.
  The Emerald Cobra met his defeat at last when a
  Teotcoatlan wizard trapped his essence in a staff.
  Without their leader, the surviving drakon of Xiuhcoatl
  slithered back to their southern cousins, only to find that
  the Impiluans had established the nation of Ssorlang.
  Having ventured to mystic lands in the Shadowed West,
  many changes had come to the drakon people. The
  Impiluan faction had found its new identity at last, and
  their culture transformed in a matter of decades. The
  Amotuans, followers of the old ways, became a quiet
  minority in Ssorlang society. 
  The sovereignty established by Tlalteucti yet remains.
  While the monarch who coils upon the Emerald Throne
  governs Ssorlang, its royal families have been assassinated
  and replaced numerous times since the kingdom’s incep-
  tion. Though they fancy their nation an empire, the drakon
  have never expanded, nor have they succeeded in keeping
  a single dynasty in power for more than five generations.
  The current ruler is the ailing Emperor Vithoon, a cantan-
  kerous old serpent whose wizardry has begun to wane. It
  is his son, Prince Zurasak, who wields the true power of
  the Emerald Throne. The drakon, an eldritch knight of
  fearsome skill, has personally foiled every coup attempt,
  and with his father still ensconced upon the throne, he is
  free to carry out many of his plans without the added bur-
  den of state.
  The drakon of Ssorlang are aggressive, but constant
  infighting keeps their power in check. Ssorlang and the
  Xulmec city-states have reached a stalemate that neither
  side can break. The Xulmecs are far too powerful now for
  the drakon to rise against, and the Xulmecs cannot hope
  to dislodge the snake men from their strategic seat in the
  former Uatazan lands. With Myashtlan as their capital,
  the drakon control all traffic on the Laeysian Sea, the
  Strait of Kamasha, and all adjacent coasts. Most Xulmecs
  maintain a cool, often hostile, view towards the snake
  men, while only the city-state of Darawan maintains a
  tense relationship of mutual benefit. Darawan offers
  Ssorlang untaxed trade, while the drakon allow the
  humans limited passage through their waters. 
  Ssorlang is a rainy tropical realm that includes the moun-
  tains of northwest Zimala, the Laeysian Sea, and the sur-
  rounding peninsulas south of the Anduran Mountains.
  Along the western coasts, the jungle quickly gives way to
  the Kharan Plateau that overlooks the Tletl Plains to the
  north. Beyond that lies the Shadowed West, a mystic
  realm that intrigues and frightens the drakon.
  Notoriously arrogant, most snake men consider all who
  are not drakon tools to be manipulated or cattle to be sub-
  jugated. They do not typically kill foreigners on sight as
  they, like the Xulmecs, have learned to subdue and cap-
  ture enemies. But unlike Xulmec, they practice slavery
  and seldom release their captives.
  Angkar: (Small town, pop. 1,895) Named for the mas-
  sive temple looming above it, the small port of Angkar
  lies in a cove shadowed by the Kharan Plateau. It has
  seen the arrival of pilgrims for centuries, surviving every
  monsoon and political shift since its creation untold mil-
  lennia ago. Though it lies now within the demesne of
  Ssorlang, even the Emerald Throne acknowledges the
  site as a holy place. The waters of the Laeysian Sea are
  controlled by the drakon, but travelers citing pilgrimage
  to Angkar will be granted safe passage—provided they
  pay the “protection fee,” after which they are closely fol-
  lowed to port. 
  The town itself consists of an even mix of human,
  drakon, and humanoid locals, and is overseen by
  Nentawat, who serves as mayor-priest. Visitors from the
  Shadowed West often arrive by the Strait of Kamasha to
  visit the temple as well.
  54
  
  A massive stone face, bearing a fearsome humanoid
  countenance, is carved into the high wall of the Kharan
  Plateau, rising less than a mile west of the town. Said to
  depict an aspect of Madrah, the face marks the entrance
  to the Temple of Angkar itself. Thousands of rough stone
  steps lead up the steep cliff face into the gaping mouth.
  Capacious chambers and tight corridors, carved with bas-
  reliefs and sculptures older than the rise of the Zimalan
  Empire, lie within. Hallowed to all who believe in the
  ways of Madrah or his many progenies, the Temple is
  said to preserve many old secrets, and hidden passages
  are rumored to lead further into the depths of the earth.
  Kanthara: (Large city, pop. 17,827) Built at the edge of
  a natural headland, the city of Kanthara is adjacent to the
  Laeysian waters on three sides. The majority of
  Ssorlang’s human population dwells in this well-guarded
  city at its geographic heart, far from easy liberation. Most
  are slaves of the state, struggling in the privation of its
  crime-ridden streets. At their best, these humans, descen-
  dants of fallen Uatazan, share with each other what little
  they have, spreading their resources thin. At their worst,
  they murder, betray, and even cannibalize each other.
  Sometimes insurgents escape the city, but the drakon sen-
  tinels have learned to defend it from those who would
  emancipate their slaves, and so the city is walled in with
  numerous towers.
  When a drakon requires a servant or slave, he ventures
  into the markets of Kanthara to look for the best he can
  afford. Those who seek bodyguards often choose from
  the street thugs who have survived by intimidation and
  violence. Those who seek finesse and intelligence in their
  retainers purchase those who can resist the spells of
  drakon mages, then bring their purchases to Myashtlan
  for education.
  Kanthara is ruled by an aging drakon named Sakda, a
  snake man who has been in office for so long that he’s
  become more tolerant of humans than any of his kind.
  Some royal courtiers accuse him of sympathizing with the
  human situation. The Emerald Throne is content in assum-
  ing that his kindness is a ruse to keep the humans tame.
  Myashtlan: (Metropolis, pop. 28,900) Rising at the
  north end of Cocohuan, the Serpent Isle, Tenochtzaya
  was once the second capital of Zimala, the city where the
  Dark Council of nagas guided their wounded empire.
  During the Wrath of Serpents, the nagas withdrew their
  forces to the south, allowing the city to be seized by the
  rebel human slaves. While most of their people jour-
  neyed north to settle on the Xulmec peninsula, the people
  who settled in Tenochtzaya established the city-state of
  Uatazan.
  When the drakon conquered Uatazan, they claimed the
  city as their own and renamed it Myashtlan. Where the
  Uatazans had sealed the temple pyramid of Axaluatl as an
  unholy, cursed place, the drakon plundered it. The many
  shrines and repositories of the nagas were dissembled,
  their treasures added to the snake men’s growing vaults.
  The only edifices sacred to the nagas that remain in the
  city are those with magics yet to be breached. 
  The shining jewel of Ssorlang, Myashtlan is both the
  symbolic capital and the economic center of the empire.
  A raised city of sharp spires and architecture inspired by
  the temples of the Shadowed West, Myashtlan com-
  mands a panoramic view in all directions: the Laeysian
  Sea to the south and west, the Anduran Mountains to the
  north, and the forests and rivers of neighboring Darawan.
  From here the Emerald Throne surveys its own lands and
  looks to those that the drakon one day intend to conquer. 
  Humanoids willing to pay the steep entrance fees are
  welcome in Myashtlan, invited to bring foreign goods
  and trade in the legendary emporiums of the City of the
  Emperor. The weapons, exotic materials, poisons, and
  hallucinogenic drugs available in Myashtlan markets—
  most of which are illegal in the Northland kingdoms—
  are commonly purchased and carried into foreign lands.
  The Noctayshan Palace, an elegant fortress crowned with
  a tall, glyph-carved obelisk, rises above all other build-
  ings at the city’s heart. Situated closest to the surround-
  ing forest, one of the city’s most feared locations is the
  Moryan Temple, home to the assassins’ guild known as
  the Brood of Ahzari. 
  Xincayot: (Small city, pop. 9,329) Nestled in a steamy
  Laeysian bay, Xincayot is a mist-shrouded city that pre-
  serves the old lore from early Ssorlang and the Zimalan
  culture that sired it. As the home of the Amotuan faction,
  those drakon who would delve into the secrets of their
  erstwhile naga masters come to Xincayot and entreat the
  ruling council. Though publicly outlawed by the Emerald
  Throne, worship of Axaluatl exists in Xincayot in under-
  ground shrines. These Amotuan cultists who venerate the
  Shadow Serpent often fund expeditions into Zimala, hop-
  ing to tap the power of the long dead naga empire and
  unearth its buried secrets. Such expeditions are always
  led by zealous drakon, but other humanoids are indis-
  criminately hired as well—so long as they prove their
  loyalty to the cult by submitting to its venomous rites.
  A wide, squat pyramid, built in the style of old Zimala, is
  the city’s centerpiece. The entire structure serves as an
  arena for gladiatorial sport, where drakon champions
  entertain the city’s elite daily as they battle humanoid
  captives of the state. When the slave stocks are emptied,
  the snake men cull from slaves of Kanthara, selecting the
  hardiest specimens to ensure good sport. Gladiators who
  prove the most resilient earn the right to move onto the
  next level. The bottom of the arena is flooded with water
  55
  
  and the slaves must survive the entrance of one or more
  dire anacondas. The very few who manage to slay these
  dreaded beasts earn the right to fight against—and find
  dignified death at the hands of—Ssorlang’s most
  renowned warriors. Emperor Vithoon and Prince Zurasak
  personally attend these sports several times each year,
  especially during the Festival of the Dead. Of greatest
  renown are those occasions when the prince himself
  deigns to enter the arena.
  Recently, a brash and arrogant drakon was exiled from
  the Xincayot for planning to overthrow its current ruler.
  Lord Yollotl, feared for his exceptional sadism, has
  quelled many such coups. Commoners who dare to rise
  against him adorn the shoreline, spitted on tall pikes.
  Tarras (Atlacatlan)
  No leader
  Population: Unknown
  Resources: Many, but none exported
  Capital: None
  H
  alf the size of the Xulmec peninsula, the great
  island of Tarras is a place of great frustration to
  the expansionist-minded lords and kings of the
  Northlands. Lush with untapped natural resources, treas-
  ure-laden ruins as old as dragonkind, and priceless fauna
  and flora awaiting retrieval, the island yet remains a prize
  that none can touch. Throughout recorded history, there
  has always been a monster dwelling on the island—no
  one can kill it, and all those who have tried have been
  slain and devoured. It is known simply as the Beast of
  Tarras.
  It is said that the monsters that dwelt in Tarras were no
  match for the dragons that once ruled the world, and that
  their servitor races—including humans, dwarves, and
  elves—were once able to build cities, temples, and tombs
  within the island. Yet when the Reign of Dragons ended,
  the monsters went unchecked, forcing the servitor races
  who remained to flee the island or be eaten. Since that
  time, thousands of years in the past, the island has been a
  perilous frontier too dangerous to settle upon.
  Many have tried. Captains sailing close to Tarras will see
  an eerie chain of ruined ports along every coast, each a
  failed colony. Bodies are seldom seen, remains having
  been devoured, and the buildings themselves smashed as
  though stomped upon by titans. Over the centuries, kings
  and lord-barons have sent champions to the island—
  knights, wizards, adventurers—to slay the Beast of
  Tarras. None have returned.
  Some see the Beast as apocryphal, a grandiose hoax per-
  petuated by pirates to keep the sovereigns of the
  Northland away from their hidden troves—though the
  existence of the Barrier Isles discredits this notion.
  Others say Tarras is in fact a paradise island, and all who
  have ventured deep within its primeval groves found a
  fey, utopian city whose enchantments ensure they never
  leave. Occasional spans of time without sightings of the
  Beast have led to speculation that it periodically hiber-
  nates from anywhere from one year to one hundred at a
  time. During these periods, the bold and adventurous
  dare to land upon the island’s shores and journey inland.
  Inevitably, the Beast reveals itself again, and the fledg-
  ling ports join the others in the tortuous graveyard of
  ruins upon the Tarrasan shore.
  Most believe the monster is very real, yet a hundred sur-
  vivors claiming to have glimpsed it have provided a hun-
  dred different descriptions. Some claim it is like a drag-
  on, though wingless, stalking about like a predatory
  dinosaur, while others claim it is made of stone and walks
  like a bird with numerous sword-like talons clawing the
  air … or shelled like a turtle, spine-ridged, beaked like a
  roc … or slithering like a snake, with pincers that can
  sunder rock and teeth that can lacerate metal. Each
  account does agree on several points: The monster is a
  behemoth, terrible to behold, and mindless in its pursuit
  for food—both magic and steel fail against it, and the
  only means of survival is unfettered flight. The sole con-
  solation remaining is that the Beast never leaves the
  island.
  Although it is the most feared creature on Tarras—or
  indeed, possibly anywhere in the Known Realms—the
  Beast is by no means the only thing worth fearing.
  Dinosaurs roam in great numbers within the ancient
  forests and hills, dire animals of all kinds stalk the land-
  scape, and more extraordinary monsters such as bulettes,
  gray renders, and yrthaks have been seen. According to
  many reports, even dragons still lair in mountainous
  aeries ringing the island, their hoards containing riches
  from ages past.
  Tarras has played a role in many cultures over the cen-
  turies. Barbarians from the Frost Barrens often send their
  young men and women to the island’s northern edge to
  survive for a few nights as a coming-of-age rite.
  Northland kingdoms occasionally send hated exiles to
  the island for the beasts to slay when their laws prohibit
  execution. The people of Xulmec name the island
  Atlacatlan, the Dwelling of Cursed Things, and believe
  that the overgod Madrah imprisoned the demons of the
  earth there. If the people do not give him proper rever-
  ence, he will forge a bridge between Atlacatlan and
  Xulmec, unleashing its monstrous denizens upon them.
  Cynical priests believe that the very presence of the
  56
  
  Dujamar islands is evidence of this belief—that the land
  is steadily rising up from the water to create that bridge,
  a clear sign of Madrah’s growing displeasure.
  Xulmec City-States
  Various sovereigns
  Population: ?
  Resources: Gold, cloth, salt, animal pelts, cotton, rubber,
  corn, cacao beans, jade, obsidian, greenstone
  Capital: —
  T
  he seven city-states known collectively as Xulmec
  (shool-mek) grew from the discarded shackles of
  the mighty but long-faded Zimalan Empire. When
  the snake men struggled against their naga progenitors
  during the Wrath of Serpents millennia ago, the human
  slaves fled captivity. Too focused on their own survival,
  the nagas were unable to stop this exodus. Some even
  claim that it was the altruistic guardian nagas who set
  them loose, prompting their rise to freedom.
  A slave named Huamec took charge of his people and led
  the thousands through the dangers of the Azcatlepi
  Jungle. Legends claim that Huamec revealed and slew
  the drakon assassins sent against him, kept at bay the
  monstrous dinosaurs of the jungle, and defeated the min-
  ions of the Shadow Serpent.
  Huamec led his people west, hoping to reach lands far
  beyond Zimalan dominion. In a dream, a winged serpent,
  plumed with the feathers of the quetzal bird, came to
  Huamec and told him to journey northward instead. He
  named it the quetzal couatl (“bird-snake”), and in his
  mind it became a symbol of hope and freedom. When
  Huamec led the way north, his people followed without
  protest. Crossing the Texcalapan Strait, they reached the
  shores of the Xulmec peninsula, located on Zimala’s
  northern frontier.
  According to myth, Huamec and the tribal chiefs were
  met there by nine couatls, who promptly disappeared into
  the jungle. The tribal chiefs pursued them, hoping for
  visions of their own. In an event known today as the
  Feathered Hunt, the couatls led each on a chase through
  the forests, and it is said that where each chief found his
  quarry, there he claimed the land where his city would be
  built. In every incarnation of this myth, each chieftain’s
  pursuit of the couatls led to a different creature altogeth-
  er, and around this creature each city-state has based its
  culture.
  Taking these events as an omen to cease their flight, the
  humans settled into the lowlands, highlands, and lush
  rainforests, becoming the Xulmecs. Divided into nine
  large, oft-warring tribes, they built magnificent cities and
  found new identities free of naga lordship. Though inde-
  pendently ruled, each city pays homage to Madrah, Lord
  of the Earth and Sky. The first kings of each tribe were
  granted divine office by Madrah, and now lead their
  cities through the intermediaries of the priests and the
  wisdom of their mortal kings.
  Xulmecs are a hardy people, averaging five and a half
  feet in height. Their skin is light brown and their hair is
  coarse, dark, and straight. Hairstyle is based on social
  class; for instance, the way a warrior binds his hair
  reflects his martial accomplishment. One Xulmec can
  gauge the prowess of another according to this varying
  style. Women always wear their hair long and loose,
  braiding it with ribbons only during festivals or religious
  ceremonies. While this description is a rough approxima-
  tion of the people, there are many varied exceptions—
  such as the ruddier complexions of Amoyas and the
  sharper features of the Darawans.
  Clothing worn by Xulmecs reflects the temperatures of
  their respective homes. They typically wear loose gar-
  ments made of cotton, adorned with beads, flowers, and
  precious metals as appropriate by class. Most Xulmec
  warriors wear leather or quilted armor, covered with a
  tlahuiztl, a cotton body suit whose color and array of
  feathers reflect military status. A warrior’s status is based
  not on the number of his kills, but on the number of peo-
  ple he has captured in his lifetime.
  Though Xulmecs have their own language, a tongue
  descended from Old Naga, they do not have a written
  language as the Northlanders understand it. Their writing
  is logographic, with symbols representing an entire spo-
  ken word without indication of its pronunciation. These
  glyphs serve as ideograms, in which the image depicted
  expresses its own nature but not other associated con-
  cepts. Thus the idea of new life can be represented by a
  swaddled newborn, daytime by a blazing sun, and mur-
  der by a sundered skull. To convey movement, migration,
  or a sequence of events, a trail of footprints may lead in
  the relevant direction. Xulmec glyphs are carved in many
  surfaces, usually temples and the houses of nobles, and
  are frequently recorded in sheaves of bark-paper called
  amatl, a type of book called a codex. 
  Xulmec art is produced from a wide variety of materials.
  Obsidian, turquoise, precious metals, gemstones, feath-
  ers, and even human remains are manipulated with aston-
  ishing patience and skill, usually in the form of masks,
  pottery, statues, shields, headdresses, and mosaics.
  Reliefs are commonly carved in stone surfaces, whether
  it is the façade of a great temple or the natural walls of a
  commoner’s home. Artists incorporate animal figures
  into most of their art, reflecting the Xulmec respect and
  57
  
  fear of the natural world. Depictions of unnatural crea-
  tures such as demons or the undead is considered blas-
  phemous and beckons ill fortune. Curiously, skeletal rep-
  resentations of their fallen are common, for the Xulmec
  people are not as averse as Northlanders to the presence
  of the true dead.
  Xulmec architecture is a testament to their past, for each
  city is a multitude of buildings made of adobe and stone.
  Peasant homes, which sprawl throughout the city and
  along its fringes, are small affairs, thatched with grass
  and constructed with interwoven twigs and mud. Houses
  of nobility are made of plastered brick or stone and paint-
  ed with bright colors. Government buildings and royal
  palaces are two or three stories high, containing hundreds
  of rooms, and are a labyrinth of wide and narrow pas-
  sages intended to mislead intruders.
  All buildings are arranged around the centerpiece of
  Xulmec society: the great terraced pyramids, immense
  structures thrust into the sky like small mountains. A
  multitude of steps leads to flat summits, which are
  crowned with the extravagant High Temples, stone edi-
  fices dedicated to the cities’ patron gods. Surrounding
  enclosures house priests and elite warriors and open
  courts for sacred games. Before each temple, a paved
  plaza makes room for crowds on holy days and daily sac-
  rifices. Lesser pyramid-temples of smaller size are scat-
  tered throughout the cities and even outlying villages.
  Worship at such shrines so pervades Xulmec culture that
  even the lowliest peasant can reach a temple from his
  home within a matter of minutes. While not every city-
  state boasts structures of this design, this pyramidal
  architecture reflects their ancestry among the Zimalan
  culture and can be found in smaller scale upon sacred
  buildings of every city. 
  The city-states have made some remarkable achieve-
  ments over the millennia. Roads connect most cities, laid
  with flat stones and walled at higher elevations. A com-
  plex irrigation system of aqueducts and channels links
  each city to nearby rivers, ushering water into the city
  proper. Artificial gardens called chinampas lie upon shal-
  low lakes and riverbeds and provide a wealth of crops,
  including corn, beans, squash, tomatoes, peppers, and
  flowers.
  Xulmec society is guided by its priests, who possess sta-
  tus equal to that of the nobility. Sovereigns and high
  priests are the most powerful individuals in the land,
  directing the laws and holy days that govern the cities.
  Merchants and warriors make up the middle class, while
  commoners and laborers comprise the lowest tier of soci-
  ety. Because Xulmecs spent centuries as servants and
  ultimately slaves of the Zimalan Empire, slavery as a sta-
  tion is forbidden by law. However, the merchants and
  nobles they serve often treat commoners as little better
  than slaves. Commoners, by accomplishment or suffi-
  cient wealth, can elevate themselves to merchants, war-
  riors, or priests, but Xulmec nobility are born into their
  caste.
  The Xulmec emphasis on prophecy and cosmic portent
  should not be understated. Xulmecs believe that the Sun
  soars in orbit around the earth, steadily drawing closer to
  it like a ship caught in a maelstrom. When it reaches the
  earth, an apocalypse of fire will destroy the world. Only
  the might of Madrah keeps the fiery sphere at bay, and to
  maintain his strength, the god requires sacrifice from his
  people. Such sacrifices come in the form of treasure,
  food, plants, animals—and according to some Xulmecs,
  flesh and blood. The priests claim that the world was
  already destroyed once in this way. Madrah resurrected
  the earth and its people, but the effort weakened him so
  much he requires this sacrificial sustenance. Most
  Xulmecs believe that but for their daily sacrifice, the
  world would swiftly end in fire once more.
  Though the city-states often contend with one other, they
  always unite against common threats to all of Xulmec. If
  Xulmec falls, so too does the world itself.
  Existing in the depths of the earth is Mictlan, the
  Underworld of Xulmec belief, a realm whose description
  overlaps that of the Underdeep. The spirits of the dead
  venture through the Underworld, a journey believed to
  take approximately two years, in search of the immortal
  domains of the gods. Priests, nobles, and the wealthy are
  entombed with this journey in mind upon death, with
  magic items frequently interred with them to equip them
  for the trials they face. Although only spirits can traverse
  this labyrinthine realm, it is widely believed that the
  Mochitla River flows into Omictlan itself and those
  among the living who are foolish or desperate enough to
  try to reach the Underworld must first pass through the
  Maw of Death at the river’s end. The people of Maras
  believe that the sacred cenotes of their land may also lead
  to Omictlan.
  It is also believed that upon their death, the kings and
  queens of Xulmec are given a chance to attain divine sta-
  tus. If they can navigate the spiritual terrain of Mictlan
  and find the select path ordained by Madrah himself, they
  will transcend the mortal rulership they once knew and
  become gods of their beloved people. The strength of this
  belief (and the new deities created because of it) often
  prompts competition among the rulers of each state for
  any advantage that will assist them on their afterlife jour-
  ney. 
  Xulmec relations with foreign powers vary greatly. Some
  city-states, such as Kaatlan, trade with visitors, while
  others, like Teotcoatlan, offer alliance and mutual educa-
  tion. Still others—notably Chuzec and the less tolerant
  58
  
  people of Kaatlan—see Northlanders as pale-skinned
  demons whose talk of trade and alliance is a mere pref-
  ace to conquest. These Xulmecs are as likely to attack,
  scalp, or capture such visitors in the wild as ignore them
  altogether. Most folk from the Lostlands are seen as
  respectable, if untrustworthy.
  Central and eastern Xulmec is a land of verdant rain-
  forests, winding rivers, lowland marshes, and limestone
  cliffs, while in the west rise the Anduran and Atlauhtli
  Mountains. Teeming with life, the animals of the penin-
  sula range from harmless plant-eaters to deadly carni-
  vores. Jaguars, revered by the Xulmecs of Maras, prowl
  the rainforests along with deer, capybaras, and all manner
  of serpents. Birds of prey and carrion rule the skies over-
  head, and piranha and caimans haunt the waterways.
  Hardy llamas are used in the mountains for transportation
  of goods, from water to building materials, though
  human porters carry heavier loads. 
  Horses are not native to Xulmec, and whenever
  Northland foreigners bring them across the ocean, they
  are seen as strange, exotic beasts. In their place, may
  Xulmecs ride the huezcatla, large rodents as tall as hors-
  es with thin, coarse fur. As dire cousins of the capybara,
  they are ideal for travel across marshes and rivers, for
  they move faster in water than on land. 
  The people of each city once belonged to a different
  province within the Zimalan Empire. Thousands of years
  later, in their own way, each still adheres to the customs
  of their old masters. Some, like the people of Amoya,
  have shunned the old ways and embraced newer ideas,
  while others, like the Chuzecs, have married old tradi-
  tions with the edicts of new divinities. 
  There are seven existing city-states within Xulmec and
  are summarized as follows. The culture of the eighth
  city-state, Uatazan, was all but annihilated by the drakon
  centuries ago (see Ssorlang), the tattered remains of its
  populace now serving the snake men as slaves.
  Amoya: (Large city, pop. 23,550) When Anahuara, the
  chieftain of the Amoya (ah-moy-uh) tribe, climbed into
  the Anduran Mountains during the Feathered Hunt, she
  met a grim figure wrapped in dark shrouds. The high
  mountain wind stirred the cowl from its face, and she
  found herself looking upon her father, who had been slain
  by the drakon several years before. Unafraid, she took
  counsel with the apparition and soon founded the moun-
  tain province of the Amoya tribe. She disappeared a few
  years later, having ventured into the Maw of Death on a
  quest to secure the future for her people. Anahuara
  returned again as the patroness of the young city-state
  and the goddess of the moons.
  The city of Amoya, lodged nearly ten thousand feet
  above sea level, holds dominion over the southern half of
  the Anduran Mountains. Walled roads wind about the
  jagged terrain and suspension bridges span otherwise
  impassible gorges, linking an extensive web of villages
  with the city at its hub. The highland-dwelling people
  raise llamas to serve as pack animals, carrying wool and
  meat to the villages along the coastline and the foot of the
  mountains in exchange for crops. The city of Amoya
  itself is arranged in terraces formed upon the steep slopes
  of Mt. Cuahtec, encircling the mountain halfway around.
  The Andurans offer many resources, yielding guano for
  fertilizer, and many precious metals. Most prized is sil-
  ver, the “Tears of Anahuara,” which is crafted into elab-
  orate jewelry and forged into ceremonial weapons.
  The people of Amoya revere their dead like no other cul-
  ture in the Southlands. To them, the death of one’s body
  is a transition of life, and not death at all, a state where
  the body becomes inert and the spirit strengthens. When
  their loved ones pass into this second phase of existence,
  their bodies are mummified and seated in places of
  honor. Commoners inter them in sacred, communal
  chambers, visiting them when they seek guidance and
  during holy days, while nobles and those of royal blood
  clothe their dead in fine garments and jewelry, even
  escorting them out of family vaults for all to see. Due to
  this belief, Amoyas fear fire and acid, for these energies
  consume the material body and disperse the spirit. For
  the same reason, they are horrified by the sky burials
  practiced by the Darawan.
  It is common for Amoya warriors to adorn themselves
  with the bones of their ancestors, believing that a portion
  of their spirit guides and protects them. Those who can
  afford it often have these macabre accoutrements enchant-
  ed or blessed by their high priests, fashioning weapons and
  armor from the corpses of their beloved dead. The tombs
  of the Amoya are never fully sealed, but they are frequent-
  ly trapped to discourage Northland treasure hunters.
  Ten years ago, the last king of Amoya was slain by
  drakon wizardry, his body horrifically disintegrated.
  With no heirs to assume sovereignty, the royal bloodline
  was broken. Communing with their eternal matron,
  Anahuara, the priests performed ancient rites and reani-
  mated the mummified remains of Chull’pak, the king’s
  father and predecessor, who once ruled the city-state for
  forty years before passing into the next phase of his exis-
  tence. Now King Chull’pak reigns again, a man so dedi-
  cated to his people that he is willing to deny the well-
  deserved repose of “death” to bear the mantle of sover-
  eignty indefinitely. A figure of frightening spiritual and
  corporeal power, the king is a mummy lord who will suf-
  fer no complacency from his people and no aggression
  from his enemies.
  Though the king’s policy includes vigilance and hostility
  against the snake men of Ssorlang, he encourages trade
  59
  
  with all human societies. However, only the undaunted or
  the morbidly fascinated emissaries of other lands are
  willing to seek audience with the undead king, whose
  chilling presence is difficult to endure.
  Athua: (Large city, pop. 24,108) During the Feathered
  Hunt, Ilhuicatl, first chief of the Athuan tribe, was led
  eastward across the peninsula until he came to the edge
  of the land itself. Here he found his quarry, a beautiful
  mermaid to whom he professed his love. Yet the siren
  evaded him. At last he returned to his people and estab-
  lished the city of Athua. When this long labor was com-
  plete, the mermaid returned, beckoning him into the
  waves. Ilhuicatl joined her and was presumed drowned—
  yet he emerged again years later as Athua’s patron god,
  sponsored by Madrah himself and the goddess Pelagia.
  The most powerful of the coastal city-states, Athua is
  second only to Teotcoatlan in size and influence. Ruled
  by Queen Citlalli and her family, Athua controls the east-
  ern coastline and protects the peninsula from seafaring
  invaders. Along with Darawan, Athua is the undisputed
  master of the waters surrounding Xulmec. Any foreign
  power that seeks to invade must contend with the boat-
  men of Athua, whose knowledge of the sea is unmatched.
  The Athuans worship the god who was their first chief-
  tain, Ilhuicatl, and believe that the world owes its life to
  the bounties of the water. The respect and affinity Athua
  has for the sea has made them a number of marine-
  dwelling friends, including merfolk and tritons. Alliances
  with the merfolk are as ephemeral as the tide itself, as
  their fickle disposition does not lend itself to dependable,
  long-term cooperation. The tritons, however, are commit-
  ted to aiding their human friends in times of need, for
  they revere the same gods. Though smaller in number—
  as most of their people dwell farther north in colder
  waters—the tritons are a boon to their human allies. Yet
  this friendship has earned Athua the enmity of both
  sahuagin and locathah, against whom the people remain
  vigilant.
  On the eastern fringe of their realm, the Athuans give a
  wide birth to the ruin of Ayoxatlan, a dark and dangerous
  hulk perched upon the rocky coast. A remnant of the old
  Zimalan Empire, the structure is believed to have been
  one side of a vast bridge spanning the Surya Sea. 
  Chuzec: (Large city, pop. 23,100) Nearly one thousand
  years ago, the people of Chuzec were believed destroyed
  when the twin eruptions of Mt. Ixli and Mt. Tapayxain
  buried their valley in molten lava and ash. In the years of
  silence that followed, few ventured into the valley to look
  upon the volcanic cairn. To the astonishment of the other
  city-states, the people of Chuzec emerged from the
  cracked basaltic shell that had sheltered them. The city
  remained perfectly intact, believed to have been shielded
  from the killing lava by Tlachinozal, a god of fire.
  Reborn within the earthen cocoon, the Chuzec culture
  had been transformed, and they forsook all gods but
  Tlachinozal, whom they name as their savior. Such
  monotheism and theocracy is blasphemous to most
  Xulmecs, but the war-like Chuzecs are fanatical in their
  devotion and will kill any who challenge them.
  Xolatl, the Fire Priest, rules the Chuzec. Within the
  Burning Temple, Xolatl and his gruesome priests sacri-
  fice captives to the Fire God daily, wrenching out their
  still-beating hearts and casting their corpses into a holy
  inferno. This frightening aspect of their culture makes
  trade with the other city-states a terse, uncomfortable
  affair, but the Chuzecs are the chief suppliers of obsidian
  to the region, trading in exchange for the produce
  unavailable in their volatile home. Despite the apparent
  ignorance of the clergy of Tlachinozal, Chuzecs were the
  first Xulmecs to practice metallurgy as it is understood
  by Northlanders. While blacksmiths throughout the
  Southlands remain few, the mastery of the Chuzecs has
  been known to rival that of Northland dwarves. For a
  very steep price, non-Xulmec foreigners are allowed to
  visit the city for adventuring or mercantile business.
  The volcanoes in the surrounding valley remain active,
  deterring invaders and treasure hunters both, though the
  meandering flows of lava never touch the city of Chuzec
  itself. Despite these natural dangers, rumors abound of
  caches of gold and platinum guarded by the fiery
  denizens of the mountains, and Chuzec glyphs often
  depict salamanders swimming in the magma beneath the
  valley. Much of Chuzec’s architecture was destroyed and
  rebuilt after the War of Divine Right and the glyphs upon
  them depict that infamous time when the Chuzecs staved
  off the fire giant invaders.
  Darawan: (Large city, pop. ?) Before the rise of
  Ssorlang, the people of Darawan (DAR-uh-wan) made
  forays with the people of Uatazan into the Shadowed
  West. They brought back strange customs, which have
  seeped into their culture over the centuries, along with
  philosophies and dialects often viewed as heretical by
  their neighboring Xulmecs. The people themselves dress
  in darker tones than their fellow Xulmecs, and although
  their physical appearance is quite similar, they often
  imprint their skin with tattoos and frequently shave their
  heads.
  Highly skilled boatmen, the Darawans often troll the
  coastal waters of the entire peninsula in small merchant
  fleets, trading with the people of Athua and Teotcoatlan
  as they go. Wary of foreigners yet frequenting the coast-
  lines, Darawans are often the first Xulmecs that
  Northlanders meet when approaching the peninsula by
  sea. Their frosty demeanor does not paint a welcoming
  picture of the Xulmec people, a fact that dismays the
  60
  
  friendlier folk of Teotcoat-
  lan. Locally, Darawans use
  kayaks in narrow rivers and
  large canoes along the
  coast.
  Darawan is the only city-
  state that regularly trades
  with the hated nation of
  Ssorlang, and for this it
  earns the animosity and
  scorn of their neighbors.
  The relationship is a prag-
  matic one; the Darawans
  export untaxed goods to the
  drakon for free access to
  the Laeysian Sea and its
  connecting waterways. Such water traffic gives Darawan
  merchants plenty of imports that the rest of Xulmec could
  not otherwise procure, a fact the other city-states try to
  ignore. Tensions between the Darawan humans and
  drakon are often strained, for the arrogance of the latter
  is difficult for the freedom-loving Xulmecs to tolerate.
  Darawans do not approve of the drakon’s predilection for
  slavery, but remain politically neutral and do not take
  action against them. Prince Zurasak, the son of
  Ssorlang’s emperor, has instigated numerous border skir-
  mishes, however, that Darawan cannot long ignore. 
  Governed by a council of minor sovereigns, who in turn
  represent the many villages of the city-state, Darawan is
  the closest thing Xulmec has to a republic. Councilor
  Jutarat is Darawan’s most influential figure, a serious-
  minded man who considers all sides before taking action.
  Darawans honor all the Southland divinities, but they
  also maintain strange philosophies that respectfully
  deemphasize the importance of the gods. They revere the
  intangible forces of time and destiny, believing less in the
  physical and more in the spiritual. Such doctrines are
  often seen as heretical to the other Xulmec city-states. 
  Most Darawans practice sky burial, ritually dismember-
  ing their dead and offering the remains to the mountain
  vultures. Believing the spirit is released upon death from
  the body, they do not see this custom as disrespectful.
  The dead of Darawan nobility are taken to the mountain
  monasteries and offered to the scavenger birds in great
  ceremonial gatherings. 
  Kaatlan: (Large city, pop. 21,700) Dominating the
  forests and hills of western Xulmec, Kaatlan (kot-lan) has
  been an ally and enemy many times to every other city-
  state throughout the course of the peninsula’s history. At
  once both warlike and peace-loving, the people are guid-
  ed by the two gods who share rulership of Kaatlan.
  Whichever holds sway over its priests and sovereigns at
  any given time directs it to war or trade. Most feared is
  Coatlimict, the bloodthirsty Skull-Father, who com-
  mands his people to battle, capture, and sacrifice all oth-
  ers. More benevolent is Calchoti, the goddess of rain and
  bringer of life, who through her followers extends the
  welcoming hand of friendship to all other nations. While
  Coatlimict demands blood sacrifice, the only sacrifices
  Calchoti requests are gifts of charity and personal devo-
  tion.
  The political dichotomy of Kaatlan unnerves its neigh-
  boring city-states. Even in times of peace, merchants
  from neighboring cities approach well-armed, ever
  unsure of Kaatlan’s disposition. Most are willing to
  accept this duality and trade with them, for Kaatlan is
  Xulmec’s primary supplier of gold and greenstone; the
  former is famous for appealing to the greed of foreigners
  and the latter has sacred value to most Southlanders.
  Kaatlan regularly trades with the Criestine Colonies by
  means of Omian Pass, but whenever the creeds of
  Coatlimict become dominant, the colonists are quick to
  withdraw the hand of commerce. 
  Presently, the city-state is ruled by King Oztahua, a war-
  rior who serves the interests of Calchoti. However, his
  truest friend and royal advisor is Yaotopol, a priest of
  Coatlimict, and many fear the day when the king yields
  to his friend’s counsel of bloodshed. 
  Kaatlan’s legend of the Feathered Hunt ends with the
  chief unexpectedly cornering a cockatrice the size of a
  man. The hideous bird-thing turned the chief into the
  stone statue that now stands at the edge of the great city
  itself. Yet since that fateful day, the people of Kaatlan
  have found the flocks of small cockatrices that dwell on
  the plains beyond their city to be a boon, deterring
  invaders with the threat of magical petrification. 
  Maras: (Large city, pop. 23,090) When Ahpuchac, first
  chief of Maras (muh-ross), found his quarry in the
  61
  
  Feathered Hunt, he stood face to face with a great jaguar,
  sitting at the edge of a deep cenote. The dire beast even-
  tually dove into the cavernous sinkhole, and after settling
  his people into the surrounding region, Ahpuchac became
  obsessed with his vision and eventually ventured into the
  great hole himself. This natural well, considered the
  sacred grave of their chief, became the center of the
  growing city. Several years later, Ahpuchac “resurfaced”
  as the Black Jaguar, the god in whose province the
  Underworld of Xulmec belief lies.
  Dominating the southern rim of Xulmec, the city-state of
  Maras is a realm teaming with life and beauty. Endless
  rainforests surround limestone hills, sawgrass marshes,
  and sheltered coves. Mangrove and hardwood jungles lie
  to the west surrounding Yectena Bay, while the rocky
  shoreline with its sheltered coves lies to the south and
  east. Of greatest spiritual significance to the people are
  the freshwater cenotes that riddle their domain—large
  limestone sinkholes that lead to an enormous network of
  subterranean rivers. Aside from supplying clear, fresh
  water to the city and its outlying villages, these water-
  ways are believed to lead eventually to Mictlan, the
  Underworld—much like the Mochitla River. 
  Each of the hundreds of cenotes in Maras is different.
  Many lie beneath stony overhangs, while others are open
  to the sky like wells. The caverns within are expansive
  and beautiful, filled with crystal-blue waters and the
  limestone teeth of stalactites and stalagmites. The
  natives’ preoccupation with Mictlan has led to numerous
  expeditions among the caves and rivers below. The
  Maras continually work to secure this subterranean realm
  from mortal enemies even as Ahpuchac himself secures
  it from immortal enemies and evil divinities. Encounters
  with deep-dwelling creatures have become more com-
  monplace over the years, and recent skir-
  mishes with drow patrols venturing close to
  the surface may be a warning of a greater
  conflict to come.
  The city itself is a vast sprawl of pyramids
  that scarcely intrude on the natural world.
  Houses and temples are spaced within gaps
  in the rainforest and carved into the lime-
  stone hills. At the very heart of the city,
  below the sacred Temple of the Cat, lies the
  largest cenote of Maras—its depths consid-
  ered the lair of the Black Jaguar himself.
  King Zacatal is the current ruler of Maras, a
  warrior renowned for his uncompromising
  defense against the mortal threats from
  below. 
  Teotcoatlan: (Metropolis, pop. 42,600) At
  the end of the Feathered Hunt, Mazlopan,
  first chief of the tribe that founded
  Teotcoatlan, beheld a couatl of great size winding a sinu-
  ous dance above an enormous lake. Taking this vision as
  an omen, he laid the foundations of Teotcoatlan, the City
  of Divine Serpents, upon an island at the center of Lake
  Tlanec. When Mazlopan passed into death, he declined
  divine status so that his friend Huamec could ascend in
  his place.
  Teotcoatlan is the glorious pinnacle of Xulmec civiliza-
  tion. Sometimes called the Gilded City for its golden
  avenues and glittering spires, the expansive metropolis is
  connected to the mainland by three stone causeways that
  span the waters of Lake Tlanec. Within the city proper,
  canals allow for canoe traffic along each major street, and
  on its outskirts, fields of chinampas are arrayed to feed
  the populace. In the central plaza, the immense World
  Pyramid rivals the sacred monuments of old Zimala in
  size. The tall structure is surmounted by twin temples
  dedicated to Madrah and Huamext, the gods greatest
  revered by the Teotcoatlans. A series of ascending chan-
  nels, designed to accommodate serpentine bodies, are a
  tribute to the guardian nagas the Xulmecs once served.
  Carvings along each tier of the pyramid tell the history of
  the Xulmec people.
  Except in times of war, Teotcoatlan welcomes all
  Xulmecs freely, but visitors are expected to pay tribute at
  one of the city’s many temples to gain the graces of its
  people. Temples and shrines for every Xulmec god can
  be found here, although Huamecti, Necalli, and
  Yaotlamec are favored above all, save Madrah himself.
  Even foreign clerics are treated with respect, albeit
  grudgingly at times. Teotcoatlan is a city of religious tol-
  erance, one of the few places in the Southlands where
  foreigners can find sanctuary and worship freely.
  62
  
  Teotcoatlan is ruled by King Mactezu and Queen
  Itlanexca, betrothed adolescents newly granted the full
  powers of their titles with the passing of Mactezu’s moth-
  er, Queen Cetlana. Rumors have spread far and wide that
  the young king and queen are mentored by a benevolent
  guardian naga in the deep halls of the palace, who teach-
  es them the virtues of Cynhara, the peace-loving goddess
  fathered by Madrah himself millennia ago. Reports of
  such a creature trouble the cynical nobles of the city and
  generate unrest among those who profit from strife.
  Boasting the largest military in all of Xulmec, the
  Teotcoatlans are respected by all. They are also the most
  famous riders of the huezcatla, their soldiers seemingly
  living on huezcatla-back and always patrolling the
  fringes of Lake Tlanec and the nearby rivers. 
  Zimala
  (The Old Naga Empire)
  No ruler
  Population: Unknown
  Resources: Gold, silver, jewelry, jade
  Capital: Teoyotlan 
  T
  he Island of Obsidian, Zimala, is a lost world rid-
  dled with ancient ruins, buried wealth, and death
  in many forms. At least, that is how the nations of
  the Northlands regard it. The truth of this unsettled realm
  lies beyond the Azcatlepi Jungle and behind the mono-
  lithic Nahualli Mountains. As the fabled homeland of the
  nagas—said to be one of the first races to crawl the face
  of Áereth and having built one of history’s most glorious
  civilizations—it is a place about which many tales are
  told and few facts are known.
  The humans of Xulmec, whose education and civilization
  were refined by the nagas, know better than their
  Northland cousins to penetrate the hunting grounds of
  their ancient masters. Nevertheless, boatmen from
  Darawan and rangers from Maras are known to sell their
  services as guides to foreign explorers—provided they
  are paid well and in advance.
  Though their society is long since shattered and their
  magic no longer unified, nagas are by no means extinct.
  Some lurk still in the dark places, coiled and hateful.
  Many have made their way, one by one, to lands beyond
  their old borders, and it is not unheard of for nagas to
  forge alliances with other beings. Naturally dominant,
  nagas make servants out of lesser creatures. Many lone
  nagas, insane and malevolent, now wander hidden
  beneath the surface of the world. Yet most are still found
  here, in the prolific jungles where nature—and nature’s
  most fearsome servants—roam free.
  Zimala holds great appeal to the Northland kingdoms.
  The promise of untold wealth, lost magics, and lush nat-
  ural resources is a constant siren cry to the avaricious
  kings and lord-barons. Many expeditions have launched,
  but the dangers of the Barrier Isles and the Surya Sea
  forces most explorers to find an alternate route. Those
  who reach the mainland must press through the dense
  Azcatlepi Jungle, a humid realm as rife with tropical
  flora as with bloodthirsty fauna.
  Monstrous creatures such as achaierai, behirs, and shad-
  uars are said to prowl the shadowy depths. Yet tales also
  speak of sentinels sent by the gods to watch over the
  once-blessed island, beneficent creatures such as couatls
  and lillends who offer lost explorers safety for a day or
  week. Behind the curtain of rainforests lie great cities
  raised millennia ago by the magic of nagas and the hands
  of their servants and slaves. Rumored to lair in these
  ruins are the nagas themselves, ready with poisonous
  fang and lethal spell against intruders who would plunder
  their homes. Guardian nagas, the exiled species that once
  befriended humans, are said to wait in solemn vigilance
  over the tombs and oldest secrets of the Zimalan Empire.
  Whether an adventurer today would face their friendship
  or their wrath is a matter of great speculation.
  In the millennia since the fall of the Zimalan Empire,
  nature has reclaimed the land where its cities were built.
  Few maps exist now that mark the location of these van-
  ished cities, though rumor suggests that the kings and
  queens of the Xulmec city-states may possess some. To
  date, only the ruined city of Teoyotlan, the ancient capi-
  tal of Zimala, has been found and is often marked on
  explorers’ maps. Such a mark, however, does not mean
  the perilous journey to the city itself is any easier to
  make.
  63
  
  O
  nce one of the cradles of civilization, the scat-
  tered realms that comprise the Lostlands are but
  shadows of the mighty empire that brought them
  to life. Although the Sphinx Emperors have been gone
  for eons, their legacy lives on—virtually all of the tribes
  and nations in this desolate region remain entwined with
  the past in some manner or another. Travelers from the
  North have always found that journeying to the Lostlands
  is akin to stepping through a portal in time—the majestic
  buildings in these exotic lands are all centuries old, the
  poetry and paintings are products of artists long
  deceased, and the laws and traditions, to be charitable,
  are barbaric and primitive. The rest of the world has
  moved toward the Age of Man; the Lostlands, primal and
  savage, have not. 
  For this reason, many sages believe that the Lostlands are
  doomed to remain savage and bleak for still more cen-
  turies to come. Unlike their neighbors to the North, the
  denizens of the Lostlands have been unable to let go of
  their past, and so cannot forge their own identity. While
  several scholars believe that this is merely the result of
  eons of slavery—the former servants of the Sphinx
  Emperors still do not know how to act as masters—oth-
  ers believe the stagnancy of the region to have a more
  sinister cause. Several theories champion the notion that
  the races currently living in the Lostlands are unwitting
  caretakers, controlled by powerful eldritch forces and
  unable to become independent. These theories also claim
  that when certain prophecies come to pass, the Sphinx
  Emperors will return to their homelands, and reclaim
  their birthright and power.
  The legendary ferocity of the Lostlands is also what
  makes the region a mystery to the rest of the world. Few
  who dare to make the arduous journey down to these wild
  regions ever return to civilization … even fewer return
  unscarred by the experience. Not without good reason is
  it said that the Lostlands are a breeding ground for mad-
  ness. However, ancient stories and riddles about the
  Khonsurian Empire and its treasures lead certain adven-
  turous souls—the brave and the foolish—to this part of
  the world. It is commonly said that every mortal desire
  can be lost or found, bought or sold in the Lostlands … it
  is all just a matter of paying the price. 
  Climate and Seasons
  For the most part, the Lostlands are home to challenging
  and oftentimes hostile environments. The temperatures
  and seasons in this part of the world are relatively con-
  stant, with uncomfortable warmth permeating this
  strange region throughout the seasons. The only primary
  difference between the various regions of the Lostlands is
  precipitation—some areas are quite arid, while others are
  dank and humid, with their skies constantly darkened by
  ominous storm clouds. Only in these humid regions is the
  passing of the seasons apparent, as the summer and
  autumn seasons offer brief respite from the unending
  rains. 
  The nations of the Lostlands are dominated by the vast
  Ghetrian Desert. As go the fortunes of the desert, so go
  the rest of the Lostlands. Mild seasons in the desert gen-
  erally mark good weather and bountiful crops in the
  region, while powerful sandstorms or blistering summers
  can create havoc. Only the secretive Isles of Tharnaka
  manage to escape the touch of the desert, but even there,
  the lush jungles and persistently heavy rains make the
  lands virtually inhospitable to travelers.
  In the northernmost regions of the Lostlands, the environ-
  ment is not quite as treacherous as in the rest of the for-
  bidding territory, yet it still has its perils. The Vermilion
  Steppes, still gently touched on its southern border by the
  desert, can reach blistering temperatures during the sum-
  mer months. However, the area is also renowned for the
  powerful winds that slash across the crimson grasslands,
  dropping temperatures at night to near-freezing. The fact
  that the elven tribes can even grow crops in this violent
  region, let alone do so successfully, is a tribute to the skill
  and the persistence of these wild creatures. This is the part
  of the Lostlands that is perhaps best known to the rest of
  the world, as most of its more civilized merchants can be
  found in this particular region.
  64
  Chapter 3
  The Lostlands
  
  The center of the Lostlands is completely dominated by
  two massive areas: the Ghetrian Desert and the Devil’s
  Cauldron, which still burns brightly at the westernmost
  border of the desert. All life depends on the twin rivers
  that wind their way through this hellish inferno, the
  Ctesiphal and the Ctabakul (or the Twins, as they are
  commonly called in the remnants of the Old Empire). All
  of the inhabited towns and cities lie on the banks of these
  rivers, save for the dark city of Rhaz al-Khali, which is
  rumored to thrive only by the grace—or the damnation—
  of the darkest gods. Even the old imperial roads never
  stray too far from the banks of these mighty rivers, serv-
  ing as a reminder that to wander too far into the desert is
  to risk death, madness … or worse. 
  In the southernmost regions of the Lostlands, the
  Herennia Mountains serve to shield most of the area from
  the punishing heat of the Ghetrian Desert. However, this
  region is no less hostile, as thick, sinister jungles sprawl
  relentlessly over this territory. Between the powerful
  rainy seasons and the gigantic black trees that tower over
  the land, the light of the sun rarely reaches the ground,
  keeping the region perpetually shrouded in shadow. The
  few breaks in the rainy seasons are marked by the com-
  ing of the Pteral Swarms, which rain death upon the land
  instead of dark water. 
  Timekeeping and
  Celestial Bodies
  The manner by which time is measured in the Lostlands
  was established eons ago by the first rulers of the
  Khonsurian Empire. This calendar, which is commonly
  called the Sphinx Calendar throughout the rest of the
  world, is based on the lunar cycle, and spans only 10
  months, each of which is 35 days. A leap month called
  the Imperial Reckoning is inserted into the calendar
  every third year (or, in times past, by imperial decree) to
  restore balance between the calendar and the traditional
  seasons. The Imperial Reckoning lasts 15 days, and is
  marked in most of the nations of the Lostlands with three
  festival days—one to open the Reckoning (the
  Dawnday), one at the month’s midpoint (the Midday),
  and one to close the Reckoning (the Duskday). A few
  areas in the Lostlands have adopted the more modern
  Criestine calendar, but most of its inhabitants still cling to
  the old customs and follow the traditional Sphinx
  Calendar.
  Each of the individual nations and religions of the
  Lostlands celebrate many holy days during the year, and
  travelers can expect to encounter any number of festivals
  and feasts. While there are few common festival days or
  celebrations, the following holidays are common to all
  cultures:
  Day of the Fifth Prince: Celebrated each year during the
  summer months, this three-day festival is a time of
  somber mourning and reflection, meant to honor the
  dead. The holiday dates back to the Second Dynasty of
  the Khonsurian Empire, when a favorite son of the great
  Emperor Cnedaten—Djedkara, the Fifth Prince—van-
  ished under mysterious circumstances, supposedly kid-
  napped by a powerful demon prince and taken to the
  Underworld. Although few still care to honor the loss of
  the Fifth Prince (except in Xa Deshret), the tradition of
  remembering the missing and the dead during this time
  remains throughout the entire region. Most formal buri-
  als take place during this festival, followed by tradition-
  al toasts of wine to the dead. 
  65
  
  Shadows Fall: This holiday, which is celebrated on the
  fourth day of each new year, marks the anniversary of the
  arrival of the Shadow Star—the great dark star that fell
  from the heavens and cracked the world, creating the
  great crater in the eastern regions of the Vermilion
  Steppes known as the Devil’s Cauldron. Like the mad-
  ness that was unleashed during the coming of the Shadow
  Star, the revelries of Shadows Fall are marked by chaos.
  The celebrants of Shadows Fall typically wear loud, out-
  rageous costumes and drink copious amounts of hard
  spirits throughout this two-day festival, and the feasting
  is capped with the burning of giant crimson pyres, which
  are said to drive away evil spirits and the touch of mad-
  ness from the souls of the innocent.
  Thirdstar: Celebrated every third year, this holiday is
  traditionally observed a dozen or so days before the
  Summer Solstice, when three stars—Pharisen, Otergal,
  and Xherhu—align themselves together in a straight line
  above the moon. Thirdstar is a holiday of new begin-
  nings, and it is considered fortuitous to embark upon new
  journeys or enterprises at this time. Wars (and offering of
  peace) are often declared at Thirdstar. Additionally, it is
  believed that the gates to both heaven and hell open dur-
  ing the stellar alignment, allowing spirits to travel
  between the various planes of existence. 
  Ironically, while the holiday is celebrated throughout the
  Lostlands as a time of beginnings, it still possesses very
  different meanings to the region’s various cultures. It
  began in the Khonsurian Empire, where it marked the
  arrival and ascension to power of the sphinxes. The
  nalvor still inhabiting the remains of the old Empire con-
  tinue to celebrate the holiday for this reason. However, in
  most of the other kingdoms of the Lostlands, the belief is
  held that the day marks the fall of the Empire and the
  beginning of the newer kingdoms. Also, in Rhaz al-
  Khali, it is thought that the day marks the “beginning of
  the end”; the Day of Apocalypse that this nation anxious-
  ly awaits is prophesied to begin during the alignment of
  the three stars. 
  Regardless of region perceptions, Thirdstar is usually
  celebrated with much feasting and revelry throughout the
  Lostlands. Additionally, in most of the kingdoms in this
  savage region (except for in Rhaz al-Khali), young men
  and women receive a small tattoo of three stars on their
  right wrist, marking the beginning of their journey into
  adulthood.
  Kingdoms, Tribal Lands,
  and City-States
  What follows is an index of the various kingdoms, prin-
  cipalities, tribes, and free cities of the Lostlands. The
  noted populations are only rough estimates; little facts
  regarding the Lostlands are known by the scholars of the
  North, and many of the “truths” about this savage region
  may in fact be decades, if not centuries, old. The number
  of sages in the world that possess copious amounts of
  accurate knowledge regarding the Lostlands can be
  counted on the fingers of one man’s hand.
  Compounding the difficulties of providing accurate
  information for the various “nations” of the Lostlands is
  the fact that few formal nations exist in this part of the
  world. Most of the borders between the various territories
  of the Lostlands are under dispute; only those borders
  clearly defined by natural, impenetrable boundaries serve
  to provide any sort of clarity. 
  Lostlanders generally live in the ruins of cities once built
  by the slaves of the Sphinx Empire. Those who move too
  far past the walls of these once-mighty cities risk the
  wrath of the evil bandits or monstrous horrors wandering
  throughout the region. Even the farmlands and herding
  areas of the Lostlands tend to be found protected behind
  the walls of the sprawling ancient cities. Any creature
  daring to live far beyond the protection of a city wall, or
  of a tribe or clan, is either powerful indeed or courting
  death.
  The majority of resources of these many tribes and king-
  doms are all old—like carrion, the people of the
  Lostlands are still picking away at the remains of their
  Sphinx masters and the Old Khonsurian Empire. The
  farmlands, while no longer required to sustain the popu-
  lations enjoyed by the Empire at the height of its power
  centuries ago, provide smaller and smaller crops with
  each passing year. No new mines have been discovered
  since the halcyon days of the Empire, and those that have
  not since run dry or collapsed have been all but picked
  clean. Although few in the Lostlands are aware of this
  grave situation, it is likely that only a few decades remain
  before the resources of the Lostlands run dry. Then, with-
  out a shadow of a doubt, famine and civil war shall run
  across this wild country like a plague. It is most likely
  that this inevitable plague shall infect the Northlands and
  Southlands as well …
  66
  
  Achaemia 
  The Grand Prince of Princes,
  Cambujia Calhi
  Population: 12,450 (rakshasa 55%, other 20%, human
  10%, drow 7%, half-elf 5%, genie 3%) 
  Resources: Silks, oils, ships
  Capital: The City of Achaemia
  T
  his bustling city-state is ruled by the enigmatic
  rakshasa, and zealously guarded by djinni and
  other genies. Located along the desolate coast of
  the Twisted Sea, the strange city still manages to attract a
  surprising array of visitors. Achaemia is commonly
  called “The Gateway of Áereth” by sailors, due to the
  fact that all sorts of demihuman, humanoid, and mon-
  strous creatures casually wander the streets of the city.
  Extradimensional portals are said to exist in the ancient
  sewers beneath the city, and while this rumor has never
  been confirmed by reliable sources, the djinni that fierce-
  ly guard the sewer gates seem to lend the idea credibili-
  ty. Many grand marketplaces can be found within the
  walls of Achaemia as well; while not nearly as impres-
  sive as those found in Gadjarria or Quaysarria, they are
  still remarkable in their own right. 
  For many years, Achaemia was an active participant in
  the affairs of the Lostlands. A human mercenary army
  known as the Company of the Bright Barrow served as
  the military might for the rakshasa city for many genera-
  tions, inspiring fear throughout the Lostlands at the mere
  mention of their name. At Achaemia’s whim, many of the
  small bandit kingdoms that traversed the Ghetrian Desert
  over the past several centuries were obliterated by the
  blades of the Bright Barrow. Even one of the mighty
  Vermilion Tribes proved to be no match for this merce-
  nary army—it was utterly destroyed in a grand, monu-
  mental battle. The Company of the Bright Barrow has not
  been seen in the Lostlands for many years, however,
  leading many enemies of the city to wonder if the merce-
  nary army has been disbanded by its rakshasa masters …
  or if the Company is simply doing battle on another plane
  of existence. 
  On rare occasion, the master rakshasa artisans of
  Achaemia build massive ships of sea called grandships,
  which have tremendous range and speed. Many mer-
  chants from the Northlands and Southlands purchase the
  grandships from the rakshasa for sailing conventional
  trade routes, but in recent years it has been noted that
  some have set sail to the east across the Twisted Sea …
  and none have returned. Although the disappearance of
  Denys Morcault and his fleet led most sailors throughout
  Áereth to believe that only the realms of the dead lie
  beyond the Twisted Sea, the increased number of grand-
  ships headking off in that directions has led some to
  whisper that perhaps something else, like treasure
  beyond imagination, can be found to the east—and what-
  ever that something may be, the rakshasa know its
  secrets.
  Djeser al-Maqqara 
  The Slave King, Lord Marko
  Hellmont
  Population: 252,960 (human 66%, humanoid 31%, other
  3%) 
  Resources: Slaves, beasts of burden 
  Capital: —
  Thriving upon the misery of others, the city of Djeser al-
  Maqqara is the largest and most infamous slave market in
  the world. The city was once one of the greatest in the
  Khonsurian Empire, known for its exquisite temples and
  palaces. The remnants of these once-proud buildings now
  serve as pens for slaves, filled to capacity and nearly
  beyond by the new, unscrupulous masters of the city.
  After the fall of the Khonsurian Empire, the city quickly
  67
  
  fell into ruin, and its location on the eastern coast of the
  Empyrean Ocean made it an ideal hideout for rogues,
  slavers, and pirates alike. However, it has only been in
  the last century or so that the city has risen to prominence
  as the world’s premier slave market. The reason for this
  was the arrival of Lord Darryn Hellmont. A former
  nobleman from Crieste, Hellmont was stripped of his title
  and exiled from his homelands because of his dealings in
  slavery—specifically, his selling of his peasants as slaves
  to foreign lands. However, if the crown of Crieste had
  sought to punish Hellmont, its aim was sadly misguided.
  By allowing him passage to Djeser al-Maqqara, the cor-
  rupt nobleman was able to restart a far more profitable
  slave trade than he ever had before, and with his contacts
  in Crieste, he was able to turn the city into the undeniable
  slave capital of the world. He was also able to establish
  unbreakable control over the city—his grandson, Marko,
  rules over Djeser al-Maqqara with the same ruthless
  authority that his grandfather once enjoyed. He and a
  group of six other powerful slave masters are known sim-
  ply as the Slavers’ Council. 
  The law in Djeser al-Maqqara is simple: “Pay the
  Slavers’ Council.” Any crime from petty theft to blatant
  murder is conceivably legal in the city, provided that the
  slave masters of the city give the action their approval
  and receive a tax upon that action. An individual who
  feels wronged by another may take his grievance to one
  of the slave masters of the ruling council; from there, vir-
  tually anything can happen. The slave master may take
  no action, or may levy a tax … either against the plaintiff
  or defendant. The tax may range from a single copper
  coin to the lives of one’s entire family. The taxes are
  enforced by the council’s own tax collection squad—a
  mix of half-ogre barbarians and skilled elven assassins.
  Despite having but one official law, Djeser al-Maqqara
  remains a fairly orderly and civilized city. 
  Although primarily sold to be used as laborers, slaves for
  virtually any purpose or vice can be found in the street
  markets of the desert city. Pleasure slaves, trained by
  some of the best courtesans and artists in the entire
  world, are available at the auction blocks to the highest
  bidder. Entire trained legions of slave soldiers are avail-
  able to rent or to buy—these range from common sol-
  diers to specialized warriors, such as archers or cavalry-
  men. These mercenary armies have been known to turn
  the tide in many a civil war between feuding noblemen.
  Also available for sale are trained, exotic beasts. This is
  a more recent development in Djeser al-Maqqara, one of
  Marko Hellmont’s design, and has proven in recent years
  to be extremely profitable. Trained beasts such as
  basilisks, chimeras, or even dragons can be found for the
  right price. Djeser al-Maqqara has become home to some
  of the most skilled animal trainers in the world, who are
  known to blend sorcery, psionics, and more conventional
  training methods to mold the minds of their charges into
  whatever an owner wishes. It is also said that these train-
  ers can do the same to humans, or elves, or other intelli-
  gent creatures.
  Another new venture of Marko Hellmont was the intro-
  duction of the gladiator pits. Although gladiatorial fight-
  ing is somewhat commonplace in other nations, the fights
  and spectacles offered by Djeser al-Maqqara are without
  a doubt the grandest the world has ever known. The
  Arena of Eternal Flame, built from crimson slabs of mar-
  ble, sits on the northern end of the city and seats nearly
  one hundred thousand bloodthirsty patrons a day, with
  nearly two hundred thousand spectators on festival days
  and for special events. While the majority of the fighting
  takes place between conventional gladiators—albeit the
  finest that the world has to offer—it is the more uncon-
  ventional battles that draw the most attention. Gladiators
  pit themselves against foul, dangerous monsters like the
  remorhaz; thrice yearly, battles of magic between wiz-
  ards and sorcerers take place, leading to grisly displays of
  magic within the Arena that are unrivaled. Of course, the
  gambling that occurs on all gladiatorial matches—super-
  vised by Hellmont and his slave masters, of course—
  ensures that the coffers of Djeser al-Maqqara remain full
  at all times.
  A unique alliance between Djeser al-Maqqara and the
  Barrier Isles exists, allowing both to remain independent
  and profitable. In earlier times, the two independent city-
  states were bitter rivals, each one trying to outdo the
  other and engaging in clandestine wars. However, in
  recent years, both the Barrier Isles and Djeser al-
  Maqqara came to the realization that they faced far too
  many enemies without also trying to destroy one another.
  Djeser al-Maqqara scaled back its black market and pira-
  cy activities, choosing instead to focus solely on the slave
  trade; meanwhile, the Barrier Isles renounced its claims
  on the slave trade, serving only to ferry the human cargo
  of Djeser al-Maqqara from one land to another. While not
  exactly allies, both Djeser al-Maqqara and the Barrier
  Isles look out for one another, providing each other assis-
  tance when profitable to do so; bounty hunters searching
  for criminals in either area inevitably find their efforts
  stymied to no end. Alliances and partnerships with
  thieves’guilds and assassins’guilds throughout the world
  make Djeser al-Maqqara a haven for rogues and crimi-
  nals of all kinds.
  68
  
  Gadjarria 
  Caliph of the Free Tribes,
  Hazaay Gho
  Population: 6,338 (halfling 91%, human 6%, other 3%) 
  Resources: Trade goods, secrets 
  Capital: Bahadur
  M
  ore commonly called the Kingdom of Gypsies
  or the Kingdom of Thieves, this nation is com-
  prised of loosely allied clans of halfling wan-
  derers. These tribes keep to the southernmost regions of
  the Lostlands, generally skirting the outer regions of Xyr
  Muthal and the Gloom Marshes of Tashgar, foraging for
  wild crops and animals in these regions. Despite its
  extreme isolation, this wandering band of halfling gyp-
  sies is still well known and well sought after by many
  travelers. This is partially due to its close contacts with
  the Bazaar of Quaysarria, and partly due to the goods that
  the halfling gypsies choose to sell—namely, forbidden
  knowledge.
  The united tribes of Gadjarria convene annually at the
  abandoned Khonsurian city of Bahadur, during the Day
  of the Fifth Prince. It is during this time of feasting that
  the various chieftains of each gypsy tribe meet and hold
  council, determining where the tribes will travel and
  what tasks need be done during the coming year. If nec-
  essary, a caliph to lead all the tribes is elected, but such
  an election has not been held for over fifty years. The
  Caliph Hazaay Gho has held this position during this
  time, and he shows no sign of relinquishing his position.
  Hazaay Gho is famous for a sharp tongue and a sharp
  dagger—and both have been known to strike without
  warning.
  Gadjarria is reputed to hold arcane secrets that can be
  found nowhere else. These secrets may come in the form
  of items—artifacts outlawed in a dozen nations, perhaps,
  or tomes thought only to exist in the infernal planes of
  torment—or they may come in the form of the spoken
  word, uttered by the various mystics of the Gadjarrian
  tribes. Though not spellcasters or practitioners of magic
  in the traditional sense, the Gadjarrian mystics have the
  ability to divine both past and future with uncanny preci-
  sion, and to cast powerful hexes on unsuspecting souls.
  These services are available with frightening ease among
  any of the Gadjarrian tribes, but always at a high price. 
  Despite such sinister trappings, however, the gypsies of
  Gadjarria are not evil. They merely believe that they act
  to provide what others desire, even though these desires
  are invariably evil and corrupt. In fact, it is Gadjarrian
  custom to deny a customer’s request three times, and
  always with the phrase “You do not want what you seek.”
  It is only after the fourth request is made that a price is
  named, and the task completed. 
  Legend has it that the gypsies of Gadjarria are cursed to
  wander the eastern regions of the Lostlands, and are
  doomed to do so until the end of days as penance for their
  dabbling in dark arts. Others believe that there is a more
  practical purpose to their wanderings—that an ancient
  Khonsurian treasure lies somewhere in this section of the
  Lostlands, and that somehow the city of Bahadur acts as a
  key to this treasure. No one knows why they choose to
  relentlessly wander through this dangerous territory, but in
  Gadjarria, perhaps the answer can be learned … for a price. 
  Bahadur: (Small town, pop. 2,890) Once a mighty mili-
  tary outpost for the Khonsurian Empire, this barren town
  is all but abandoned, occupied by a handful of grain mills
  and a few smithies, which support the basic needs of the
  wandering tribes. Most of the stone buildings of the old
  city have been torn down and used to reinforce the walls
  surrounding it. When the tribes convene during the sum-
  mer months, they instead choose to put up their pavilion
  tents in these clearings, rather than use the few remaining
  abandoned buildings.
  The only building of significance in Bahadur is a giant
  fortress, made of black marble walls and standing nearly
  five hundred feet tall. Even though no gypsy has set foot
  in the fortress for nearly a thousand years, its gates
  remain locked and fires still burn brightly inside of it.
  The old Khonsurian histories speak of the Black Fortress
  of Necherophet, where the Pharaoh Senakhet was mur-
  dered by his brother Novurath, who usurped his throne
  and took his crown. The ghost of the slain Pharaoh is said
  to endlessly walk the corridors of the Black Fortress in
  search of vengeance and blood. Though there is no proof
  69
  
  in the written histories, the Black Fortress of
  Necherophet and the abandoned fortress at Bahadur are
  thought to be one and the same.
  Gorhgijesk
  Lord of the World Below,
  Gyoratyllion Ghorwu, First of
  His Name
  Population: 901,000 (drow 59%, duergar 14%, derro
  10%, abollar 7%, aboleth 6%, other 4%) 
  Resources: Mineral ores, precious metals 
  Capital: Rythnaisym
  W
  hen the easternmost regions of the Vermilion
  Steppes were shattered by the falling of the
  Shadow Star, it created a smoking crater
  called the Devil’s Cauldron—a vast area miles wide and
  descending far into the depths of the earth. From the dark
  recesses of this eternally burning crater appeared a king-
  dom of vile depravity, one that immediately began to
  stretch its evil talons across the Lostlands. Whether the
  creatures lurking in the depths of the Cauldron were
  always there, or arrived with the Shadow Star, no one can
  say for sure. However, what it known for certain is their
  dark ambition. They clearly represent one of the most
  dangerous threats known to the entirety of the Lostlands. 
  Gorhgijesk is ruled by an uneasy alliance between the
  aboleth and the drow. The supreme ruler of the evil
  underground kingdom has always been the mighty
  Gyoratyllion Ghorwu, a vampire aboleth who supposed-
  ly has lived and ruled for well over two thousand years.
  However, providing guidance to Ghorwu is the Council
  of Three, which is comprised of the mightiest war lead-
  ers in the kingdom. Presently—and for the first time—
  the Council is comprised entirely of drow war leaders.
  Tensions between the aboleth and the drow have never
  been higher, and while Ghorwu’s iron grip on power has
  always seemed as certain as the rising sun, rumblings
  from within the Council indicate that perhaps the time of
  the drow in Gorhgijesk is at hand. 
  The servants and slaves of Gorhgijesk are the duergar
  and derro, who resent their aboleth masters with a pas-
  sion. However, the aboleth have been able to beautifully
  manipulate the two races of evil dwarves against each
  other for centuries, keeping them focused upon fighting
  one another instead of uniting against their masters. Both
  derro and duergar—when not engaged in their lethal clan
  feuds—work the extensive mines located deep beneath
  the Devil’s Cauldron. The duergar work the more com-
  mon ores—copper, iron, gold, and the like—while the
  derro work the far more dangerous one, namely the
  mines for mithril and shadowstone. The rare ore shadow-
  stone, while highly coveted for its magical properties, is
  said to cause insanity in those who remain in contact with
  it over time. Indeed, many believe that shadowstone is
  what originally caused the derro to go mad. The rare min-
  erals found beneath Gorhgijesk are also the reason that
  “good” kingdoms have not united to destroy this sinister
  nation—the truth of the matter is that while most of the
  world finds Gorhgijesk to be utterly abhorrent, the appeal
  of its valuable resources also makes it too valuable to
  destroy.
  The other servants of Gorhgijesk are the abollar, mon-
  strous hybrids of human and aboleth. Unlike the derro
  and duergar, the abollar serve their masters with fanatical
  loyalty, and would gladly die for their king and kingdom.
  The abollar comprise much of the military might of
  Gorhgijesk, and are known throughout the Lostlands for
  their military prowess. However, while rightfully feared,
  the abollar legions are known to achieve victory by sheer
  force and brutality rather than by any particular cunning
  or tactics. In recent years, much to the dismay of
  Gyoratyllion Ghorwu and his Council of Three, the
  armies of Gorhgijesk have been soundly defeated in sev-
  eral battles by the Vermilion Tribes. 
  The Devil’s Cauldron is the main point of entry to
  Gorhgijesk for most of the world. Winding roads—some
  no wider than four feet—descend down the sides of the
  still-smoldering crater in wide spirals, eventually reach-
  ing the main roads to the cities of Gorhgijesk at the
  crater’s bottom. Guides to these cities can typically be
  found making camp at the edge of the cauldron. Some are
  abollar emissaries who “officially” represent the under-
  ground kingdom, while others are rogue scouts from the
  Vermilion Tribes, cast out of their nation for unsavory
  reasons. The cities of Gorhgijesk can also be reached by
  underground rivers—fast skiffs are believed to move
  swiftly between Gorhgijesk and some of the other drow
  kingdoms in the World Below. 
  Gorhgijesk currently finds itself as a crossroads. While it
  has since time immemorial sought to conquer and domi-
  nate the rest of the world, it faces the dilemma of decid-
  ing what its next step toward that aim should be: Its
  desire to conquer parts of the surface world has become
  much more difficult with the rise of the Vermilion Tribes,
  while recent conflicts with the drow have equally jeop-
  ardized some of their below-ground ambitions. 
  Rythnaisym: (Metropolis, pop. 68,400) Also known as
  “The Devil’s Eye,” Rythnaisym is built over the remnants
  of the ancient meteor known as the Shadow Star. A twist-
  ing labyrinth of tunnels leads from the bottom of the
  Devil’s Cauldron to this mighty city. Many of these tun-
  70
  
  nels are filled with horrors such as colonies of green
  slime, or packs of otyugh—without an experienced
  guide, traversing these tunnels without incident is all but
  impossible. Rythnaisym itself is surrounded by a moat of
  molten metal. Drawbridges of enchanted black iron are
  lowered but thrice a day, limiting entry into the city. 
  Prominent throughout the streets of Rythnaisym are the
  many public pools of hot salt water. Many of the aboleth
  within the city spend much of their time here, conducting
  both business and pleasure from the comfort of these hot
  pools. The pools are said to have many magical and
  regenerative properties, thought to be the result of being
  built over the remains of an ancient dragon graveyard.
  Phumarik: (Small city, pop. 22,560) Home to the
  smithies of Gorhgijesk, the city is more commonly
  referred to as the “Unending Thunder” due to the inces-
  sant din of hammers relentlessly falling on anvils. Armor
  and swords for a small army can be made in a day in the
  smithies of Phumarik, if need be. Most of these skilled
  and proficient smiths are duergar, but the best of them are
  in fact a small clan of mercenary fire giants, renegades
  from the Northlands that made their way to the shadowy
  lands of Gorhgijesk. These giants are paid handsomely
  for their work by the Council of Three, and are known to
  hunt the tunnels surrounding Phumarik for sport, using
  trained manticores as hunting dogs. 
  Viomorgyn: (Small city, pop. 14,820) This city is home
  to many of the most infamous practitioners of the darkest
  arts of magic. Sealed behind thick stone walls, this under-
  ground enclave is perhaps the world’s largest university
  of magic—the Arcanum Infernal—and nearly all of its
  areas of study are forbidden throughout the rest of the
  known world. Although the majority of its most esteemed
  teachers are of drow origin, Viomorgyn is unusual
  amongst the cities of Gorhgijesk in that it is more open to
  outsiders; many of its teachers and students are of human
  origin, and have traveled thousands of dangerous miles to
  learn the teachings that are available at Viomorgyn. Such
  teachings come at a price, however: Visitors to the mag-
  ical underground city are not permitted to leave for the
  rest of their living days. Those few who manage to
  escape are hunted down like dogs by elite drow assassins. 
  Morena Nova
  The Grand and Majestic
  Emperor, Grimaud IV
  Population: 54,900 (human 95%, dwarf 3%, other 2%) 
  Resources: Trade goods 
  Capital: Dupleiux
  T
  he self-styled Kingdom of Morena Nova is some-
  thing of a pariah in the Lostlands. Formed by
  expatriates and dissidents exiled from a disgraced
  duchy of Crieste, Morena Nova struggles to maintain the
  “purity” of its cultural traditions and zealous religious
  beliefs from the influence of the surrounding Lostlands.
  Although this adherence to tradition and custom is noth-
  ing short of remarkable—traveling through Morena
  Nova is much akin to stepping through a portal in time,
  traveling to the early days of the Criestine Empire—the
  Lostlands have still exerted a subtle influence. Over the
  years, the kingdom has slowly transformed from the
  proverbial stranger in a strange land to an unwilling
  bridge between the Northlands and Southlands.
  The land that would eventually become Morena Nova
  was originally discovered eight hundred years ago by the
  Criestine Emperor Mattias II. He used this relatively des-
  olate jungle expanse as a staging ground for a holy cru-
  sade against Xa Deshret, which he saw as a nation of
  unclean heathens. Although this holy war was an unmiti-
  gated disaster, it did serve to establish the city of Dupleiux
  as a viable colony, capable of defending itself against the
  other nations of the Lostlands. When the Schism of
  Morena occurred some four hundred years later, the
  defeated Duke of Morena and a few loyal followers set
  sail for the Lostlands and the fledgling colony of New
  Morena, and began a new kingdom in exile. As Crieste
  had mostly lost interest in the colony by this time, the for-
  mation of “Morena Nova” met little resistance. The exiled
  nobles became the new leaders of this renegade nation,
  and the direct descendants of those exiles are now the
  present-day lords and ladies of the Morenan court.
  Although the first hundred years of Morena Nova’s exis-
  tence were difficult, the small kingdom of proud exiles
  fought hard to rise above the savage wastelands that had
  abruptly become their new home. Fortunately for the
  exiles that formed Morena Nova, a wild herb called mar-
  ishi-tao grows in great abundance throughout the valleys
  in the region. The herb, which possesses a number of
  magic healing properties, is difficult to grow properly,
  but the desperation and ingenuity of the Morenan settlers
  led to practical ways of cultivating it in mass quantities.
  Through this—and through reluctantly making trade
  71
  
  agreements with other nations of the Lostlands, such as
  Taijin and Quaysarria—Morena Nova was able to grow
  into a small but formidable power in the Lostlands. Even
  at the present time, rich Morenan nobles continue to
  grow this exotic herb, which is still the kingdom’s main
  source of revenue. The original small, struggling farms
  have gradually become massive plantations the size of
  small cities, and are owned and supervised by the new
  Morenan gentry.
  The society of Morena Nova is modeled after that of its
  Criestine ancestors. The courts, comprised of the royal
  family and several rich noblemen and aristocrats, hold
  sway over the rest of the city. Lesser merchants and arti-
  sans have some say in the goings-on of their city, while
  most of the commonfolk are merely the Emperor’s ser-
  vants, expected to obey his every whim. The harshness of
  the Lostlands has also injected this societal structure with
  a dose of brutal reality: Facing far greater dangers and
  having fewer numbers than their brethren in the
  Northlands, the crown of Morena Nova generally
  accedes to the demands of its people rather than face the
  threat of revolution. This reality has always been held in
  check by the pragmatism of its emperors; in recent years,
  though, concern has grown as the Emperor Grimaud IV’s
  son, the Dauphin Prince and future Grimaud V, has
  shown the signs of megalomania that could one day be
  the kingdom’s doom.
  Presently, Morena Nova is experiencing a renaissance of
  sorts, which has filled the kingdom with both anticipation
  and fear. For many years, Morena Nova maintained a
  policy of isolationism. They viewed themselves as far too
  cultured and civilized to mix with the savage creatures of
  the Lostlands. However, increased trade between the
  dwarven Kingdom of Taijin and the rest of the known
  world has indirectly created a financial boon for Morena
  Nova, filling the coffers of the royal treasury with moun-
  tains of gold coins. The current political unrest in Crieste
  has also renewed some long-forgotten ties between
  Morena Nova and its former homeland. This has caused
  much excitement in the streets of the kingdom about the
  possibilities of a reunion with Crieste, or at least a friend-
  ly alliance. On the other hand, there is also a growing
  patriotic movement within Morena Nova that is proud of
  the independence it has achieved, and wants nothing to
  do with the mother empire that spurned it so long ago.
  Today, the future of the once-exiled kingdom is very
  much in question.
  Dupleiux: (Large city, pop. 33,699) With humble begin-
  nings as a crude fortress manned by a handful of scared
  colonial soldiers, the city of Dupleiux has transformed
  over the centuries into an impressive city. Sitting on the
  shores of the Khiazan River, Dupleiux is the main point
  of entry for many merchants, sailors, and adventurers
  traveling to the Lostlands. Most of the buildings are built
  from red clay, save the Royal Palace itself, which was
  painstakingly built from expensive, imported granite and
  black marble. The markets of Dupleiux are located at the
  corners of the city, with each given a specific day during
  the week to operate. It is not uncommon to see merchants
  scurrying from one corner of the city to another during
  the predawn hours, attempting to set up their wares in
  times for the opening of the new corner market.
  Unknown to most citizens, the sewers of Dupleiux con-
  tain several golden idols of hideous monsters. The few
  sages who are aware of their existence say that their pres-
  ence predates the Age of Dragons, and that they may sig-
  nify the seal of a grand mystical lock—possibly some-
  thing that could be trapping an infernal or even god-like
  being of immense power.
  Bourdonnais: (Small city, pop. 10,895) This open city
  sprawls for miles across the plains of Morena Nova, with
  the oppressive sun beating down heavily upon the many
  fields of marishi-tao scattered throughout this region.
  Over twenty massive plantations grow the wild herb in
  this region; all the fields are tended by Morenan crimi-
  nals and by slaves purchased from Djeser al-Maqqara.
  Due to the relentless heat and the slightly toxic nature of
  raw marishi-tao, slaves never last long in the fields of
  Bourdonnais—a field worker able to last more than two
  years is a rarity indeed.
  Despite being in one of the most hostile regions of the
  world and having no walls to protect it, Bourdonnais is
  still considered to be one of the most secure cities in the
  Lostlands. This is because the plantations are closely
  guarded by an ancient golden dragon, one by the name of
  Foucauldé, who may have come over from Crieste with
  its original settlers. In exchange for tribute from the
  crown of Morena Nova, the proud dragon protects the
  plantations, keeping them safe from raiders.
  72
  
  Quaysarria 
  Emir of Shadhalia, Sha Abbas
  Population: 14,875 (human 80%, half-elf 8%, halfling
  7% other 5%) 
  Resources: Trade goods 
  Capital: Shadhalia
  B
  etter known as the Bazaar of Quaysarria, this
  traveling nation is perhaps the best-known king-
  dom of the Lostlands. While this is primarily due
  to the fact that the merchant kingdom is the least danger-
  ous and most welcoming of all the nations of the
  Lostlands, it also has to do with its location. Located in
  the “no-man’s land” between the Ghetrian Desert and the
  Vermilion Steppes, the ever-changing borders of
  Quaysarria fall squarely between the Northlands and the
  Lostlands. As such, it is fairly accessible to travelers,
  unlike the rest of the region. Additionally, this accessibil-
  ity makes the nation one of the few reliable sources of
  information about the Lostlands that is available to the
  remainder of the world. 
  The kingdom is only a nation in the loosest sense of the
  word. Mainly, Quaysarria consists of a few of the north-
  ernmost cities of the Old Khonsurian Empire, now ruled
  by humans and united by a single but powerful thread.
  That thread is the famous traveling Bazaar of Quaysarria,
  which travels throughout the steppes and the deserts of
  the region. The cities tend to act as resting points for the
  bazaar, or places for the bazaar to seek refuge should it
  find itself under attack.
  Quaysarria is ruled by the Emir Sha Abbas, who travels
  with the bazaar, and rarely visits the capital of Shadhalia.
  Affable and never without a smile, the Emir is an incred-
  ibly successful merchant with nerves of steel and an iron
  will—few other mortals would be capable of negotiating
  trade terms with the likes of Gorhgijesk and Djeser al-
  Maqqara, and fewer could negotiate deals that proved
  profitable. Part of the deals negotiated with all of these
  various places in the Lostlands and the Northlands are
  non-aggression treaties, making the Bazaar a veritable
  traveling safe haven (apart from the occasional attack by
  a rogue Vermilion Tribe). It is not uncommon for kings
  and queens from faraway warring nations to make their
  peace under a pavilion tent in the traveling Bazaar of
  Quaysarria.
  The Bazaar is a place where nearly anything in the
  known world can be bought or sold. The few exceptions
  to this are slaves and black magic. This is not because of
  any sense of morality, though—it is more the result of
  negotiated deals with Djeser al-Maqqara and with the
  halflings of Gadjarria, who respectively own the markets
  on such items. Much of the Bazaar’s success is due to the
  wide variety of merchants who travel thousands upon
  thousands of miles to reach it, particularly during the
  Seven Days of Gold. However, the Emir Sha Abbas often
  sends his own merchants through the world to look for
  new goods to buy or sell. This inadvertently gives the
  Bazaar yet another valuable commodity: information. A
  local proverb in Quaysarria says, “If someone in the
  world whispers a secret, someone in Quaysarria knows
  what it is.”
  Shadhalia: (Large town, pop. 7,220) A veritable ghost
  town for much of the year, this desert port city comes to
  life at the start of spring, when a festival known as the
  Seven Days of Gold takes place. During this time, mer-
  chants and ships from around the world come to
  Shadhalia, bringing all their goods with them. The seven-
  day festival is perhaps the largest market in the world,
  allowing goods from every corner to be freely bought and
  sold. Anyone in the world may participate in this market
  festival; however, all merchants must pay a festival tax in
  order to enter the city, making the Bazaar handsomely
  rich for seven days. Besides its share of merchants, the
  festival also attracts plenty of rogues and pirates, who
  lurk outside the city … and who often sell the ill-gotten
  goods stolen from these merchants back to the Emir for a
  finder’s fee. 
  Naafi al-Yrka: (Small town, pop. 2,390) Like Shadhalia,
  the outpost of Naafi al-Yrka remains deserted throughout
  most of the year. The town essentially acts as the ware-
  house for the Bazaar of Quaysarria, and is only visited by
  the traveling city when its supplies run low. Despite the
  vast amount of goods and treasures contained within this
  city, it remains isolated, and is rarely attacked by bandits
  or thieves. This is because Naafi al-Yrka has two promi-
  nent, powerful guardians: massive copper dragons,
  known only as Bone and Battle. According to local leg-
  end, the dragons guarded the city long before the Bazaar
  began to meander through the Lostlands, and will contin-
  ue to do so long after the Age of Man has ended. More
  pragmatic souls believe that the Emir struck a deal with
  the two mercenary dragons to guard his city—but what
  the actual terms of such a deal might be, no one knows
  for sure.
  73
  
  Rhaz al-Khali, City of 
  Overlord of the Undying City,
  the Immortal Shahriyel Jhek
  Population: 96,253 (humans 35%, orcs 20%, half-orcs
  16%, half-fiends 15%, monstrous humanoids 9%, dwarves
  4%, elves 1%)
  Resources: Slaves, black market trade 
  Capital: — 
  R
  umors about the fabled lost city of Rhaz al-Khali are
  commonly found throughout the rest of the world.
  Although it seems that no two are alike, they all
  describe the city as a haven for the lost and the damned, a
  place for those with no future to find themselves and be born
  anew. Although the journey is said to be arduous and the city
  quite dangerous, redemption and hope can be found behind
  the metal walls of Rhaz al-Khali, should one be desperate
  enough to seek it.
  Nothing could be further from the truth.
  True, the city is vile and dangerous. But hope cannot be
  found in this desolate place. Rhaz al-Khali is ruled by the
  mad lich lord Shahriyel Jhek, who fervently believes that the
  end of the world is imminent … and that the end shall begin
  at the gates of Rhaz al-Khali. The only things to be found in
  the ruins of this once-proud city are fear, emptiness, and
  despair.
  Once one of the most powerful cities of the old Khonsurian
  Empire, Rhaz al-Khali began its fall long before the rest of
  the Empire collapsed. The city was known as a conclave for
  some of the greatest wizards in recorded history. However,
  during some explorations into the darker aspects of magic, a
  portal to a hellish dimension opened up in the heart of the
  city, instantly transforming Rhaz al-Khali into a vile breed-
  ing ground for demonic creatures. The city was quickly
  abandoned, and chaos reigned supreme in its ruins, with
  fiends and the undead transforming the streets into a never-
  ending bloodbath. 
  Order was restored, however, with the arrival of Shahriyel
  Jhek some hundred-odd years ago. A fearsome lich with for-
  midable power, Jhek instantly assumed control of the chaot-
  ic ruins, slaying all those who dared to challenge his power,
  and forcing the remaining fiends and half-fiends in the city
  to obey his every command. 
  Since Jhek’s arrival, the lich has bent the will of every crea-
  ture in Rhaz al-Khali to serve his obsession: an obscure,
  ancient prophecy called the Riddle of Darkest Qartepre.
  This prophecy speaks of the end of the world, and of the
  transformation of mortal existence into one of eternal tor-
  ment. Because the few known travelers ever to return from
  Rhaz al-Khali during Shahriyel Jhek’s reign have all gone
  mad, no one knows for certain what evil lurks beyond the
  city’s iron walls. However, rumor has it that over a thousand
  souls a day are sacrificed to dark, ancient gods by the hand
  of Jhek himself, and the constant flow of slaves into the city
  from Djeser al-Maqqara lends some credibility to this whis-
  pered claim.
  With a distinct absence of merchant caravans coming from
  Rhaz al-Khali (apart from the slavers of Djeser al-Maqqara),
  it is unclear how the city manages to exist, let alone thrive.
  Occasionally, an artifact from Rhaz al-Khali finds its way to
  black markets around the world, but apart from these items,
  nothing is known to ever leave the wicked place. Riders
  from the Vermilion Tribes have reported seeing strange air-
  ships sailing toward the city on moonless nights, leaving
  some sages to believe that the city in fact acts on behalf of a
  far greater power. Who or what that power may be, no one
  can say with authority. 
  The Kingdom of Taijin
  His Majesty and Overlord of
  the Mountain Peaks, King
  Ogamito X
  Population: 106,816 (dwarves 80%, gnomes 10%, humans
  6%, other 4%)
  Resources: Iron, copper, wrought metals, precious gem-
  stones 
  Capital: Raiju Khor
  A
  lthough little more than a few loosely connected
  dwarven cities, the Kingdom of Taijin has been a
  growing power in the Lostlands over the past few
  decades. Taijin sits in the Herrenia Mountains, just north of
  Morena Nova, which until recent years was its only signifi-
  cant trading partner. All of the kingdom’s cities lie far
  beneath the mountains in the World Below, surrounded by
  endless caverns and rich mines. The dwarves of Taijin suc-
  cessfully exterminated all of the kobolds, goblins, and other
  evil humanoids that once laired in the mountains in a mas-
  sive, genocidal war some centuries ago called the Seppuku
  Cleansing. As a result of this, Taijin and the mountains sur-
  rounding the kingdom are perhaps the safest region in all of
  the Lostlands—a fact now being realized by enterprising
  merchants all over Áerth. 
  Taijin is currently ruled by King Ogamito X, who has led the
  kingdom to its newfound prosperity. There are thirteen main
  Merchant Houses that govern Taijin on a day-to-day basis,
  but the King of Taijin holds ultimate authority over the
  nation. For the past eight hundred years, the largest of the
  Merchant Houses—the Bakar Deyoshi—held sway over the
  secluded underground nation, keeping it isolated from the
  rest of the world and limiting its trade opportunities to just
  the kingdom of Morena Nova. King Ogamito, however, is
  74
  
  from the younger upstart Merchant House of the Bakar
  Kigahara, and surprised many traditionalists in the Houses
  by daring to extend Taijin’s reach. Over the past forty years,
  King Ogamito has made key alliances with Gadjerria,
  Quaysarria, the Vermilion Tribes, and Xa Deshret, greatly
  expanding the role of the dwarves in the Lostlands. 
  Ogamito also in recent years has begun to invite royalty and
  rich merchants from the Northlands and Southlands to be his
  royal guests in the palaces of Mount Raiju. Although invita-
  tions were politely declined at first, more and more impor-
  tant visitors from the far-flung corners of Áereth have made
  their way to the Herrenia Mountains, and have been suitably
  impressed by the grand kingdom lying beneath its peaks.
  While this has led to a surge of economic and political
  power for Ogamito and his kingdom, this influx of foreign-
  ers into Taijin has caused unrest amongst some of the rival
  Merchant Houses. Already, crime and violence have escalat-
  ed to levels not known since the Seppuku Cleansing.
  Additionally, the influx of foreigners has led to sightings of
  goblins and trolls in the Herrenian Mountains, leading some
  to believe that retribution for the Seppuku Cleansing may
  not be far off.
  Taijin is only reachable by a single path—an old imperial
  road leading from Morena Nova. This broken road winds
  slowly from Bourdonnais up to the dwarven city of Cyaxar,
  which acts as the primary gateway to the kingdom. The
  upper reaches of the road are quite treacherous, and either a
  ranger or a dwarven guide from Taijin is necessary to tra-
  verse the icy, serpentine pathway. Despite the difficulties in
  reaching this dwarven kingdom, Taijin’s peaceful nature and
  even-handed temperament make it the most sought-after
  trade partner in the Lostlands. Taijin’s dealings with the
  traveling bazaars of Quaysarria and Gadjarria provide the
  kingdom with a wealth of trade goods available for sale.
  Also, the available mines and skilled artisans within Taijin
  itself make the kingdom a formidable weapons supplier,
  capable of outfitting a small army in short notice. Although
  all these items are available—some in copious amounts—
  from other places in the Lostlands, the dwarven kingdom is
  a relative safe haven compared to the rest of the savage
  lands. 
  The underground roads between the cities of Taijin can be a
  deathtrap for new visitors to the dwarven kingdom. Huge
  carts pulled by trained bulettes sprint madly through the
  labyrinthine corridors that connect the cities, and messen-
  gers donning boots of speed hurtle relentlessly from mer-
  chant house to merchant house, knocking over unwary trav-
  elers as they make their way through the maze of passage-
  ways. Goods and information move quite quickly between
  the cities of Taijin.
  While the dwarves of Taijin are physically similar to their
  cousins in the Northlands and the Southlands, the similari-
  ties end there. The dwarves of Taijin have a fondness for
  fine clothing and are notoriously well groomed, keeping
  their beards cropped closely at all times. They love art and
  literature. They also enjoy speeches and debate, and dwar-
  ven orators are held in high esteem in Taijin. They deplore
  physical combat and hate violence; however, they remain
  formidable fighters and are still capable of attacking their
  foes with great ferocity and cunning.
  Raiju Khor: (Large city, pop. 44,112) The city of Raiju
  Khor is built in the heart of a volcano, silenced ages ago by
  the sorcery of powerful dwarven magicians. The magic that
  keeps the fiery magma at bay pulses inside thirteen magic
  seals—one located in the heart of each Merchant House.
  Should the seals ever be broken, the volcano might surge
  back to life in a fiery inferno. Fortunately, the mightiest war-
  rior from each Merchant House stands watch over each seal
  day and night, ever vigilant to protect both seal and city.
  The main buildings in the underground city are all mighty
  natural towers, carved with great care out of the stalactites
  and stalagmites that have formed over the millennia. Each of
  these towers is decorated with certain gemstones, to indicate
  loyalties to certain Merchant Houses. A tower loyal to the
  ruling Merchant House of Bakar Kigahara, for example,
  would be decorated with diamonds and gold. The only
  exception to this is the Palace of Raiju Khor, which is deco-
  rated with the bones of the kingdom’s fallen foes. The natu-
  ral rock walls of the palace are no longer visible, as the
  bleached white bones of dragons, giants, goblins, trolls, and
  countless other evil monstrosities line the roads that lead to
  its gates and completely blanket the palace itself.
  Amytis: (Small city, pop. 20,777) Amytis is a city held more
  in esteem for its proximity to deep mines rather than for its
  heritage. Some centuries ago, Amytis was known as Jarlok,
  the Goblin City, but the original goblin denizens were wiped
  away during the Seppuku Cleansing. Although the dwarven
  conquerors of Amytis gave their conquest a new name and
  purged all traces of its original inhabitants, it is said that the
  foul stench of goblin blood still fills the air, and goblin
  ghosts continue to haunt the city. The dwarves of Taijin care
  little for the city itself; however, pragmatists that they are,
  they still care deeply for the vast silver and copper mines
  that run deep beneath it. Most of Amytis is a transient pop-
  ulation, seeking to make quick money from the mines, then
  leaving the tainted city as fast as possible.
  Cyaxar: (Small city, pop. 18,954) Cyaxar is split in two by
  a small but powerful underground river, which leads direct-
  ly into the Empyrean Ocean. Although infrequently used by
  merchants, the river acts as a passageway for merfolk,
  aquatic elves, and a small number of other intelligent crea-
  tures that live in the depths beneath the sea, who bring their
  underwater bounty from the ocean floor to trade with the
  dwarves. Many extraordinary treasures from beneath the sea
  can be found in the markets of Cyaxar.
  75
  
  Tharnaka
  The Exalted of the Isles,
  King Cacambo
  Population: ??? (white apes 90%, humans 6%, other 4%)
  Resources: Foodstuffs, perfumes, jewelry, spices
  Capital: Jomoa
  L
  ittle is known of the volcanic Isles of Tharnaka.
  Located near the Shattered Straits off of the coast of
  Xa Deshret, the Isles are surrounded by a maze of
  harsh barrier reefs, making them extremely difficult to
  reach.
  It is believed that the Isles are predominantly inhabited—
  and ruled—by large, intelligent apes, ones standing nearly
  ten feet tall and covered in white fur. The reason this is con-
  jecture instead of fact is because few living souls have ever
  seen these apes, and those who have done so have either
  been sworn to secrecy, or been somehow affected by sorcery
  to forget what they have seen. 
  Traveling to the Isles of Tharnaka is known to be a fool’s
  errand; not only are the best and bravest sea captains in the
  world required to navigate through the Shattered Straits,
  those who arrive at the Isles seem to vanish like ghosts,
  never to return to their homelands. No, the only known trav-
  elers to Tharnaka are merchants and sea captains, who
  receive handwritten, cordial invitations from the king. These
  invitations are delived by blind human eunuchs, who dress
  in black from head to toe and are the only known emissaries
  of the Isles. 
  What is actually on the Isles, no one can say with any
  authority. Rumor has it that the blind eunuchs also act as
  escorts to their invited guests once they reach the mysterious
  islands, limiting what can and cannot been seen, and where
  they can travel in the cities. However, what comes from the
  Isles is certainly known, and is certainly remarkable.
  Colorful silks, exotic perfumes, intricate trinkets and the
  like flow forth from Tharnaka like water, making the invita-
  tions to the Isles quite coveted by powerful merchants.
  Many rich nobles regard imports from Tharnaka as a mark
  of sophistication, making the trade goods highly desired …
  and very expensive. 
  The largest of the Isles is believed to be uninhabited. That is
  because it is also a massive volcano, one that erupts with
  fearsome power every few years. The force of these erup-
  tions can be felt all the way in Xa Deshret. Caves beneath
  the volcano are said to lead to the World Below and a rene-
  gade drow kingdom—but like the rest of the Isles, the truth
  behind such stories is shrouded in mystery.
  Jomoa: (Large city, pop. ???) The few legends known of the
  capital of Jomoa indicate that it is a city that sits next to a
  small, dormant volcano. The stone road that leads from its
  seaside docks to the city gates is lined with thousands upon
  thousands of human bones—supposedly, the remains of
  unwanted intruders who sought entrance to the city. 
  In the center of Jomoa is a silver throne, upon which the
  mighty King of Tharnaka sits when matters of state must be
  attended. The throne, however, is said to be alive—whenev-
  er a King of Tharnaka dies, his soul enters the throne and
  becomes one with the artifact, joining the souls of the hun-
  dreds of kings who passed on before him. The throne of
  Tharnaka acts as an advisor to the living kings of the land,
  and is said to be one of the wisest repositories of knowledge
  in the Known Realms.
  Huatalo: (Large city, pop. ????) The city of Huatalo pro-
  duces most of the wondrous foods, grains, and spices that
  come from Tharnaka. However, the city sits atop one of the
  dormant volcanoes of the Isles, making the origin of all of
  these bountiful goods a curious riddle. One of the few clues
  to this riddle are three golden archways that lie somewhere
  in a maze of tunnels beneath the city. These archways—
  referred to as the “Tomorrow Portals” by a few of the
  ancient texts about Tharnaka—are said to lead to other
  places. Perhaps they lead to the true source of Tharnaka’s
  bountiful resources.
  Huatalo is also home to the legendary White Oracle—a
  blind but powerful white ape thought to be well over a thou-
  sand years old. Although the Oracle rarely speaks, and usu-
  ally remains far from public sight inside a building known
  as the Stone Citadel, he reputedly is able to discern the true
  meaning of any prophecy. Should one speak the words of a
  prophet to the White Oracle, the ancient ape instantly is able
  to reply with the true meaning of those words. Because of
  this, the apes of Tharnaka keep the Oracle well hidden, even
  more so than their usual treasures … but it is said that for the
  right price, one can obtain an audience with the Oracle. 
  Cunegonde: (Large city, pop. ???) Perhaps the most myste-
  rious of the cities on the Tharnaka Isles, Cunegonde is said
  to be the birthplace of a long-forgotten dragon god. The leg-
  ends of Cunegonde say that it is a city that cannot be trav-
  eled to by any road, and that its walls are made of sorcery.
  What this exactly means is not known, but one truth that is
  certain about this legendary city is that it contains gold
  beyond imagination. On rare occasions, gold coins the size
  of a human fist and stamped with the visage of the crown
  ape make their way to the outside world—these coins are
  Tharnakan currency, and supposedly flow from the coffers
  of Cunegonde like water from the mightiest waterfall.
  Whether part of a vast, unending mine or the spoils of the
  dragon god’s treasure horde, no one can say. However, it is
  undisputed that Cunegonde is home to treasure beyond
  imagination, and its location is Tharnaka’s most tightly
  guarded of its many secrets.
  76
  
  The Vermilion Tribes
  Master of the Dragonfire,
  Malkhaine Svyato
  Population: 384,900 (wild elves 77%, half-elves 10%,
  humans 6%, gnomes 4%, halflings 3%)
  Resources: Timber, foodstuffs, trade goods 
  Capital: Goryati
  T
  he Vermilion Tribes are a loose confederation of
  nomadic warrior elves that claim the harsh Vermilion
  Steppes as their homeland. For the past several cen-
  turies, there have been anywhere from three to eight tribes,
  each ruled by a chieftain or khaine. The most powerful of
  the khaines, known as the malkhaine, is chosen in a blood
  duel between the khaines of all the Tribes. A new malkhaine
  is chosen whenever the previous one dies. Fighting and bat-
  tles between the tribes is commonplace; however, it is the
  malkhaine who prevents these battles from turning into full-
  blown tribal wars, and leads the united Vermilion Tribes to
  greater glory against their other enemies in the Lostlands. 
  The Tribes are comprised predominantly of wild elves, born
  to hunt and to fight. There is no distinction in tribal society
  between males and females, and both have equal rank. Nine
  out of ten elves that are born in the Tribes become part of the
  fighting hordes. Tribal warriors are legendary masters of the
  longbow, and are also masters of riding a creature known as
  the shadroquus, a strange hybrid of horse and blue dragon.
  Some of the khaines are known to ride on the backs of red
  dragons as well. 
  All warriors hold themselves to a strict code of honor,
  though this unfortunately means little to their enemies.
  Respect and honor is held only for other tribesmen, and for
  the battles between the tribes. This combination makes the
  hordes of the Vermilion Tribes one of the most feared fight-
  ing forces in the entire world—disciplined, fearless, and
  able to strike with deadly force at lightning speed. Since the
  Tribes have very little resources to call their own, it is up to
  these warriors to raid the surrounding regions of the
  Lostlands for fortune and glory, and to demand tribute from
  their fallen enemies.
  The remainder of the Tribes consists of the farmers, the
  tradesmen, and others who maintain the home cities of the
  tribes. These individuals tend to be those who are too old or
  too frail for battle. Also, those not of pure elven blood—
  mostly humans desiring to seek fellowship with the
  Tribes—serve and live in the Cities as well. These tribesmen
  are the few who actually live in the cities on a permanent
  basis. For the most part, the warrior hordes roam the
  Vermilion Steppes and the surrounding regions of the
  Lostlands, and only return to the home cities of their tribes
  for festivals or after long military campaigns. 
  At the present time, Malkhaine Svyato is the youngest and
  possibly the strongest malkhaine to rule over all the
  Vermilion Tribes in nearly five hundred years. He also pos-
  sesses a perspective that most of his fellow Tribesmen do
  not—his father was a merchant, and traveled to the faraway
  kingdom of Crieste. As such, Syvato is aware of the world
  beyond the Vermilion Steppes, and believes that it is his des-
  tiny to spread the influence of the Tribes beyond their tradi-
  tional homeland. 
  Goryati: (Large city, pop. 15,395) Built by the shores of the
  Ctesiphal River, this northernmost permanent city of the
  Vermilion Tribes is renowned for its blood-red walls and the
  three silver spires that rise from its center. Goryati is home
  to the Ashika Tribe, which is the birthplace of Malkhaine
  Svyato. Because of this, the Ashika currently enjoy the most
  prestige and honor amongst all the Vermilion Tribes. 
  Goryati is the only city amongst the Vermilion Tribes that
  possesses both ships and sailors. Few sailors from the
  Northlands or Southlands dare to travel too far up the
  Ctesiphal River, despite the possible trade advantages—the
  reaver ships of the Ashika are feared more than most pirates.
  These reavers frequently travel down along the coast of the
  Empyrean Ocean in search of prey; the Tharnaka Isles are a
  constant target of their ravenous nature. Members of the
  Ashika Tribe are trained from an early age to be equally
  adept in combat on land and at sea; should the need arise,
  they are comfortable serving whenever they are needed. 
  Tanghali: (Large town, pop. 9,438) This walled city sits
  atop a mighty cliff that overlooks the western expanses of
  the Vermilion Steppes. Home to the Taira Tribe, Tanghali is
  the oldest of the home cities of the Vermilion Tribes. It is
  thought to be built over the ruins of a Khonsurian palace, but
  no trace of this ruin has ever been found by those who have
  explored the catacombs of the city. The walls of Tanghali
  bear the scars of many pteral attacks; its proximity to the
  Blood Hives of Sahaptia makes the city the first line of
  defense against the swarms of frenzied wasp-men. 
  Tanghali is ruled by the Khaine Genmei, daughter of the
  previous Malkhaine. Although unusual in that she is far
  more skilled with a spear instead of a bow (and rides a blue
  77
  
  dragon into battle instead of a red), her prowess as a leader
  and a warrior is renowned throughout the Vermilion Tribes.
  Within the Tribes, many believe that she would be a far bet-
  ter Malkhaine than Svyato, as Genmei is considered more
  traditional and loyal to the old ways of life. It is thought that
  a blood duel between Genmei and Syvato is inevitable;
  however, for the time being, she remains steadfastly loyal to
  her leader.
  Qazan: (Large town, pop. 7,844) Partially hidden by a small
  forest near the center of the Steppes, Qazan is a far less
  imposing city than its neighbors, with walls of crude rock
  and mud instead of marble and gold. However, the city,
  which is also home to the Huligai Tribe, is perhaps the most
  important to the Vermilion Tribes, both for the surrounding
  forests that provide timber for their ships (and the resulting
  export) and for the farmlands near the city. Most of the arti-
  sans of the Vermilion Tribes make residence in Qazan.
  Although the proud Vermilion warriors are loathe to admit
  it, the commerce created by Qazan and its labor allows the
  traditions of the Tribes to exist. 
  Unusual in that it accepts warriors not of wild elf blood into
  its ranks, the Huligai Tribe has become even more unusual
  in recent years with the ascension of a human Khaine—Sir
  Gyles Durran, formerly a knight in service to the crown of
  Crieste. The reasons for his exile are unknown, but he has
  earned the undying loyalty of his new tribesmen. He is con-
  sidered a brilliant and ruthless tactician, as well as Syvato’s
  closest advisor.
  Jhavitri: (Large town, pop. 5,361) Resting on the border
  between the Ghetrian Desert and the Vermilion Steppes,
  Jhavitri is a harsh and grim place. Part of the city is under-
  ground, buried beneath the dusty hills to shield it from sand-
  storms and the constant, oppressive heat. Jhavitri is the main
  area where the Vermilion Tribes breed and raise their
  shadroquus mounts. It is also rumored that they breed drag-
  ons here as well. 
  The Jhokyu Tribe makes their ancestral home in Jhavitri.
  They are lead by Khaine Morgyat, a venerable and fierce
  warrior who has ruled over his tribe for nearly a thousand
  years with an iron hand. Some say that he is in fact even
  older than this, and was once a servant to Pharitis IV, one of
  the last Sphinx Emperors. Despite his advanced age, Khaine
  Morgyat is still said to be one of the best warriors in the
  Vermilion Tribes, and is considered to be one of the best
  teachers of the arts of fighting that has ever lived. 
  Members of the Jhokyu Tribe tend to have darker skin than
  their brothers and sisters in the other Vermilion Tribes.
  Because they make most of their raiding forays into the
  desert, they also tend to be nocturnal, and are excellent
  night-fighters. Additionally, most of the skilled assassins in
  the Vermilion Tribes begin their training among the warriors
  of the Jhokyu.
  Vivekanika
  Ruler unknown
  Population: 1,000 (golems 99%, unknown 1%) 
  Resources: Metal ore 
  Capital: —
  I
  t is quite possible that not a single living soul resides
  inside this grand, cryptic city. Although temples, palaces,
  and many other majestic buildings can be found within
  the walls of Vivekanika, they are all uninhabited, and have
  apparently been this way for thousands of years. That is not
  to say, however, that this large walled city is abandoned.
  Methodically plodding through the streets of Vivekanika are
  hundreds of golems, each laboring at responsibilities
  assigned to them long, long ago. While there are no signs of
  their masters, the golems of Vivekanika still toil relentlessly,
  showing no indication that their tasks will ever end … or, for
  that matter, what those tasks might be. There are no known
  pacts or treaties between Vivekanika and any other nation on
  Áereth; anyone who has allied themselves with the golem
  city-state has certainly done so in a clandestine manner. 
  Vivekanika is an isolated city, located near the southernmost
  point of the Lostlands—a small peninsula called the
  Chimera’s Eye. Two dormant volcanoes flank the city, effec-
  tively shielding it from most raiders and unwanted visitors.
  Twin stone roads lead from the city and wind up past the
  volcanoes to the blazing Sands of Shanbilai. It is believed
  that these roads once led to ancient cities; however, all they
  lead to now is an arid wasteland. If any cities once existed
  where these twin roads now abruptly end, their ruins are
  buried far beneath the desert sands. 
  Still, three times a year, a cadre of iron golems drag massive
  amounts of finished metals—iron and steel plates, refined
  adamantine ore, and the like—out along these roads, and
  inexplicably leave them out among the blowing sands when
  the roads end. For many, many years, intrepid merchants
  simply waited for the golems to make their regular trek out
  into the middle of the Sands of Shanbilai, and promptly took
  the abandoned metals to marketplaces and bazaars all over
  the world. However, with the recent influx of demonic
  fiends into the wastelands of the Sands, the metals usually
  remain abandoned, with the harsh desert conditions either
  reducing the materials to blemished, rusted sheets of junk,
  or burying them far below anonymous dunes. For a daring
  adventurer, though, the opportunity still exists to grab
  unwanted treasures from the desert on a regular basis.
  Despite the presence of so many golems in Vivekanika,
  these hulking monstrosities usually leave visitors to the city
  alone. It is possible to wander throughout the many aban-
  doned buildings in the strange city for weeks on end and
  never once be disturbed—let alone noticed—by a single
  golem. This is an uneasy tranquility, though, as the slightest
  78
  
  random disturbance in the city can provoke golems to attack
  intruders. There is no rhyme nor reason to this—destroying
  a building may evoke no reaction from the golems, while
  plucking a single flower from a ruin make provoke a lethal
  response from a score of clay giants. The capricious nature
  of the golems is one main reason that most wise wanderers
  steer clear of this city. 
  One thing that has never properly been determined is where
  the metals emerging from Vivekanika actually originate.
  Several large expeditions have attempted to fully explore
  the city to find where the metals come from, but all have
  failed. It is thought that huge mines must lie somewhere
  beneath the city, but so far the locations of these mines
  remains a mystery.
  Xa Deshret
  (New Khonsuria)
  Steward of the Sphinx
  Emperor, Orkhon II
  Population: 104,990 (nalvor 75%, humans 10%, halflings
  6%, gnomes 4%, half-elves 3%, other 2%)
  Resources: Copper, silver, spices, foodstuffs
  Capital: Sakhaen Tair
  F
  rom the ashes of the fallen Khonsurian Empire came
  the land of Xa Deshret, “the waiting kingdom.” The
  ruined cities built by the slaves of the Sphinx Empire
  are still filled with the descendants of their most loyal ser-
  vants: the nalvor. While the deadly sands of the Ghetrian
  Desert swirl about this desolate region, the nalvor continue
  to maintain the ancient cities and buildings exactly as their
  former Sphinx masters once left them. Xa Deshret has little
  interest in the rest of the world, and apart from the infre-
  quent merchant caravans that are sent north for necessary
  supplies, it has relatively little contact with the rest of the
  world, including the other kingdoms of the Lostlands.
  The nalvor are a quiet, patient people, content to exist in iso-
  lation from the rest of the known world. However, this does
  not mean that they are gentle, as would-be invaders have
  learned to regret over the centuries. They believe themselves
  to merely be the temporary caretakers of the Empire, await-
  ing the return of their Sphinx masters. Anyone or anything
  that could potentially threaten the Empire—or the return of
  the Sphinx—is a threat that must be dealt with swiftly and
  without mercy. The nalvor were once the most feared foot
  soldiers of the Armies of the Sphinx; their descendents are
  equally skilled with both bow and blade, and equally as
  ruthless on the battlefield. 
  Xa Deshret is ruled over by a democratically elected Senate,
  which consists of one hundred members elected from the
  various communities of the desert nation. These elections
  occur every three years, on the eve of the Thirdstar festival.
  Whenever a new Senate is elected, its members choose a
  new steward, who serves as acting regent of Xa Deshret in
  the absence of the Sphinx Emperors. The Senate—under the
  guidance of its Steward—oversees all of the laws and the
  functions of the kingdom, ranging from the most trivial mat-
  ter to the most important. 
  Despite this power, the spectre of the old Sphinx Emperors
  looms ominously over the shoulder of the Senate. Before the
  Senate commits to any decision, they always must first
  determine if their decision would have been acceptable to
  their former masters. This requires poring through the texts
  of the Libraries of Zadjem for precedents and interpretations
  of centuries-old law, a task that can often cripple the entire
  nation for the most trivial of reasons.
  All of the efforts of the nalvor for the past several centuries
  revolve around a single, unyielding belief: Their departed
  Sphinx Emperors are about to return, and the Khonsurian
  Empire will return to its former glory upon this return. This
  belief has led the nalvor to merely maintain Xa Deshret as it
  once was, rather than moving on and leading their nation
  into the present. Much of this obstinate belief is due to the
  nalvor’s collective refusal to believe that their masters
  would ever desert them; however, this is also due to a
  prophecy known as the Shadhalian Codex, which speaks
  cryptically of a “return of ancient kings.”
  There are three main castes in the society of Xa Deshret,
  which are remnants from the slave era of the nalvor: the
  79
  
  Hand, the Fist, and the Word. The Hand, which represents
  the majority of Xa Deshret’s populace, are the workers—
  they work the farmlands, work the mines, and tend to the
  more brutal physical tasks that comprise the lifeblood of Xa
  Deshret, just as their ancestors once did. 
  The Fist are the warriors of Xa Deshret. Although not large
  in number, these warriors are ruthlessly efficient, and have
  been known to defeat hosts triple their size upon the field of
  battle. Perhaps the most unusual aspect of these warriors is
  that they have no conventional generals or leaders—the
  warrior caste is trained instead to obey the rules of war
  taught in a famous Khonsurian text, Seven Songs of Blood
  and Honor. Warriors fight in tight groups called tyraks, and
  these tyraks are taught to read and react to events occurring
  on the battlefield as one. They never retreat or surrender,
  making them a difficult foe to defeat in combat. 
  The Word are the scholars, merchants, and learned trades-
  men of Xa Deshret. The leading members of the Word caste
  also usually comprise the members of the Senate. The Word
  are easily identified by the silk azure robes they wear, and
  apart from accompanying merchant caravans to foreign
  lands, they almost never leave the confines of their cities. 
  Sakhaen Tair: (Large city, pop. 31,520) The capital of
  Sakhaen Tair is built near a vast canyon called Nhalo’s
  Scythe, through which the mighty Akhneten River flows. An
  ingenious system of mystical aqueducts diverts sections of
  the river upward into the city, providing it with plentiful
  water for both the city and its surrounding farmlands.
  Orkhon II is steward of Xa Deshret and has ruled it well for
  nearly three decades, protecting the remains of the Sphinx
  Empire from the savagery of the Vermilion Tribes and the
  ever-growing menace of Gorhgijesk and Rhaz al-Khali.
  While he respects the old ways and beliefs of the nalvor, he
  privately does not believe that the Sphinx Emperors will
  ever return to his homeland. With the dwindling of Xa
  Deshret’s current resources, and with growing interest by
  foreign traders in his kingdom, Orkhon II is struggling to
  move Xa Deshret into a position of strength in the world. He
  is a savvy and intelligent politician, but knows that to push
  a position of progress too hard with his countrymen is to risk
  civil war.
  Sakhaen Tair is also home to several tombs of the ancient
  Sphinx Emperors. The perimeter of the city is surrounded by
  a circle of twelve pyramids, each of which is gilded in gold.
  These pyramids, commonly known as the First Twelve, are
  the final resting places of all the Khonsurian Emperors from
  the First Dynasty. Although looted centuries ago by daring
  bandits, the remains of these Emperors still rest within the
  pyramid walls. Some say that the Emperors never truly died,
  but instead exist in undead torment. They wander restlessly
  between the pyramids, searching for peace in the under-
  ground catacombs that connect all of their tombs.…
  Rheksus: (Small city, pop. 16,745) Further down the
  Akhneten River is the city of Rheksus, located at the feet of
  the Mountains of the Fifth Prince. Rheksus is home to many
  silver and copper mines, which worm their way deep below
  the mountains. It is also as a center for Xa Deshret’s trade
  routes, with an impressive port that acts as a central link
  between the Lostlands and the civilized world. 
  Because there are few nalvor miners to extensively work the
  many older Khonsurian mines, the hills surrounding the city
  are rife with bandits and thieves seeking to exploit the avail-
  able riches. Many of the bandits are drow and derro from the
  Devil’s Cauldron. The imperial roads outside of Rheksus are
  extremely dangerous, making passage by boat the only safe
  way in and out of the city.
  Zadjem: (Small city, pop. 6,844) Oldest of the cities of Xa
  Deshret, Zadjem is located near the oases of Sheshat-Semet.
  It hosts the legendary Imperial Libraries of Khonsuria,
  which are reputed to contain the rarest and oldest books in
  the world, some of which date back to the Age of Dragons.
  Scholars and sages from the far reaches of the world have
  made pilgrimages to Zadjem in search of the Libraries and
  the forgotten secrets held within their walls. It is unknown if
  these pilgrims ever find what they seek, though—the
  Libraries are reportedly guarded by a mysterious iron crea-
  ture known only as the Keeper, and those who enter the
  ancient building never come out again. 
  In addition to the Libraries, Zadjem is known for its produc-
  tion of exotic spices and herbs. These spices, which are said
  to be created with arcane influences, are much sought after
  in the high courts of the Northlands by rich nobility. Some
  are also reputed to be highly addictive, and have in recent
  times begun to make the coffers of Xa Deshret full of gold
  coins again. 
  80
  
  81
  T
  he Known Realms of Áereth are so vast and
  diverse that a dozen tomes could be penned solely
  on the subject of geography. People and beasts
  alike bear the mark of their homeland; fierce and inhos-
  pitable lands breed savage tribes and terrible monsters,
  while tamed lands produce domesticated men and ani-
  mals. As the sages have often averred, to know the land
  is to know its inhabitants.
  Of Geographical Taxonomy and Nomenclature: The
  sights and landmarks of the Northlands have been named
  a dozen times in a dozen different tongues, beginning
  with the first elf and dwarf scouts, and then the wander-
  ing tribes of man, and their profusion of kingdoms,
  nations, and empires.
  Where the elder races still reign, the forests, mountains,
  and bodies of water bear their original names. Where
  humans have made inroads, the landmarks bear their
  stamp, and oft times succeeding empires of humans
  rename the landmarks of their fathers. The result is a pro-
  fusion of names—elven, dwarven, human, and others—
  scattered across the globe like fistfuls of coins.
  What names the mighty wyrms or sphinxes might have
  given to the trackless expanses—and what power those
  truenames might still hold over the land—is the exclu-
  sive domain of sages and madmen.
  Oceans, Seas, Lakes, and
  Lesser Notable Bodies
  of Water
  Akhneten River: This majestic river is the gateway to
  the Lostlands. Reaching out almost two thousand miles
  from the Warriors’ Gate, the Akhneten cuts deeply into
  the heart of the Ghetrian Desert, where it finally splits
  into the Twins. Both deep and wide, the river is easily
  able to support the largest of ocean-faring merchant
  ships, making it the primary lifeline between the
  Lostlands and the rest of the world.
  Archen River: Fed by Dundrae Lake, the Archen con-
  nects much of northern Crieste and is congested with
  river traffic for most of the year. River pirates plague the
  rural stretches, masquerading as legitimate traders or
  boarding merchant barges on moonless nights.
  Ayalan Sea: The cerulean waters of the Ayalan Sea are
  difficult to reach, requiring sea captains to navigate south
  of Zimala or through the dangers of Ssorlang, but legends
  of the god-touched sea have endured throughout the ages.
  The baleen whales of the Ayalan Sea are said to be celes-
  tial-blooded, granting good fortune to those who catch a
  glimpse of their white skin.
  Ayashtica River: Fed by countless rivers and streams
  through the Azcatlepi Jungle of northern Zimala, the
  Ayashtica is one of Áereth’s largest watercourses. The
  central river ranges from half a mile to several in width,
  making it navigable to ships that wish to travel inland on
  the Island of Obsidian. Thinking to avoid the hazards of
  the jungle, most travelers find themselves beset by river
  monsters far more dangerous. Water naga ambushes, still
  defending their ancient home, are almost expected the
  farther inland one travels. For this reason, riverboat cap-
  tains often bring valuables in hopes of placating the intel-
  ligent serpents. 
  Bay of Asur: Fed by mighty glaciers, the Bay of Asur is
  Chapter 4
  Geographic Features
  
  home to legendary white icebergs throughout the year.
  Most drift southward, slowly melting on their course, but
  some remain, caught in the mysterious eddies and cur-
  rents of the bay. The most ancient of these have existed
  for centuries, and serve as floating, hoary lairs to white
  dragons and worse. 
  Bay of Valfors: Located north of the Kingdom of
  Morrain, Valfors Bay is known by local fisherman as the
  Bay of Storms. Regularly beset by terrible gales, Valfors
  Bay has claimed more than its share of lives with storms
  strong enough to sink the mightiest merchant ship.
  Despite this fact, the Bay of Valfors is also home to some
  of the richest fishing waters in the North, and the prom-
  ise of wealth has lured many a sailor to his doom.
  Blade Reach, the: For as long as the Northlands have
  known war, the long inlet known as the Blade Reach
  served as a strategic landmark. Hordes of marauding bar-
  barians, orcs, trolls and goblins have all perished trying
  to cross the narrow inlet, or fight their way along its
  rocky beaches. The western shore of the Reach is dotted
  with towers and strongholds, some dating back thousands
  of years. While watch fires still burn in many of the
  citadels, scores have fallen into ruin and are now home to
  fell beasts and the undead.
  Blueblade Lake: Found on the eastern border of the
  Theocracy, Blueblade Lake is renowned for the nymph
  making her home beneath the clear waters. Legend holds
  that the nymph guards an ancient sword of unmatched
  power, and that the nymph permits worthy warriors to
  take up the blade in times of dire need.
  Chael Lake: Located in the center of the kingdom of
  Luithea, Chael Lake has long served as a source of food
  and trade. Before the rise of the Devil Lich, fishermen
  traded with the elves of the Corsan, but now relations are
  tense and often end in threats of violence. The north
  shores, where the lake is fed by
  the Corsan, are claimed exclu-
  sively by the Ashoch elves, who
  have declared the shores sacred
  to their people. The elves can
  often be seen at night, pushing
  their dead out onto the lake in
  burning reed skiffs.
  Chaelti River: Fed by the frigid
  waters of Chael Lake, the Chaelti
  rushes south to join with the
  Saedre and Kolheim. Though a
  major waterway for Amin Dor and
  its neighbors, the river is infested
  with predatory lizardfolk mounted
  atop tocinths, the giant albino
  snakes peculiar to the region.
  Cipachtli Bay: Named for a mythic crocodile of titanic
  size, the Cipachtli Bay was once a vast marsh that has
  since been flooded by the rivers of the Pochectic
  Mountains. Allegedly ruled by the primordial beast, the
  Bay is now fed from the east by the jungle rivers and is a
  popular spawning ground for locathah tribes. Though
  they seldom attack explorers in their nomadic wander-
  ings, the locathahs are fiercely aggressive when defend-
  ing Cipachtli Bay.
  Empyrean Ocean: The largest body of water in the
  Known Realms, the Empyrean Ocean divides the eastern
  continents of the Northlands and the Lostlands from the
  Southlands. Fearsome storms regularly sweep across the
  darkened waters, raising waves that can swallow entire
  galleons in a single crash. Mysterious whirlpools, enor-
  mous sea monsters, water drakes, and more have been
  reported by sailors crossing the deadly ocean.
  For much of known history, the Empyrean served as a
  barrier between the North and South. Only in recent cen-
  turies have advancements in sailing and magic made it
  possible for regular trade to exist between the continents.
  Even with these advancements, travel across the
  Empyrean remains an arduous, dangerous journey; of
  every ten ships that set sail for the Northlands, only seven
  arrive.
  Traders and merchant lords attempt to offset these dan-
  gers by traveling in groups of three or more. This has
  proven effective in warding off pirates, but the ocean’s
  terrible sea monsters have proven adept at striking the
  single weakest ship in the dead of night.
  Some sages aver that Áereth’s largest ruins rest some-
  where beneath the waters of the Empyrean. While exotic,
  strange artifacts do occasionally wash ashore on either
  side of the ocean, the thought of a single continent as
  large as the Empyrean sinking beneath the waves of the
  ocean is too much for even mad-
  men to grasp. 
  Fartrader River: The Fartrader
  once served as merchants travel-
  ing from coastal Arvale, all the
  way to savage Iderag. With the
  fall of the Grand Duchy, this sup-
  ply line has been greatly dimin-
  ished. Orcish armies have pulled
  great chains across the Fartrader
  to seize any boat foolish enough
  to attempt river passage, and
  hundreds of goblin archers and
  scouts guard the banks of the
  river to discourage portage. A
  handful of daring smugglers con-
  tinue to make runs from Cinai to
  82
  
  the coast in shallow skiffs, but their numbers grow fewer
  with each passing day.
  High Sea, the: Named for its commanding view of the
  surrounding hillsides, the High Sea rests inside the blast-
  ed crater of a dormant volcano. While not a sea in the true
  sense, the crater and its lake are nonetheless legendary in
  proportions. The waters are fed by boiling hot springs
  and roaring geysers. Drank from their source, the spring
  waters are said to have mystical properties, but few
  explorers survive the heat-loving monsters that flock to
  the steaming waters. 
  Hoarfrost Bay: Few places in all of Áereth can boast of
  fouler weather than that of Hoarfrost Bay. Nine months
  out of the year, the bay is locked in seething plates of ice
  that shred the hulls of ships like paper toys. Blizzards
  scour the frigid waters, blinding sailors so that ships run
  aground, their crews frozen at their stations. The remain-
  ing three months of the year, fierce storms batter the
  coastline with driving rain and hurricane-force winds.
  The savage weather of the Hoarfrost is matched only by
  the wealth beneath its waves. The plentiful schools of
  narwhales, emer fish, and lions of the sea draw fishermen
  and adventurers to the bay year after year.
  Imacuan Sea: The waters of the Imacuan Sea provide
  access to Northern Xulmec. The city of Halcyon, nestled
  between the sea and the rest of the Empyrean, offers
  surcease from the pirates of the Barrier Isles who would
  otherwise harass Southland-bound vessels and make the
  Imacuan a more dangerous place. Xulmecs from Athua
  and Darawan are frequently encountered along the
  Xulmec coastline. 
  Ironflow, the: The Ironflow is renowned for the wealth
  of minerals that are regularly washed down from its high
  cascades. Explorers report of a citadel of gnomes built
  over the very river. The citadel’s inhabitants attack tres-
  passers with uncharacteristic ferocity, driving away, cap-
  turing, or slaying all comers. 
  Izindol River: The Izindol flows east across the steppes
  to the city of Stromblaen where it empties into Hoarfrost
  Bay. The river is constantly plagued by fearsome crea-
  tures spawned in the Wastes of Zamon, and by Scourge
  raiders testing the resolve of the Koranthian people.
  Javran Sea: Avoided by most sailors, the dark waters of
  the Javran Sea are the known demesne of the dreaded
  krakens. Even the sahuagin are said to pay tribute to
  these lords of the deep. Consequently, the sea devils are
  known to raid ships daring to approach the Island of
  Tarras from the east. 
  Jester’s Tail, the: Named by the Criestine explorer
  Denys Morcault during his legendary voyages some one
  hundred years ago, this deep and powerful river flows
  through the southernmost reaches of the Lostlands. It is
  the only known passage between the Empyrean Ocean
  and the Twisted Sea. Evil nymphs and fairies are said to
  lurk along the shores of the river, luring sailors and other
  travelers along the river to their doom.
  Khiazan River: The Khiazan is a narrow but fast river,
  which leads from the city of Dupleiux in Morena Nova
  down to the southern regions of the kingdom and the
  Empyrean Ocean. Sahuagin raiders often prowl near the
  mouth of the Khiazan, attacking Morenan merchant ships
  as they make their way up to the cities.
  Kolheim River: The Kolheim River wends its way
  through the Warlands, feeding Raxem Lake before join-
  ing its sisters, the Saedre and Chaelti Rivers. The river’s
  banks run high late into spring, often delaying invasions
  from competing baronies. “With Kolheim’s blessing” is a
  black prayer commonly uttered by rogues scheming vio-
  lent plots. 
  Laeon River: The mighty Laeon takes its name from the
  unusual profusion of the manticores that make their dens
  in the gorge walls. The winged terrors display remarkable
  behavior akin to swarming, working as one to drive away
  those foolish enough to intrude upon their rocky domain. 
  Laeysian Sea: The Laeysian Sea is fed on all sides by
  rivers and connected to the great seas by the Strait of
  Kamasha and the Texcalapan Strait. It is surprisingly
  serene for most of the year, but each year monsoons bat-
  ter the coastline on the western edge for two months.
  The deep blue-green waters of the Laeysian are con-
  trolled by the drakon of Ssorlang, and any entering ship
  is likely to encounter a darkvenom captain. At best, for-
  eigners will find their cargo and passage steeply taxed. At
  worst, the ship will be confiscated and its crew shipped
  to the Ssorlang slave city of Kanthara. Only the Xulmecs
  of Darawan—and the mysterious Xanthous from the
  Shadowed West—are permitted to move across the sea
  unmolested.
  Lake Tlanec: The largest lake in the Southlands, the
  Tlanec houses the island city of Teotcoatlan, the apex of
  83
  
  Xulmec civilization. Despite the
  dense human population of this
  city and the three long causeways
  spanning the water, Lake Tlanec
  is vast, teaming with natural flora
  and fauna and boasting the great-
  est population of huezcatlas in
  the Southlands. The Teotcoatlans
  have domesticated the animal,
  but countless wild huezcatlas
  dwell on the banks of the lake.
  Lake Tyrgyz: This mystical
  lake, found in the eastern out-
  skirts of the Valley of Xyr
  Muthal, measures some ten miles
  in diameter, and reputedly is as
  deep as it is wide. The lake is
  supposedly the source of the
  Valley’s magical power. In addi-
  tion, the waters of the lake are
  said to “cure” the undead and
  bring them back to life.
  Leath River: With its headwaters at the spring-fed
  aquifers of Invergin, the Leath runs south, emptying into
  Wyrm’s Deep. With Invergin’s rise as a slaving capital,
  the Leath has begun to serve a more foul purpose: dispos-
  al of the city’s dead. 
  Lirean Sea: Located squarely between the North and
  Lostlands, the Sea of Lirea is at once the best-mapped sea
  of the North and its greatest mystery. Legend holds that
  the sea was once a landmass home to ancient empires of
  both dwarves and elves. These same myths tell that an
  ancient apocalypse of unknown origins caused the lands
  of Lirea to sink beneath the rushing waters of the
  Empyrean Ocean. Modern scholars doubt the legends of
  the Lirean—what magic could be strong enough to sink
  an entire subcontinent?—but weapons and coins of
  ancient make and unknown metals regularly wash
  ashore, keeping the rumors alive. Many companies of
  adventurers have tried to plumb the depths of the Lirean
  in search of lost treasure hordes; those that return tell of
  entire cities hidden beneath the waves, defended by
  fierce squid-men astride mighty dire sharks.
  Lost Lake: Lost Lake is named for the many-spired sil-
  ver citadel that fishermen sometimes see through the
  mists or on moonlit nights. The mysteries of the fae-
  haunted palace are closely held by the elves of the
  Corsan, who refuse to betray its secrets.
  Mochitla River: The Mochitla is a river of supernatural
  significance to the people of the Xulmec, for it defies the
  natural order, leading to what they believe is a physical
  gateway to Mictlan, the Land of the Dead. The river is
  fed by the great Tlata Falls, where
  the waters of the Imacuan Sea
  topple over an immense cataract
  into a wide, misty bay. From this
  anomalous 
  headwater, 
  the
  Mochitla—the only saltwater
  river ever known—flows inland,
  wending its way through the rain
  forests, hills, and marshes of
  Xulmec leading into the narrow
  gorges of the Anduran Mountains.
  Along this meandering path—
  from the northern coast of the
  peninsula to the wetlands to the
  mountain 
  ravines—mangroves
  grow in thick clusters along its
  shores, prompting an assortment
  of natural and unnatural fauna.
  Though sacred to the Xulmecs,
  the Mochitla is a turbulent and
  dangerous watercourse not easily
  navigated. Aquatic creatures nor-
  mally limited to the oceans and
  seas find in the Mochitla an opportunity to raid inland.
  Even the ocean-dwelling sahuagin have been known to
  seek vengeance against their terrestrial enemies by
  means of the Mochitla.
  Morro River: Named for the legendary founder of
  Morrain, it is believed that the icy flow of the Morro con-
  ceals the tomb of the First Lord. How such a crypt might
  be constructed—or how it could be uncovered—remains
  unknown. The Morro is one of the chief spawning rivers
  for the emer fish, and fishermen and dire bears alike
  flock to the river’s shores during the annual spawning
  period. 
  Quetli River: One of Zimala’s fastest-running rivers, the
  Quetli swells year round from a labyrinth of mountain
  streams, then divides in the east to join the Ayashtica
  watercourse and the Chiauhtli Delta. Explorers crossing
  the river have reported a mysterious cloudiness to the
  otherwise healthy water, which is usually attributed to the
  Pochectic Mountains that feed it.
  Raxem, the: The Raxem marks the southernmost reach-
  es of the Warlands, where the baronies brush up against
  the realm of the Mountain of the King. The lake is reput-
  ed to conceal ancient vaults beneath its dark waters, but
  a profusion of giant water serpents and tentacled horrors
  protect the Raxem’s secrets. 
  Red Death, the: Named for the bodies of Laerdian
  slaves that wash downstream, the Red Death also serves
  as a waterway for Scourge forces on the move. Laerdian
  insurgents constantly watch the river, reporting troop
  84
  
  movements back to their
  commanders, but just as
  often the spies wash ashore
  in Wyrm’s Deep, reinforc-
  ing the river’s wicked repu-
  tation. 
  Roguewash, the: Named
  for the profusion of bandits
  and ruffians that make their
  homes along its muddy
  banks, 
  the 
  Roguewash
  serves as the primary
  means of transportation for
  those traveling long distances through the Freeholds.
  More than one outlaw has escaped a mob of pursuers by
  plunging into the Roguewash, emerging several miles
  downstream and vanishing into the wilderness.
  Saedre River: The Saedre River cuts across the western
  Northlands, meeting the mighty Chaelti and Kolheim
  before plunging down the Black Gorge and into the
  Straits of Ymtal. The river marks the southern boundaries
  of the Wilds; those venturing across the north shore are
  courageous, mad, or foolhardy in the extreme.
  Scragtooth Strait: Named for the aquatic trolls that raid
  along the northern coastline, the cold waters of
  Scragtooth Strait are dangerous for those that linger.
  Mariners sailing between the Criestine Colonies and their
  Northland benefactors make the voyage through the strait
  as quickly as possible. Ships that throw anchor for even
  a single night along the strait are seldom seen again.
  According to old seamen’s tales, the ships that tarry in
  the night are swallowed by the night itself; when they are
  seen again, they are crewed by the undead.
  Sea of Desperation: The tempestuous waters of the Sea
  of Desperation are as mystifying as the landmasses it
  touches. Nebulous magic as old as dragonkind is
  believed to exist within this ancient sea—even experi-
  enced seamen have found countless anomalies amidst the
  roiling waves. Historical recordings and ancient
  Southland pictographs document a time when the sea
  was half its current size. If the local soothsayers speak
  the truth, the Sea of Desperation is slowly swallowing the
  land in a westward advance. The Eztenqui Jungle slowly
  dissolves even as land rises up amidst the isles of
  Dujamar. If one sails due west of Tarras, the waters are
  said to darken to the color of pitch as it nears the outlands
  of the Shadowed West. 
  Scar Lake: Scar Lake is the largest artificial body of
  water in the North. The Scar was quarried for the granite
  blocks that built the foundation of Azmog-Azmennum,
  and grew to serve as a highway for drow and orc traders
  from the Underdeep. When the dark elves attempted a
  coup 
  against 
  Tarkhan
  Khurzog, the ogre-mage
  flooded the quarry, obliter-
  ating the drow and forming
  the reservoir now known as
  Scar Lake.
  Straits of Ymtal: While
  sheltered from the raging
  storms that terrorize the
  Empyrean shipping lanes,
  the Straits of Ymtal harbor
  fearsome sea monsters,
  including the terrible drag-
  on turtle. Sailors have reported finding carcasses of mas-
  sive sea snakes, some over a mile long, bearing terrible
  gaping wounds and floating in the Ymtal. It is unknown
  what sort of monster could be large enough to prey upon
  this size of sea snake, and if any sailors ever witnessed
  such a beast, they didn’t live to tell the tale. 
  Surya Sea: Named after an elemental lord referenced in
  many mythologies, the Surya Sea has always been a
  place of divine activity. During the Reign of Dragons,
  mighty wyrms communed with their ocean-dwelling
  brethren and beseeched the goddess Pelagia to shelter
  some of their greatest artifacts beneath the waves. During
  the Reign of Cats and the Reign of Serpents, the naga and
  sphinx empires are said to have constructed a causeway
  of monumental size that stretched across the Surya. If
  those stories can be believed, the bridge was collapsed
  after an epic war and treasures from both empires sank
  into the depths. A scattering of islands within the Surya
  still bear the ruined foundations of an ancient civiliza-
  tion, speaking to the possible truth of such stories. 
  Whatever legend says of the Surya, its present dangers
  are indisputable. Odd rock formations beneath the waves
  have razed the hulls of countless ships, and most attempts
  to chart these perilous rocks have failed. Even the pirates
  of the Barrier Isles brave the Surya only when the prom-
  ise of wealth justifies the risk. Only the adept boatmen of
  Athua regard the sea with little fear, for their patron god
  is said to have ascended to divinity within its depths.
  Additionally, the waters along the eastern rim of Xulmec
  are the domains of merfolk and tritons, friendly if shy to
  humanoid sailors who do not bear the trappings of
  pirates. 
  Texcalapan Strait: Dividing the Island of Obsidian and
  the peninsula of Xulmec, the Texcalapan Strait is a wide
  channel notoriously patrolled by the drakon. Though not
  strictly within Ssorlang’s province, the imperious snake
  men accost all who brave these waters, demanding steep
  taxes or slaughter. All Zimalan expeditions launched
  from the city-states of Xulmec are certain to cross the
  paths of the drakon pirates in this strait, forcing travelers
  85
  
  to contend with them or pay their
  unreasonable tolls.
  Tlata Falls: The miraculous
  Tlata Falls defy the natural order,
  as the waters of the Imacuan flow
  into a wide basin below sea level
  and form the headwaters of the
  salty Mochitla River. How the sea
  does not overtake the surrounding
  land altogether is not understood
  even by the Xulmec druids who
  serve as caretakers to the Falls.
  Though anomalous to nature, the
  phenomenon is considered god-
  touched by the natives, not the
  ministrations of evil.
  Tojan Bay: The icy waters of
  Tojan Bay were renamed for the
  curious creatures that appeared
  there 
  three 
  centuries 
  ago.
  Tojanidas, outlandish omnivores
  that legend says came from
  beyond Áereth’s mortal realms, lurk amidst the waves
  and observe all who sail through them. Peaceable but
  quite willing to defend themselves, the tojanidas are said
  to tell many tales to those who speak their elemental lan-
  guage.
  Twins, the: Branching off of the Akhneten River near the
  city of Sakhaen Tair, these twin rivers—also known by
  the more formal names of the Ctabakul and the
  Ctesiphal—cut through the blazing Ghetrian Desert like
  scimitars, providing life to this arid wasteland. The
  Ctesiphal heads northeast toward the Vermilion Steppes,
  while the Ctabakul winds its way toward the Herennia
  Mountains and through Xa Deshret.
  Twisted Sea, the: This unexplored sea lies along the
  southeastern coast of the Lostlands. Few sailors are dar-
  ing enough to venture out into these black, cruel waters;
  the last known explorer to challenge the Twisted Sea was
  Denys Morcault, and his fleet of five ships disappeared
  forever. The little information that is known about this
  vast southern sea is that navigation is exceedingly diffi-
  cult—compasses and sextants give wildly inaccurate
  readings, and even the constellations seem to shift in the
  evening sky. Other scattered stories about the Twisted
  Sea speak of giant krakens and armies of sahuagin; how-
  ever, these stories are little more than sailors’ folklore.
  Ukhorvus Nuur: This giant freshwater lake in the south-
  ern regions of the Lostlands is the primary source of
  water for both the Ctabakul River and the Jester’s Tail.
  Also known as the Dark Blue Pearl, this massive lake is
  more than 70 miles wide, and acts as a welcome source
  of relief for those crossing this
  desolate 
  region 
  of 
  Áereth.
  Raiders from nearby Rhaz al-
  Khali, though, are said to patrol
  the banks of Ukhorvus Nuur,
  searching for unwary travelers to
  abduct and use in their unholy rit-
  uals.
  Urdu River: The Urdu has a sin-
  ister 
  reputation 
  born 
  from
  Tiam’tze, the ancient mound-city
  at its headwaters. Annually, the
  river’s waters flood red, and hun-
  dreds of tiny dragonlings are
  flushed down the rocky gorges.
  Resembling 
  pale, 
  foot-long
  worms, the dead dragonlings are
  quickly devoured by the carrion
  eaters of the Urdu and Saltwitch.
  The origins and significance of
  the dragonlings remains a mys-
  tery.
  Warriors’ Gate: Immense white crystal cliffs complete-
  ly surround this massive bay, which feeds into the
  Akhneten River. These gigantic crystals gleam so bright-
  ly in the sun that navigating through the bay is a task best
  left to the most experienced of sailors. Many a shipwreck
  lies beneath the jagged crystals of the Warriors’ Gate.
  Unfortunately for most merchants and explorers travel-
  ing to this part of the world, Warriors’Gate is the primary
  gateway connecting the Empyrean Ocean to the rest of
  the Lostlands. 
  Parts of the crystal cliffs were carved eons ago into an
  elaborate mural, which depicts the ancient battles
  between the sphinx and the naga. Lying behind many of
  the carved figures in the mural are a system of caves and
  tunnels, rumored to be home to many vile beasts and to
  many ancient treasures.
  Wyrm’s Deep: The shoreline of the Wyrm marked the
  last stand of the defeated armies of Leherti. Unable to
  retreat, unwilling to let the Scourge pass, the generals ral-
  lied their broken forces—reinforced by an alliance of
  human knights, dwarves, and elves—and held the Wyrm
  against impossible odds. Today the shallows of Wyrm’s
  Deep are littered with the bones and armor of a thousand
  soldiers and the hundreds of fell beasts they fought to a
  stalemate.
  86
  
  Hills, Highlands, and
  Mountains
  Anduran Mountains:
  Along with the Atlauhti
  Mountains, the massive Andurans form a natural barrier
  that sequesters the peninsula of Xulmec from the rest of
  the Southlands. These cold highlands further insulate
  from the unnatural heat of the Eztenqui Jungle and the
  Plains of Fire to the west. The climate of the Andurans
  varies drastically throughout its full length, mostly by its
  diverse elevations. Though the mountains are dominated
  chiefly by the humans of the Xulmec city-state of
  Amoya, many other creatures beyond the ken of any
  humanoid province make the mountains their home.
  Great eagles and condors lair in the rocky aeries, while
  rumors exist of white dragons living among the ice-
  encrusted peaks. From the colder foothills, trolls occa-
  sionally venture out in search of human flesh.
  Atlauhti Mountains: Also called the Canyon Peaks, the
  Atlauhti Mountains run east and west, joining the
  Andurans to separate Xulmec from all other lands. Only
  Omian Pass allows for easy passage between them.
  Warmer and lower in elevation than their neighboring
  mountains, the Atlauhtis are infamous for their sheer and
  jagged slopes and the volcanic activity common through-
  out. The city-state of Chuzec owes it very identity to
  these infernal mounts.
  Barrows, the: The Barrows take their name from the
  scores of cairns and tombs hidden among the rock clefts
  and ridges. Those returning from expeditions to the
  Barrows report of a curse that hangs over the area; most
  adventurers die within six months of returning from these
  haunted hills. 
  Blackore Hills: Running along the eastern coast of the
  Criestine coast, the Blackore hills hide numerous cave
  complexes, and are notorious for their profusion of gob-
  linoids and their wicked ilk. Merchants passing within
  sight of the Blackores are advised to be on their guard for
  worg riders and worse.
  Caverns of Menkauhor, the: Located near the northern
  stretches of the Jester’s Tail, these craggy caves serve as
  lairs for dozens of tribes of kobolds, goblins, and orcs. It
  is a savage and formidable area—skilled warriors are
  essential for traversing this region safely. Many of the
  caverns lead to twisting passages that descend downward
  for miles, with some of the major caverns acting as gate-
  ways that reach down to the World Below. 
  Cliffs of Dyzan: Locked in the icy reaches of the
  Northlands, the Cliffs of Dyzan loom above the Bay of
  Valfors, rising a thousand feet above the crashing surf.
  Worn smooth by time and cruel northern storms, the red
  stone cliffs house a number of sea caves at the water’s
  edge. With no beach to moor on, exploration requires
  maneuvering skiffs into the caves, a dangerous proposi-
  tion under the best of circumstances. 
  Dragonspire Mountains: The sharp peaks of the
  Dragonspires define the eastern border of the Northlands.
  Drawn like a line between the younger nations of the
  west, and the antiquated empires of the east, the moun-
  tain range is home to ruins older than either civilization.
  Entire dead cities stand watch atop the high passes, entic-
  ing sages and treasure seekers alike.
  Dünerain Mountains: Running along the western coast
  of the Northlands, the Dünerain mountains are home to
  some of the richest mineral veins in all of the North.
  Attempts at mining are plagued by evil giants and their
  kin, who consider the Dünerains to be an ancestral home-
  land, sacred to their kind. Ruins of giant-sized tombs and
  palaces bear testament to this theory, as does the profu-
  sion of elder dire beasts. It is well known that a red wyrm
  of unmatched age and ferocity dozes somewhere beneath
  the Dünerains, guarding a trove of ancient treasure. The
  dread beast hasn’t been seen for a century or more; if it
  still lives, then it is certain to stir soon.
  Fangs, the: Local legend holds that the Fangs are the last
  remains of a mythic “world dragon.” Whether or not the
  tales hold any truth, it is clear to all that the formations
  are distinctly unnatural. The calcified white spires are
  home to a multitude of winged beasts that prey upon each
  other and the deer of the plains. 
  Frosteye Mountains: The Frosteye Mountains stand
  stark against the northern reaches of the Dominor range.
  While not as awesome as the Ul Dominors, their north-
  ern latitude ensures that the Frosteyes are encased in ice
  and whirling snow through out the year. The glaciers atop
  the Frosteyes fracture into deep crevasses and endless ice
  mazes. None but the hardiest of monsters make their
  home amid the icy spires, and woe to any who should
  cross their frozen paths. 
  Herennia Mountains: Warring tribes of thunder giants,
  lightning giants, and trolls inhabit these tall, imposing
  mountains, which are located in the northern regions of
  Morena Nova. In recent years, these giants have also con-
  stantly raided the human settlements located near the
  87
  
  base of the mountains, turning
  these villages into ghost towns. 
  The northernmost parts of the
  Herennia Mountains serve as the
  ancestral home of the dwarven
  kingdom of Taijin, who keep
  mostly to the tallest of the moun-
  tains, Mount Raiju. 
  Kharan Plateau: Looming high
  over the western edge of
  Ssorlang, the Kharan Plateau
  extends well beyond the western
  edge of the Known Realms and
  eventually reaches the Shadowed
  West. Upon first gaining the
  highland from the countryside of
  Ssorlang, one will find a hos-
  pitable forest edge offering a
  panoramic view of the Laeysian
  Sea. As one ventures further
  west, a vast, sterile heath pres-
  ents itself, with fewer traces of life showing with each
  mile. Only the hardiest of flora endures within the
  Kharan wasteland, and shelter from its aberrant monsters
  grows scarce.
  Kitezhan Mountains: These tall, inhospitable mountains
  once served as the stronghold for many powerful clans of
  marauding orc barbarians. However, during the War of the
  Greatspear four hundred years ago, the Vermilion Tribes
  eradicated the Kitezhan Mountains of these barbarian orc
  clans in a long and bloody siege. Orc ghosts and vampires
  are said to still haunt the ruins of the few remaining orc
  enclaves not utterly razed to the ground.
  Litzitlan Hills: At a glance, the Litzitlan Hills are pictur-
  esque and serene, not the kind of place a visitor would
  believe is universally shunned by the Xulmec natives.
  Nevertheless, spending any length of time there is an
  invitation to death or capture, for lurking beneath the
  hills are legions of formians, ever building and securing
  their domain. The Xulmecs respect and fear the alien,
  hive-minded creatures, avoiding them whenever possible
  and, with only very limited success, trading with them on
  rare occasions. In the fifty years since their appearance in
  the hills, the formians have not sought to invade any of
  the city-states, though their sudden presence forced the
  Xulmecs to reconstruct their trade roads and circumvent
  the insect people. The queen formian has on occasion
  sent out a few of her myrmarchs to make contact with the
  neighboring humans, reminding them that the Litzitlan
  Hills belong to the hive-city, whose name cannot be pro-
  nounced by humanoid tongues. All trespasses into their
  domain are taken as offers of service, as trespassers will
  become formian slaves.
  Mirdar-Luminar
  Steppes:
  Named for the ancient elven
  nation that once ruled the plains,
  the steppes are now home to the
  armies of the Scourge. By night,
  thousands of bonfires blanket the
  plains, like reflections of the star-
  lit sky, and by day raiders scour
  the steppes for escaped slaves
  and outlaws.
  Ruins of elven towers still dot
  the Mirdar-Luminar, rising like
  spears from the windswept
  steppes. Tarkhan Khurzog has
  placed sentries around each
  tower, and scores of Scourge
  explorers have vanished into the
  various ruins, never to be seen
  again.
  Montzulec Mountains: Along
  with the Nahualli Mountains, the
  Montzulecs serve as the natural barrier between Zimala’s
  humid jungles in the north and the arid plains in the south.
  Many of these peaks are dormant or dead volcanoes,
  though their volatile activity in the distant past gave
  Zimala its name as the Island of Obsidian. The dark, vol-
  canic glass is still found in great abundance within these
  mighty mountains—though accessing it is another matter.
  Little is known about what other secrets and dangers lie
  hidden in the Montzulecs and Nahuallis, but many
  unsubstantiated legends have endured. Mt. Huicatl, also
  known as the Pedestal of Heaven, rises from the center
  point of the Montzulecs where they meet the Nahualli
  Mountains and is believed to be the tallest mountain in
  the Known Realms. A cloud giant city is only one legend
  among many affiliated with Mt. Huicatl. Another is that
  of Gørmnaar, a moving city of frost giants—some say,
  the homeland of all their kind—carved out of a massive
  glacier that slowly advances through the mountains at the
  behest of their shamans. Yet another story tells of the
  Stormspire, a tower once inhabited by silver wyrms and
  their humanoid apprentices during the Reign of Dragons.
  Guarded now only by a single draconic lich, the lost
  Stormspire housed magical experiments too deadly for
  the proximity of more populous lands.
  Mount Icpitl: On the Isle of Tlahuaco, Mount Icpitl is a
  dead volcano rumored to house the pyramid fortress of
  the legendary Emerald Cobra, Xiuhcoatl. The few
  Criestine scouts who have braved the Eztenqui Jungle in
  search of it have reported lizardfolk and other hostile rep-
  tilian creatures dwelling in the vicinity of Mount Icpitl. 
  Mountains of the Fifth Prince: Effectively the main
  barrier between the Lostlands and the Northlands, the
  88
  
  Mountains of the Fifth Prince stretch across the entire
  continent, connecting the Empyrean Ocean to the
  Twisted Sea. The Mountains of the Fifth Prince are
  named for Djedkara the Bold, an androsphinx and impe-
  rial prince who was the predecessor to the Great Queen
  Ankharet. Djedkara, who died under mysterious circum-
  stances, is said to be buried along with three other Sphinx
  Kings somewhere in the Mountains, in a series of con-
  nected tombs called the Nekropolis Magna. 
  The Mountains of the Fifth Prince are also home to rov-
  ing tribes of gnolls, which frequently raid the nalvor set-
  tlements that lie near the base of this range. The few
  mountain paths that cut through the Mountains and con-
  nect the Lostlands to the southernmost regions of
  Saramathia are well hidden, and known only to a few
  daring guides and rangers.
  Nahualli Mountains: See Montzulec Mountains.
  Omian Pass: A natural canyon in the Atlauhti Mountains
  widened by time, Omian Pass was secured by the
  Criestine colonists and Xulmecs when their alliances
  were formed centuries ago. Its center smoothed by fre-
  quent passage, both ends of the pass were laid with the
  stone roads by the Xulmecs of Kaatlan and Teotcoatlan.
  Nicknamed the Passage of Bones for the bleached color
  of the canyon walls, travel through the pass is kept rela-
  tively safe by the patrols from Ft. Montsiang. Recently,
  reports of a mated pair of rocs have limited the number
  of caravans, while a pride of strange, black-furred kren-
  shars have been attacking travelers on the fringes of the
  pass’s southern side.
  Pearl Spires, the: Along the western coast of Xa Deshret
  are a series of jagged mountain peaks, steep and formed
  from dazzling white stone. Inhabited by tribes of giants
  and trolls, the Spires are a deadly region, with only a
  handful of winding trails leading from the shores of the
  Empyrean Ocean to the Ghetrian Desert and the imperial
  roads of Xa Deshret. Abandoned silver mines lie deep
  below the mountains, which were worked centuries ago
  by dwarf and nalvor slaves.
  Hidden somewhere amongst the tallest of the Spires is
  thought to be the Tower of the Shattered Sword. Built
  several centuries ago, the Tower was then used as a
  stronghold by the Criestiene Emperor Mattias II, who
  attempted in vain to invade Xa Deshret as part of a mis-
  guided holy crusade. Its exact location has been lost to
  the ages.
  Pochectic Mountains: The perennial mists that cling to
  the summits of the Pochectic Mountains have given rise
  to numerous legends. The drakon of Ssorlang believe
  that the mists hide ancient dragon citadels, while the
  Xulmecs claim that they conceal the thrones of elder
  gods, divinities so old they have passed into retirement
  and now look upon the world from these enshrouded
  peaks. Whatever the truth, expeditions into the
  Pochectics are seldom without incident. Reports of illu-
  sionary terrains and sudden, unnatural rockslides lend
  credence to the belief that the mountains have something
  to hide.
  Saint’s Blood Mountains: Wreathed in snow and shack-
  led by ice, the Saint’s Bloods stand guard over the distant
  north, marking the furthest reaches of the Known
  Realms. Sages promote many theories of what lies
  beyond, and of fell monsters that make their home in the
  inhospitable wastes, but these speculations have yet to be
  proven. 
  Trolltooth Peaks: Rising where the Ul Dominors
  approach the Lirean Sea, the Trolltooth Peaks are smaller
  than their northern cousins, but no less inhospitable. Sharp
  and craggy like their namesakes, the Trolltooths are home
  to savage ogres, goblins, and many tribes of stone giants.
  Ul Dominor Mountains: Home to the mighty Holdfast
  of the Steel Overlord, the Ul Dominor Mountains divide
  the Northlands in two. The highest peaks in all the North,
  the Ul Dominors are covered with snow year-round.
  Crossing the high peaks requires either dealing with the
  dour folk, or risking encounters with fell beasts that make
  their home in the mountaintop glaciers.
  Urkallan Hills: Marking the northern border of the
  Criestine Empire, the hills have long been a source of
  mystery. Reportedly raised during a battle between two
  great wizards, those passing over the hills at night speak
  of seeing strange lights and unexplained noises, and mer-
  chant traders refuse to camp in the hills. Regardless of
  rumors, the Urkallans clearly serve as home to kobolds
  89
  
  and ogres that make a habit of
  preying on the villages scattered
  about the hills. 
  Uru’Nuk Highlands: The grassy
  highlands are home to the
  nomadic tribes of Saramanthia,
  and several species of migratory
  lizard-beasts. Fertile and blessed
  with regular rain, the tall-grass
  prairie is also reputed to conceal
  an enormous ruin beneath the
  grassy plains. Half-buried walls
  and grass-covered seals dot the
  highlands, lending credence to the
  theory of multiple ruins; certainly
  the whispers of a single massive
  ruin beneath the turf are nothing
  more than an exaggerated myth.
  Valley of Xyr Muthal: An isolat-
  ed paradise in the heart of the
  Lostlands, this lush, fertile valley
  is home to dinosaurs and other
  primitive beasts. Creatures thought to be long extinct can
  be found in abundance wandering through the Valley of
  Xyr Muthal, making this strange and wondrous place a
  living anachronism that seems to exist outside of time.
  Rare plants grow in abundance throughout the entire
  region, and gigantic herds of game animals roam freely
  across the flowing grasslands.
  Despite its obvious riches, the Valley of Xyr Muthal
  remains largely untouched and undisturbed by the rest of
  civilization. This is not due to any lack of desire by the
  kingdoms that surround it. Sorcery permeates this land—
  those who wander through the valley seem to quickly
  lose their memories, and physically transform into more
  savage, primitive versions of what they once were. Only
  the most powerful of magics can protect travelers against
  this transformation. The main source of magic for the
  valley is reputedly Lake Tyrgyz, which can be found in
  the eastern regions of this area.
  Although the Valley of Xyr Muthal has not been ruled—
  or, for that matter, successfully claimed—by any of the
  kingdoms of the Lostlands since the fall of the
  Khonsurian Empire, the denizens of the Valley are led in
  loose fashion by a strange barbarian queen called Sionala.
  Although little is known about this barbarian warrior, the
  few stories that have slipped out of the Valley suggest that
  she is a warrior of immense power with magical abilities,
  and may in fact be a demigod. The extent of her influence
  over the rest of the Valley of Xyr Muthal is unknown.
  Vermilion Steppes, the: Known primarily for the tough,
  blood-red grass that permeates the entire area, the
  Vermilion Steppes are an unfor-
  giving land. Only the hardiest of
  creatures are able to survive in
  this desolate place, let alone
  thrive. The climate of the
  Vermilion Steppes alternates
  wildly between fiery heat and
  brutal cold, often within the span
  of just a few days. Winds whip
  harshly through the Steppes like a
  sword stroke throughout the year.
  Small bands of kobold and goblin
  raiders make their home here, as
  do herds of shadroquus and an
  elusive dragon or two, but the
  undisputed rulers of this waste-
  land are the Vermilion Tribes of
  the wild elves. 
  During the time of the Sphinx
  Emperors, a mighty battle was
  once fought upon the Vermilion
  Steppes against a demonic
  horde. The Armies of the Sphinx
  were victorious, but the blood of the fallen demons per-
  manently stained the battlefield a crimson red. To the
  present day, if a warrior drives a dagger deep into the soil
  of the Vermilion Steppes, the tip of the blade still comes
  out wet with fresh demon blood. For this reason, many
  undead creatures that feast on blood, such as ghouls and
  vampires, have made their lairs in the Steppes.
  Forests, Jungles, and
  Woodlands
  Amn’crith: The Amn’crith is home to the largest-known
  specimens of Ashwood trees found in the North. Rising
  several hundred feet above the forest floor, the massive
  old-growth trees house cities of elves and great rocs that
  make their nests in the trees’ uppermost branches. The
  floor of the forest is less traveled and much more wild,
  and reports of gnolls and ogres surface from time to time.
  See also Elven Nations in Chapter 1. 
  Azcatlepi Jungle: Logographic glyphs in ancient naga
  ruins suggest that before the Reign of Serpents, the
  Azcatlepi Jungle was half its present size, with arid
  plains dominating the Zimalan landscape. Despite this
  assertion, there is no disputing that the Azcatlepi remains
  Áereth’s largest-known rainforest. Comparable to the
  Eztenqui Jungle with its dangers, the sheer size and den-
  sity makes the Azcatlepi even more impenetrable.
  Animals of every size and color live in the verdurous
  depths, along with giant vermin, supernatural serpents,
  and both carnivorous and herbivorous dinosaurs. Rain
  90
  
  falls frequently, and tropical fevers have been known to
  claim the lives of entire expeditions.
  Yet benevolent creatures are said to share the jungle with
  monstrous predators. Where most explorers report
  ambushes and numerous casualties, others have reported
  friendly fey and strange, otherworldly beings. The
  Xulmec guides who lead Northland explorers to old
  Zimala speak of mythic beings from celestial countries
  seeking isolation on the mortal world.
  Blackbriar Wood: The sun-dappled vales and tumbling
  waterfalls of the Blackbriar are regarded as among the
  most beautiful vistas in all the north, but the forest is best
  known for its ambassadors: the celebrated Blackbriar
  Elves. Fiery warrior-mages, the elves of the wood have
  distinguished themselves in military service in the
  Criestine colonies and in royal courts throughout the
  north. In turn, the Blackbriar has been spared the depre-
  dations common to other ancient woodlands, allowing
  the elves to nurture the beasts and flora of their ward.
  While certainly not devoid of predators or monsters, the
  woodlands of the Blackbriar are also home to the healthy
  populations of good creatures, including pegasi and even
  the occasional retiring unicorn. 
  Cairnswild: Peaceful and welcoming during the day, at
  night the rocky trails and shadowed dells of the
  Cairnswild become the hunting ground for untold num-
  bers of undead that rise from the abundance of crypts,
  cairns, and barrows that dot the forested hills. At dusk,
  the branches seem to close in, absent vines hang from
  dead limbs, once-familiar trails take new turns, and woe
  to anyone caught within the forest’s chill grasp after
  nightfall.
  Corsan Forest: Ancient Corsan is much like her elven
  wardens: stately, noble and mighty, the tall pines and
  moss-lined trails whisper secrets of the ages. Sylvan and
  monstrous beasts exist in a careful balance; the elves did
  not orchestrate this balance, but they do protect it, ever
  mindful of the forest’s health. 
  Similarly, the forest is home to fae of both good and
  wicked bent, and those venturing into its sheltered glades
  are advised to make offerings to its oldest residents. A
  singular black unicorn has been sighted in the woods, and
  mages across the North have offered vast sums for its
  capture. 
  Crystalmeet Wood: A foul curse has overtaken the
  Crystalmeet, twisting its trees into tormented mockeries
  of nature, transforming its beasts into slavering aberra-
  tions, and slaying its elven keepers and raising them as
  intelligent undead. The origins of this curse, and any
  indications to its remedy, are all a mystery. Those inves-
  tigating the Crystalmeet are seldom seen again, and those
  who do return are never quite the same again. One
  notable example is the righteous paladin, Lady
  Shandovar of the Lance, who now resides in an Arvalis
  sanatorium, where she spends her days drooling on her
  shocked gray hair and mumbling rites to aberrant gods.
  Eztenqui Jungle: Primeval magic dwells in the heart of
  the Eztenqui Jungle, and it seldom benefits its intruders.
  Sweltering heat permeates the jungle at all times of the
  year, making the surrounding lands more tropical than
  their latitude would suggest. Arcane scholars even sur-
  mise that this torrid magic is linked to the Plains of Fire
  to the south. The animals and beasts that prowl the
  Eztenqui, however, have adapted to its extreme humidity
  and high temperature. Of great danger to frontiersmen
  and explorers are the storms of stirges that inhabit the
  jungle, although even the dried husks of animals and
  humanoids are insufficient warning to the true threat
  these creatures pose when they arrive in great numbers.
  Assassin vines, twisted fey, and even green hags are said
  to dominate the deep jungle, but the promise of treasure-
  laden ruins in the jungle continue to draw in the greedy
  despite common wisdom.
  Despite its menace, the Eztenqui Jungle is diminishing.
  Carved in the face of one of the Atlauhti mountains, a
  crude map presumably once used by stone giants depicts
  the Eztenqui Jungle as reaching from where the Xocoatic
  Marshes lay to halfway across the Sea of Desperation. In
  the few centuries, the jungle’s eastern fringes have soft-
  ened, dissolving into a marshy network of tiny isles and
  salty channels. When the Criestine colonists first settled
  upon Southland shores, the eastern side of the Eztenqui
  Jungle was known as the Tlahuaco Coast—yet Tlahuaco
  has since become an isle of its own, only the largest of
  many as the Eztenqui is slowly swallowed by the Sea of
  Desperation.
  Ferahn Forest: The Ferahn Forest is notorious for being
  thick with goblins and orcs, and merchants passing
  through its darkened glades are advised to retain the serv-
  ice of stout warriors and spellcasters. Less well known
  are the small communities of reclusive elves, hidden far
  from the usual trails and prying eyes. The elves make
  91
  
  their homes in grassy glades and
  beneath the boughs of ancient
  trees. It is said that the elves,
  though few in number, wage con-
  stant war against the goblinoids,
  and welcome those who would
  lend a bow to their cause. The
  Ferahn marks the eastern border
  of the nation of Thire. 
  Jungles of Sahaptia, the: This
  region of mighty jungles sits
  along the southeastern border of
  Xa Deshret. The jungles are well
  known throughout the world for
  their legendary darkfyre trees,
  which grow as tall as four hun-
  dred feet in height and often have
  a diameter of fifty feet or more.
  Wood from the darkfyre trees is
  highly coveted by shipbuilders,
  who claim that the wood can be
  used to build warships twice as
  strong and as fast as a normal ship. Loose bands of evil
  treants skulk about the jungle, making the cutting and
  cultivation of darkfyre trees difficult for ambitious timber
  merchants. 
  However, this jungle region is perhaps most infamously
  known as the home of the pteral race—hideous insect-
  like humanoids with a voracious appetite for the flesh
  and blood of humanoid creatures. The pterals live in
  giant blood-red hives, which either hang from the dark-
  fyre trees or have been built inside the ruins of
  Khonsurian temples standing on the outskirts of the jun-
  gle. Although the pterals mercifully stay dormant for
  long periods of time—usually for seven years—at the
  end of this hibernation,
  they emerge in a feeding
  frenzy, annihilating every-
  thing within several hun-
  dred miles of their blood
  hives. According to the
  written histories in Xa
  Deshret, 
  the 
  Sphinx
  Emperors once were able
  to keep the wasp-men at
  bay. However, the secret to
  this success has been long
  forgotten, and with each
  awakening, the reach of the
  pterals edges ever closer to
  the rest of the civilized
  world.
  Mirdar Forest: Last of the
  great forests, the Mirdar is home
  to many sylvan-born creatures
  that cannot be found anywhere
  else in the North. Intelligent
  lynx, owls, and hounds all roam
  the woods, keeping watch for
  their fae allies. Despite the strong
  presence of good creatures, the
  dangers of the Mirdar should not
  be overlooked. Since the fall of
  Arovarel, fell creatures have
  been sighted with increasing fre-
  quency, along with wicked treas-
  ure hunters seeking to despoil the
  ruins of the elven capital. 
  Mosswood:
  Mist-shrouded
  Mosswood is home to a number
  of standing stones, which are
  believed to have been construct-
  ed by the Druid Kings of old. The
  significance of the stones—and
  the undecipherable, glowing
  runes that decorate their surfaces—has yet to be deter-
  mined. The locals promote any number of theories, rang-
  ing from the stone circles serving as portals to other
  worlds, sacrificial sites keyed to elder gods, or foci
  designed to channel a vast network of world-spanning
  energies. 
  Myrwych Forest: The dark, misty glades of the
  Myrwych are haunted by wicked magic and tormented
  aberrations. Horrors of Zamon stalk the forest trails in
  search of prey, while summoned demons and devils
  watch over corrupted glades that were once home to the
  sylvan folk. The elves that remain in the Myrwych have
  been forced to adopt some of the characteristics of their
  enemies; those visiting the
  forest report that the tribes
  of elves are a grim, melan-
  cholic folk, reduced to sav-
  agery in their fight for sur-
  vival. 
  Oldarch Forest: Inhabited
  by a handful of loosely
  organized elf tribes and
  their sylvan allies, the
  Oldarch is also home to a
  temple hidden far from pry-
  ing eyes. Guarded by elf
  paladins sworn to the
  Theocracy, 
  the 
  forest-
  bound temple houses secret
  texts and lore of the Lance.
  The temple is visited most
  92
  
  often by scribes and librarians
  researching specific questions,
  but on occasion even his Holiness
  of the Lance has been witnessed
  riding into the shaded wood …
  with an army of devoted body-
  guards at his side.
  Stagwood: Standing on the bor-
  derlands between Thire and
  Crieste, Stagwood is no less dan-
  gerous for the regular patrols of
  Thirian wardens that watch over
  its trials and glades. The wardens
  of Thire are a good if rustic folk,
  welcoming to strangers and quick
  to defend their beloved home-
  land. While the wardens can
  watch over the eastern wood, the
  western forest is held in the cruel
  grasp of monstrous humanoids. 
  Thornswild Wood: Found in the
  northernmost reaches of Thire,
  Thornswild Wood was once a place of great druidic
  power. In recent decades, though, the Thornswild has
  fallen upon ill times. The wicked vines that give the
  woods their name crawl about at will, hooking unfortu-
  nate creatures and feeding upon their blood. It is rumored
  that a site of great power remains somewhere within the
  woods, but few are willing to dare the narrow, thorn-lined
  trails. In the very center of the wood rises a great stone
  spire, atop which lies the abandoned ruins of an ancient
  keep.
  Wailingwood: Infested by brigands and rogues, the
  Wailingwood is a haven for outlaws fleeing the Free
  Cities of Leherti. Merchants passing within sight of the
  foul place travel with a full complement of warriors,
  mages, and priests. Of late, rumors have filtered down to
  the coast telling of brigands pretending to be mercenary
  companies and hiring themselves out as guards for those
  making the trek north.
  Warder Wood: Despite its location in central Crieste,
  Warder Wood conceals an unusually high number of orcs
  and goblinoids. Attempts to root out the monsters
  inevitably end in tragedy at the foot of the five temple-
  fortresses secreted in the heart of the woods. 
  Wilds, the: The forests known as the Wilds are situated
  south of the Halls of the Mountain King and north of the
  river Saedre. These dense and forbidding forests are uni-
  versally feared and respected. Human and goblinoid sav-
  ages alike lay claim to the dark woods, attacking those
  foolish enough to enter their realm. Legends whisper of
  forgotten dwarf vaults hidden beneath the forest floor. 
  Wintermere Forest: Blasted by
  incessant ice storms and bliz-
  zards, the Wintermere is encased
  in a frozen tomb for all but two
  months of the year. During these
  brief days of respite, the trees
  shed their coats of ice, and the
  forest comes alive with both
  predators and prey. A hardy breed
  of pale-skinned savages are
  believed to make their home in
  the woods, dressing in furs and
  worshipping elder dire beasts
  with 
  totems 
  carved 
  from
  Ashwood trees, towering stones,
  and the ever-present ice. The
  Wintermere Forest is found on
  the 
  western 
  banks 
  of 
  the
  Hoarfrost, north and east of the
  fetid Wastes of Zamon.
  Witch Wood: Also known as the
  Bane of Morcaut, the Witch
  Wood is shunned by all. The woods appear no different
  than any other mundane woodland, but it is well docu-
  mented that anyone who enters the wood vanishes, only
  to reappear in other woods, sometimes thousands of
  miles away. Given the danger of most woodlands, it is
  not surprising that few of these wayward travelers are
  ever heard from again.
  Swamps, Fens, and Moors 
  Black Fens: Heated by searing hot springs, and frozen
  by the ice storms of the Hoarfrost, the Black Fens are
  perpetually shrouded in dense mists that stink of sulfur
  and hellfire. Ice grows where the hot springs wane,
  blackened by the sooty mineral discharge that gives the
  fens their name. Explorers crashing through the fragile
  crusts of ice are often surprised by the scorching heat of
  the springs, and those trapped in the boiling mud quickly
  cook to death.
  The fens are inhabited by trolls of every sort, including a
  rare sorcerous breed that delights in enslaving weaker
  creatures. Both ice- and fire-loving beasts can be found
  in equal abundance; similarly, creatures that shun the
  light of day find a welcome respite in the mist-shrouded
  swamp. A small enclave of drow make their home in the
  center of the swamp, defended by crude stone walls and
  a fortress of raised mud and magicked stone.
  Chiauhtli: A tributary of the Quetli River splinters into
  the wide Chiauhtli delta, a large and notoriously unpleas-
  ant bog to most explorers, but a wondrous ecology of ani-
  mal and plant life. Nomadic tribes of lizardfolk dwell in
  93
  
  the marshlands, driving
  away intruders and killing
  only repeat offenders. The
  drakon 
  of 
  neighboring
  Ssorlang have attempted
  many times to subjugate
  these tribes as they have
  countless 
  times 
  before
  them, but the Chiauhtli
  lizardfolk have countered
  every invasion with gueril-
  la tactics impressive for so
  primitive 
  a 
  people.
  Explorers from the city-
  state of Maras have report-
  ed a camarilla of powerful
  lizardfolk druids who use
  the land itself to stave off the drakon scouts that precede
  each would-be invasion.
  Gloom Marshes of Tashgar, the: Lying due east of the
  Valley of Xyr Muthal, these forbidding marshlands are
  constantly shrouded in thick gray mist. Zombies and
  skeletons wander aimlessly through the outskirts of these
  marshes, attacking travelers along the few roads that
  come near this dangerous place. 
  The Gloom Marshes are also home to many vile reptilian
  creatures, including large tribes of lizardfolk. These
  lizardfolk make occasional raiding forays to the north,
  but for the most part keep to themselves.
  Great Swamp, the: Straddling the border between the
  nations of Crieste and Thire, the Great Swamp is claimed
  by none. A fetid, dismal place, the thick mists and watery
  bogs of the Great Swamp conceal secrets dating back to
  man’s first attempts at civilization. Most of the ruins
  from this time sank below the waters centuries ago, but a
  few crude temples and towers still stand, clinging to ages
  long past. Lizardfolk and their kin can be found within
  the swamp, inhabiting the old ruins and adopting their
  savage customs.    
  Saltwitch Swamp: The low-lying basin of the Saltwitch
  floods annually when the tides of the Lirean are at their
  highest. When the tides recede, they leave a salty crust
  covering stunted trees and rocks alike. The remainder of
  the year, the swamp is a hot, muddy salt flat, devoid of
  fresh water or shelter. 
  Aberrations, freed from the salt flats during the wet sea-
  son, rage across the Saltwitch stalking prey captured in
  the muddy tides. Those caught outside their lairs when
  the flats harden quickly descend into a madness; driven
  by hunger and the harsh conditions of the Saltwitch, they
  venture into the nearby Barrows or lurk along trade
  routes established by merchants crossing the flats.
  Xocoatic Marshes:
  As
  explorers step off the foot
  of the Anduran Mountains,
  they find themselves in an
  unpleasant, humid bog.
  Travel is slow in this suck-
  ing mud and insect-ridden
  quagmire, but far prefer-
  able to the open fens to the
  west that comprise the
  Xocoatic Marshes. The air
  is filled with acrid fumes,
  and it is clear to rangers and
  druids that these are not
  natural swamp gasses but
  something more sinister
  and likely magical in ori-
  gin. Worse, hidden rents in the endless mud have been
  known to spew caustic, flesh-searing liquids. Rumors of
  black dragons dwelling in the corrosive marshland are
  sufficient to discourage exploration of this foul region. 
  Wastelands
  Achsfel Wastes: Located on the southeastern coast of the
  Lirean Sea, these blighted lands were once fertile plains.
  Few creatures live here, and fewer plants thrive. All are
  considered unclean to eat. The area is regularly scoured
  by an acid rain that burns flesh and metal but leaves stone
  intact. No sages today know the reason for the ancient
  transformation; however, the rare travelers have report-
  edly seen a mysterious palace in the Wastes from afar, but
  none have dared to investigate.
  Blackfield: The Blackfield—or Capotzitlalli, as it is
  known in the Xulmec tongue—is a patch of desolate,
  blackened land roughly three miles in diameter. Named
  for the sooty consistency of its cursed soil, it was the site
  of a prominent battle when the Criestine colonists fought
  against the drakon in the early years of their settlement.
  The battle was a pyrrhic victory for the colonists, for as
  it progressed, the ground and sky darkened and the slain
  from both sides seemed to blacken and reanimate, drag-
  ging down their former companions in a terrible slaugh-
  ter. Whether invoked by some magic by one of the armies
  or the manifestation of an unnatural phenomenon from
  the land itself, the Blackfield was born that day.
  The Blackfield is a tract of coal-colored soil, littered spo-
  radically with human and drakon bones bleached bright
  white. The remains of other unfortunates who have ven-
  tured onto the field have sunken into the ground, giving
  rise to the belief that ghouls, shadows, or worse dwell
  beneath the earth. Even on a bright sunny day, those
  standing within see the sky in coppery hues, and even
  bereft of trees, the land seems cast in permanent shade. 
  94
  
  The Blackfield is a lure for curi-
  ous wizards, but is universally
  shunned by the Xulmec people.
  While difficult to confirm, a few
  repeat visitors have raised suspi-
  cion that the field is “drifting” in
  the direction of Ft. Ferrau.
  Reportedly it has only moved a
  few yards since the phenomenon
  was first noted, but where per-
  fectly healthy ground once lay to
  the north, the blight seems to
  have encroached. Meanwhile,
  along its southern rim, the land
  seems to be “healing.” A group
  of local druids, considered
  obsessed with the Blackfield and
  more than a little mad, have even
  suggested that the field’s move-
  ment is accelerating.
  Burned Lands, the: In addition
  to cracking the world and creat-
  ing the Devil’s Cauldron, the falling of the Shadow Star
  also created a vast wasteland that straddles the eastern
  regions of the Vermilion Steppes and the Ghetrian
  Desert. Such was the heat that spewed forth from the
  falling Shadow Star that the ground below was complete-
  ly incinerated, leaving a wide path of scorched earth in its
  wake. Since that fateful day, the Burned Lands created by
  this event have remained fallow and barren, and black
  smoke still billows from the charred ground.
  Although the Burned Lands themselves have remained
  lifeless, they have still managed to become a haven of
  nefarious activity. Drow raiders emerge occasionally
  from this area, as they battle with the Vermilion Tribes
  when they get too close to this region. Additionally, large
  numbers of bugbear hordes have been spotted making the
  arduous trek into the heart of the Burned Lands. 
  The Burned Lands are also home to the mysterious Silver
  Citadel of Niraz.
  Devil’s Cauldron, the: Since the beginning of time, the
  comet known as the Shadow Star had been a fixture in
  the evening sky. Even the most ancient dragon lore
  speaks of this peculiar fireball, which blazed past the
  moon and stars once every ten years, setting the night sky
  ablaze with sinister purple light. The visits from the
  Shadow Star ended, however, when the glorious comet
  fell to earth almost twenty centuries ago. Although how
  the comet arrived is somewhat disputed—according to
  the lore of the Vermilion Tribes, the Shadow Star floated
  to the ground like a feather, rather than crashing violent-
  ly as assumed by most sages—none can argue the result
  of this arrival. After the comet left a giant scar across the
  north, the eastern expanses of the
  Vermilion Steppes were blown
  apart, leaving a large, smoldering
  crater over three miles in diame-
  ter and reaching down even fur-
  ther into the depths of the earth.
  Scorching purple smoke still bil-
  lows forth from the crater as
  powerfully as the day the comet
  first fell to earth, giving the
  crater its more commonly known
  name.
  The Devil’s Cauldron is a dan-
  gerous place. Prolonged expo-
  sure to the foul purple smoke
  causes the flesh to burn and scar
  horribly, and those who breathe
  the vapors too long invariably go
  mad. Additionally, the area is
  patrolled heavily by drow and
  derro raiders, who climb up the
  narrow paths from the bottom of
  the crater and attack those who wander too close to their
  homelands. The Cauldron is a place best left alone,
  unless one should desire to travel down into the World
  Below.
  Frost Barrens: The sweep of icy tundra and stunted
  pines known as the Frost Barrens is a place without
  mercy or pity. Those venturing onto the Barrens forgo the
  assumptions of civilization, giving themselves over to the
  savage rule of the wild. Remorhazes, white dragons, and
  frost worms are the masters of the tundra, and all others
  simply struggle to survive in their shadow. The frozen
  remnants of failed expeditions dot the icy tundra, a testa-
  ment to the brutal, unforgiving nature of the Barrens and
  its denizens. 
  Traders report of encountering fire witches who make
  their hovels in forlorn ice caves and muddy huts. Tales
  speak of the fires maintained by the witches, who claim
  that their wards have burned since the beginning of time.
  Ghetrian Desert, the: The vast stretches of the Ghetrian
  Desert (also called the “Great Desert” by locals of the
  region) encompass nearly all of the northern regions of
  the Lostlands. Once but a fraction of its current size, the
  desert has grown tremendously since the fall of the
  Sphinx Empire, creating a fiery wasteland in what was
  once a tropical paradise. The nalvor of Xa Deshret stub-
  bornly believe that the growth of the desert is a parting
  curse from their departed Sphinx Emperors, and that the
  desert shall retreat and wither once the Sphinx return.
  In additional to the abandoned cities of the Khonsurian
  Empire and the nalvor, the Ghetrian Desert is also home
  95
  
  to wandering tribes of human and halfling merchants.
  These merchants traverse the majority of the Lostlands,
  and perhaps have a better perspective upon the entire
  Lostlands than any of the other creatures that live there.
  Icenwastes: The western wastes are protected from the
  fierce conditions that claim the Frost Barrens, and mon-
  strous humanoids of all breeds roam the tundra. Nearing
  the Hoarfrost, the Icenwastes assume a character akin to
  the Barrens, the tundra changing to snow drifts, ice
  ledges, and then entire glaciers. The eastern Icenwastes
  rival the Frost Barrens for their ferocity and bleak deso-
  lation. The largest of the world’s white dragons is
  believed to make its home atop a glacier in the eastern
  reaches of the Icenwastes. 
  Plains of Fire: If one looks westward from a vantage in
  the Anduran Mountains, a vast and perpetual cloud of
  mist obscures the horizon, dominating earth and sky
  beyond the Xocoatic Marshes. The Xulmec people call
  the land within the mist Ixtlatla, the Plains of Fire, and do
  not venture there. Their priests say that the Plains are not
  meant to be crossed, serving as the supernatural barrier
  between the Known Realms and the Shadowed West.
  In truth, the endless miles of mist are sempiternal clouds of
  steam, roiling up from the geysers of boiling water that
  blister the plains for hundreds of miles. What natural or
  unnatural geology generates such heated water so continu-
  ously none can say and few can observe. Within the Plains
  of Fire, the first few miles are uncomfortable, quickly giv-
  ing away to scalding clouds and killing steam. Only crea-
  tures inured or immune to such heat can venture further
  west. Reports from adventurers magically equipped for the
  extreme temperatures speak of seeing salamanders, mephi-
  tis, and even elemental creatures of fire.
  Sands of Shanbilai, the: This southernmost desert of the
  Lostlands forms the main barrier between Morena Nova
  and the rest of its hostile neighbors in the region.
  Somewhere deep in the heart of the desert is a gateway to
  a dark dimension. Through this gateway, fiends and other
  infernal beings wander into the Sands of Shanbilai,
  slaughtering all that they encounter. For this reason, the
  roads that criss-cross the desert have been abandoned for
  many years—even the Morenan armies are terrified to
  patrol them. It is a region best left alone by travelers. The
  only area of solace known in this fiery desert is the Oases
  of Sheshat-Semet, which can be found near the center of
  this region.
  Wall of Ablyos, the: Also known as the Gorge of
  Saramanthia, the Storm Chasm, and Giants’ Folly, the
  Abylos Wall is actually a canyon of mythic proportions,
  rising a full mile from floor to rim. During the dark years
  of the War of Divine Right, with armies of giants and
  their kin threatening from the south and east, the Abylos
  Empire summoned together the mightiest of the Druid
  Kings, elven wizards, and entire legions of slaves. Over
  the course of a single year, the united forces enlarged a
  river valley into a mighty canyon unlike any other, build-
  ing ramparts and battlements along its western rim, and
  created siege weapons on a scale never witnessed since. 
  The armies of the giants arrived confident in their might,
  having easily conquered all other challengers. The giants
  poured into the canyon and swarmed up the far side, only
  to be met by the focused might of the Abylos Empire.
  Legions of archers rained arrows down into the rushing
  hordes, soul mages slew slaves by the thousands to call
  down storms of fire from the heavens, and spearmen and
  swordmaidens fought the few invaders that climbed their
  way to the rim of the canyon, casting the corpses down
  upon their fellows. 
  The defense was entirely too successful, funneling the
  trapped giants south and west toward Foresthome, where
  the giants raged, destroying the surrounding lands and
  setting the stage for the destruction of Lirea.
  Today, ancient ruins can still be found on the western
  rim. Few creatures are foolish enough to venture to the
  chasm floor, where the ghosts and specters of slain giant-
  kin wander uncontested.
  Wastes of Zamon: The dark moors and high ridges were
  synonymous with wickedness long before the sorcerer-
  exile Zamon raised his demon-born tower. Like a people
  hungry for a king, the wastes have flourished beneath
  Zamon and his ilk, spreading their foul corruption south
  and east with each passing year. Now over one hundred
  evil sorcerers, necromancers, and black witches and war-
  locks make their home in the wastes. 
  Wicked beasts, both summoned and created, roam the
  Wastes, searching for prey and performing missions for
  their demented masters. Few, if any, of the Wastes’ orig-
  inal fauna can be found. Every tree and flower, every
  mammal, bird, and insect has been twisted from its orig-
  inal form. Insane treants and corrupted nature spirits are
  especially dangerous, refusing to even recognize the wiz-
  ards that call the Wastes their home.
  Ruins, Dungeons, and
  Antediluvian Curiosities
  It would be impossible to list all the ruins of the Known
  Realms; several tomes could be devoted to the
  Northlands alone, and fresh ruins are being uncovered
  each year. The following is a partial list of the ruins most
  often cited by bards and minstrels. Adventurers and treas-
  ure seekers should beware: The notes collected herein are
  incomplete at best, and misleading at worst.
  96
  
  Amonzadd and Ahna-Vithyre: Few legends can com-
  pare to the two great nations that were swallowed by the
  Lirean Sea during the War of Divine Right. Amonzadd,
  the ancestral citadel of the dwarves, and Ahna-Vithyre,
  the Foresthome of elven lore, were both consumed when
  the subcontinent of Lirea sank below the waves. While
  few contend that anyone (or anything) could have sur-
  vived the cataclysm that swallowed the two great cities,
  rumors persist of elven archmages sleeping away the
  ages in their sealed vaults, and of dwarf-lich regents rul-
  ing lost forges hidden beneath the ocean’s floor. The fires
  of rumor are rekindled whenever a shallow water diver
  returns with a few coins minted of an unknown metal, or
  the body of a grizzled dwarf lord, armored in ancient
  fashion, washes ashore. 
  Ayoxatlan: With its dark, pitted towers clawing the sky
  and its massive girders jutting out over the Athuan shore-
  line, the ruins of Ayoxatlan are still an impressive sight.
  If the old legends are true, the lofty structure once served
  as the gate and abutment for a bridge of titanic propor-
  tions that reached across the Surya Sea itself to the
  Lostlands. Casual observance of the expansive sea makes
  this possibility difficult to believe, but the impeccable
  architecture and monumental size of the structure gives
  the beholder pause. Stories told by Xulmec priests sug-
  gest that the gods once favored the great empire of
  Zimala, approving the nagas’ desire to reach across the
  sea to foreign lands.
  Even if this is true—and that a causeway once spanned
  the many miles to the Lostlands—then the gods have
  since withdrawn their favor. The stories even say that
  islands once supported the bridge’s columns, but they are
  nowhere now to be seen. The only evidence is the island
  at the center of the Surya and the corresponding ruin on
  the far side.
  Ayoxatlan is a perilous ruin now. The anchorage alone is
  a multi-leveled structure, a monolith of cratered stone
  that has become the lair of monsters. The abutment and
  towers, scarred by millennia, comprising a labyrinth of
  passages and guard chambers, hold dangers of their
  own—creatures who require no contact with civilization
  or wish to hide their deeds. Where the towers sink into
  the jagged shoreline, sea monsters have gathered and
  proclaimed a dominion of their own. The levels beneath
  the waves are nigh inaccessible.
  Castle of the Crow: Home to the Crow Queen, a witch
  of exceeding power and wickedness, the Castle was a
  mighty citadel built high atop the southern Ul Dominor
  mountains. The Crow Queen demanded a tribute from all
  the traders crossing the pass beneath her citadel, accept-
  ing gold but preferring souls. When a party of Crieste’s
  most powerful heroes launched a surprise raid on the
  citadel, slaying the Crow Queen and laying waste to her
  army, it was assumed that the world was now rid of her
  evil. That night, as the party rested on the pass below, the
  citadel broke free of the mountain and rose into the
  moonlit night.
  The Castle of the Crow has been sighted hundreds of
  times since, often presaging a terrible tragedy or natural
  disaster, with hundreds of crows circling its high towers.
  Catacombs of Nos Caen: Discovered beneath the foun-
  dations of Halsgate Castle, the extent of the catacombs is
  unknown. Preliminary expeditions have revealed that the
  crudely carved catacombs belong to a sort of undercity.
  Sages doubt that the savages of Nos Caen could have
  built such an extensive complex, but few offer theories
  about who—or what—might have done so.
  Coatopolan:
  Sometimes called the Snake Ruin,
  Coatopolan was once a city built on the edge of the
  Zimalan Empire, the nagas’ sole outpost at the northern
  edge of their empire. Hidden at the heart of the Xulmec
  peninsula, the ruin has been largely reclaimed by the land
  and now serves as the home of many animals and unnat-
  ural creatures. The one exception are the Miztlani, an
  order of paladins who have claimed the western edge of
  the ruin as their own. It is the site of the holy tomb of the
  heroine Cihuamiztli and the lammasu champion Naram-
  sin (see Miztlani, Chapter 5). Though the ruins of
  Coatopolan hide many dangers, much exotic flora thrives
  here as well. Of greatest note are the miztli vines, hearty
  aerophytes indigenous to the ruin that bear tiny golden
  blossoms said to resemble a feline face. 
  Cohuatlizon: Cohuatlizon was a ruin even during the
  rise of the Zimalan Empire. Situated at the heart of the
  forested Serpent Isle, Cohuatlizon was once a city of dra-
  conic origin, but it has been long since plundered of its
  greatest secrets. The only treasures to be found here now
  are in the lairs of those monsters bold enough to take up
  residence within. 
  Cohuatlizon’s greatest danger—and greatest appeal—is
  the Serpent Oracle, a legendary medusa of prophetic
  powers who dwells within a shattered temple at the city’s
  heart. She offers frighteningly accurate visions of the
  future to those who can find her—and those of whom she
  approves. Those who sought to exploit her powers of pre-
  science are now permanently displayed in a vast gallery
  of statues. If reports are true, no fewer than a thousand
  figures of lifelike stone adorn the city’s central prome-
  nade. A gang of stone giants is said to guard the Serpent
  Oracle, and will smash her greatest offenders into rubble
  once they’ve been rendered in stone.
  Crypt of Kothean: The lords of Kothea once ruled an
  empire that united much of the western Northlands.
  Seven generations of lords were buried in a secret tomb
  hidden somewhere in the heart of the Myrwych forest,
  97
  
  along with the bodies of their devoted servants and atten-
  dants. Rumor holds that the extensive crypt also contains
  portals that reach across the face of the North, allowing
  quick movement of armies in times of great need. 
  Fane of Elder Gods: Bards speak of a blasphemous
  palace-temple hidden somewhere atop the Ul Dominor
  mountains. This windswept, snow-laden ruin is said to be
  the home of a race of giants originally destined to rule the
  lesser races. These stories also tell of a stone palace built
  to an enormous, giant-sized scale. While none can speak
  to the fate of the giants, their temples-fires still burn,
  offering praise to weird shapes and deities foreign to the
  known world.
  Floating Island of Orskenia, the: Moving throughout
  the Empyrean Ocean like a relentless predator, the
  Floating Island of Orskenia is more of a sailor’s tale than
  an ominous terror. The circular island, which by all
  accounts is a volcanic monstrosity measuring some twen-
  ty miles in diameter, appears in a cloud of greenish-gray
  mist once every sixty years. The island never appears in
  the same location twice, although it usually materializes
  within a few days’ sail from the coastlines of the
  Lostlands. Once it arrives, the island may remain in the
  Empyrean Ocean anywhere between a week to a year,
  drifting slowly through the murky waters without rhyme
  or reason, and moving just a few leagues each day. All
  ships that pass near the Floating Island disappear or are
  wrecked within days of sighting the mysterious place. 
  No one knows what actually lives on the island, if any-
  thing at all. Many sailors and pirates strongly believe that
  Orskenia is some sort of purgatory for those that drown
  at sea, and that the island crawls with undead creatures.
  Still others believe that the island is a haven for the
  sphinx that left the Khonsurian Empire centuries ago.
  Whatever the origin of the Floating Island, it is a place
  believed to best be avoided at all costs.
  Huetzetoc: Meaning “he lies fallen” in the Xulmec
  tongue, Huetzetoc is the half-buried remains of the obsid-
  ian idol of Huamec, the savior and first god of the
  Xulmecs. During the War of Divine Right, when
  giantkind united against the smaller races of the known
  world, the people of Xulmec faced certain destruction
  from the armies of storm and fire giants who assailed
  them. It was Huamec who answered their prayers,
  instructing his priests to build a colossal statue of obsid-
  ian into which the god fused his own spirit. The might of
  his avatar turned the tide for the Xulmec people, but in
  the struggle Huamec himself was slain. 
  Centuries later, what remains of that great idol now lies
  shattered and inert. Only parts of the statue’s three–hun-
  dred-foot frame remain intact. The head is set apart, jut-
  ting diagonally from the soil. All Xulmecs consider
  Huetzetoc hallowed ground, and the city-states often take
  turns sending patrols to watch over it. 
  Lost Mines of Avjitar: In the desert mountains south and
  west of Punjar, there exists a series of mines that follow
  a rich vein of pure adamantine. The location of the mines
  was a carefully guarded secret, and a citadel was built
  atop the mines to protect against raiders and foreign
  armies. Avjitar prospered for many years, sending a
  steady stream of adamantine north to Crieste, only to be
  buried by a magical sandstorm that swept up from the
  Great Desert, burying the city and obliterating all traces
  of its inhabitants. The source of the sandstorm, and the
  location of the mines, have been lost to the ages; maps to
  Avjitar are a popular item in Punjar, found in the stall of
  any dealer in antiquities, although their authenticity is
  dubious at best. 
  Maw of Mictlan, the: The terminus of the Mochitla
  River—or merely its threshold—the Maw of Mictlan is
  the entrance to the Land of the Dead according to
  Xulmec belief. Virtually inaccessible on all sides, the
  great chasm into which the river drops in a waterfall
  spanning hundreds of feet can only be viewed in one of
  two ways. The first is from the Lamasery of the Dead, an
  ancient building that resembles a sepulcher more than the
  monastery it is. Overlooking the Maw from a high
  precipice, it offers visiting pilgrims the only safe vantage
  of the impressive plunge. The second means of accessing
  the Maw is from the river itself, a course as certain as it
  is deadly. If the water merely drops into an abyss deep in
  the earth, then the fall alone is sure to kill. If the water of
  the saltwater river truly passes into the realm of the dead,
  one’s safety cannot be assured.
  Oubliette of Tybor the Mad: When the great magician
  Tybor, Elder Seer to the Emperor of Abylos, predicted the
  rise of the giants prior to the War of Divine Right, he was
  ridiculed as a fool and chased from the royal court by
  children armed with stones and rotten vegetables.
  98
  
  99
  Consumed by madness and anger, Tybor built an
  inescapable dungeon-maze, warded with powerful mag-
  ics and watched over by a contingent of summoned
  demons. On the eve of the war, Tybor stole into the
  palace, kidnapped his king, and delivered the regent into
  the heart of the maze. 
  Legend holds that the demons were tasked with keeping
  the errant king alive to wander the maze until the end of
  ages. Whether such a feat is possible, and if it is true that
  the regent still carries his crown and scepter of office (the
  powerful relics vanished the same night as the regent) are
  questions that seem destined to remain unanswered. 
  Thora-Ulimet: Legends tell of a great city of dark elves
  founded in the years following the Eldritch Coalition. A
  city of merchants and Underdeep traders, the drow of
  Thora-Ulimet were reputed to have dealt extensively
  with wicked humans, dwarves, and the intelligent mon-
  strous humanoids. The city was laid low by a flight of sil-
  ver dragons and an elf paladin bent on avenging her fall-
  en brethren. Legends allege that the ruined city still deals
  with the surface races, and place the lost city somewhere
  in the Ul Dominor mountains.
  Silver Citadel of Niraz, the: Sitting in the center of the
  cracked and blackened Burned Lands is a mighty
  fortress, with gleaming silver walls over one hundred feet
  tall, and golden towers that seem to touch the sky.
  Although the size of the fortress suggests that it was built
  for titans or giants, the Citadel was built sometime after
  the fall of the Shadow Star. According to the folklore of
  the Vermilion Tribes, the silver fortress arose from the
  ashes of the Burned Lands in a single moonless night
  In recent years, much activity has been spotted surround-
  ing the Silver Citadel. Flickering lights burn faintly in the
  towers of this fortress, which has seemed dormant for
  many generations. Additionally, the silhouettes of dragon
  wings have beeen spotted flying in and out of its gates.
  Whatever secrets that lurk inside the Silver Citadel of
  Niraz seem ready to burst forth from this odd place, and
  to spread across the Lostlands like wildfire.…
  Standing Stones of the Druid Kings: When scholars of
  the North seek out evidence of the past, they need to look
  no further than the Standing Stones. Scattered across the
  North, and found in nearly every region, the circles of
  stones and monoliths were raised according to the will of
  the Druid Kings. 
  Some, like those found in Mosswood, bear glowing runes
  etched deep into their faces. Others are as smooth as pol-
  ished glass and crackle with untapped energies. Others
  keen aloud when approached by orcs and half-orcs, and
  still others heal any who approach them. The purpose of
  the stones, and the reasons for raising them across the
  face of Áereth, are lost to antiquity.
  Well of Worlds: Found deep within the bowers of the
  Anseur forest, the Well of Worlds is a forty-foot-wide pit,
  lined with rough stones, whose depth is unknown. The
  stones all bear powerful runes and sigils, thwarting all
  attempts to discern the nature of the magic at work in the
  Well. The elves of the Anseur report that every full moon
  the Well is lit up from below. During the time, according
  to legend, it is possible to use the Well to travel to other
  times and places. Unfortunately, no one has ever returned
  from such a journey to verify this.
  
  100
  W
  hile nations are the principle face of Áerethian
  politics, numerous cabals, secret societies,
  cults, and brotherhoods work their agendas
  across borders and beneath the noses of unsuspecting
  regents. Some of these organizations labor in the defense
  of good, but many, many more are sworn to evil ends.
  In the history of the Northlands, as many regents have
  met their death at the end of a poisoned dagger as on the
  field of battle. Those who deal with secret societies know
  it is not enough to be guarded by a high city wall and
  defended by an army of loyal men-at-arms. For when
  shadow wars rage across the face of Áereth, any man,
  woman, or child could be the agent of the enemy, and no
  one—archmage, bishop, general, or regent—is safe.
  In many lands, clandestine societies are simply a way of
  life. It is understood that deception is the first rule of
  diplomacy, and a knife in the back is simply a way of
  conducting business. Success—whether with sword, or
  spell, or coin—can only be obtained through strategy and
  some luck. Much as in a chess game, moves and counter-
  moves must be plotted well in advance of their execution.
  Knowing the secret organizations of a land provides
  advantages toward ultimate triumph in the region, and
  joining their ranks may offer even more.
  The Arcanum Infernal
  T
  his infamous school of magic in Gorhgijesk teach-
  es necromancy and other sinister arts. Run by a
  small council of drow wizards known only as the
  Enclave, this institution of darkest wizardry seeks to pre-
  serve the evil knowledge outlawed and banned through-
  out the rest of Áereth, to teach that knowledge to those
  daring enough to seek it, and to create new kinds of
  magic. Despite the malevolent atmosphere that perme-
  ates the Arcanum, its students and teachers rarely view
  themselves or their work as evil—instead, they see them-
  selves as pioneers, daring to push the boundaries of sor-
  cery and science far past the timid borders of the outside
  world. At any given time, there are a dozen or so masters
  and nearly two hundred students living within the walls
  of the Arcanum. Students are marked with tattoos of
  dragons on their forearms; should they ever be deemed
  worthy of becoming a master, ornate designs of magical
  fire are added to the original tattoo.
  Those acolytes who travel to the Arcanum Infernal, and
  seek to gain the forbidden knowledge within its walls,
  must first pass a series of trials in order to become a
  novice student. While the exact number and order of
  these trials remain secret, it is known that some test mag-
  ical ability, while others strive to push the limits of the
  mind. Few actually pass all the tests and gain admittance
  to the Arcanum Infernal; the walls of the sinister institu-
  tion are surrounded by the rotting corpses of failed stu-
  dents. Lunatics spouting utter nonsense also sit by the
  gates of the Arcanum Infernal, their minds twisted and
  broken by the harrowing trials. 
  In addition to teaching and preserving the darkest magi-
  cal arts, the Arcanum Infernal seeks to create horrific
  new spells and magical devices that defy imagination …
  or sanity. The terrible experiments conducted by the
  institution remain guarded secrets, but rumors abound
  that the latest endeavors of the Arcanum involve dimen-
  sional forays into the foulest planes of existence. Several
  times a year, a sizable shipment of slaves arrives at the
  gates of the Arcanum. Their true purpose inside the evil
  institution remains a mystery, although the screams that
  echo throughout the city following their arrival suggest a
  nefarious intent.
  The Black Watch
  T
  he warriors of the Black Watch are no less dedicat-
  ed or devout than their brother order, Knights of
  the Lance, but are often mistaken for minions of
  the fiends they seek. An order of hunters, the Watchmen
  spend their (often short) lives in pursuit of demons, dev-
  ils, vampires, hags, and any of the other fell monsters that
  prey upon humanity.
  Chapter 5
  Organizations
  
  The average member of the Black Watch is dressed in
  soiled armor, stinks of necromantic laboratories and for-
  gotten libraries, and carries a veritable arsenal of exotic
  weapons. Silent and sullen, most hunters have the gaunt,
  haunted look of wolves, and a blatant disregard for the
  niceties of culture.
  Unlike their brothers, the hunters do not swear to any code
  of honor or the defense of good. Each Black Watchman
  has but a single vow: to do everything in her power to slay
  her chosen prey. While most begin with bright eyes and a
  heart for goodness, years spent watching her friends fall
  to the claws of fiends and suspecting every stranger of
  possession quickly wear away at the soul, until even the
  most idealistic hunter is reduced to bitter cynicism. For a
  hunter, every day brings the threat of brutal violence and
  every night brings its haunted dreams.
  No member of the Black Watch has ever survived long
  enough to step down from the order. The only hunters
  that are called from service are those who have been driv-
  en mad by the horrors they have seen. Surprising to those
  outside the Theocracy, the dark hunters of the Black
  Watch enjoy a special relationship with His Holiness, the
  Bishop of the Shining Lance. The reason for this is sim-
  ple: The warriors of the Watch are the souls with the
  greatest need of absolution.
  For obvious reasons, membership in the Black Watch
  demands absolute secrecy. If the order has a headquarters
  or a leader, they have been well concealed.
  Brotherhood of the
  Silver Raven
  A
  loose organization of bards, storytellers, and
  good-natured rogues, the Brotherhood of the
  Silver Raven works as a network of information
  throughout the Lostlands, disseminating news, rumors,
  and innuendo throughout the region with remarkable
  speed. It also serves as a support system for adventurers
  who find themselves in dire straits, far from home and
  without allies. With thousands of Brothers scattered
  throughout the Lostlands and the rest of Áereth, a mem-
  ber of the Brotherhood can always find a friend willing to
  help. 
  It is not believed that there is any formal structure to this
  enigmatic group, nor does it have any true leaders; all
  that is really known of the Brotherhood of the Silver
  Raven is that it began some fifty-odd years ago in the
  traveling Bazaar of Quaysarria. Membership in the
  organization is quite simple—a Brother who wishes to
  induct another person into the Society merely has to give
  that person a silver medallion. That medallion, which
  features the insignia of a raven with spread wings, is the
  mark of association with the Brotherhood. Those who
  become part of this informal society always wear this
  medallion in a visible—but not always conspicuous—
  manner. There is one simple rule of the Brotherhood of
  the Silver Raven: “Help your Brothers who need help,
  and expect the same in your hour of need.” The rule gen-
  erally works, though those few who fail to abide by it
  usually find their medallions missing or stolen in short
  order.
  The other main aim of the Brotherhood of the Silver
  Raven is to pool information wherever possible. For this
  reason, sages and scholars are often members of this
  informal fraternity, and provide support to other mem-
  bers whenever possible. There are few rumors in the
  Lostlands unknown to a member of the Brotherhood.
  Poorer members of the Brotherhood with a sharp ear and
  a good memory can always find a copper coin or two at
  a sages’ guild.
  Brood of Ahzari
  T
  he Brood of Ahzari is an old order of drakon
  assassins feared above all others west of the
  Empyrean Ocean. Operating out of the Moryan
  Temple in Myashtlan, the Brood is frequently employed
  by the Emerald Throne, yet it keeps to its own mystic
  code entirely outside of Ssorlang law. The Brood hires its
  services to anyone in the Known Realms willing to meet
  101
  
  its steep fees. For this reason, small cells of the Brood
  can be found in every metropolis in the Northlands, pro-
  vided one knows where to look or with whom to inquire.
  The Brood of Ahzari is comprised only of brightvenom
  drakon. Whether this racial limitation stems from the
  order’s founder or is merely pragmatism for the trade, the
  tradition is unswerving now. With their ability to trans-
  figure themselves, the assassins can move through
  human societies with little scrutiny, using magic and leg-
  erdemain to further conceal their heritage. Like any
  accomplished guild of killers, little is publicly known
  about the Brood of Ahzari. Some believe they are affili-
  ated with the secret clergy of the Hidden Lord, while oth-
  ers speculate a connection to Axaluatl, the Shadow
  Serpent of old Zimala. While there is no uniform appear-
  ance among them, Brood assassins can be identified with
  their signature weapon: the keris blade, usually enchant-
  ed or dipped in potent snake venom.
  Mystery enshrouds the Brood’s founder, an ancient black
  wyrm known as Ahzari. Some legends say that he was
  once a darkvenom wizard who permanently transformed
  himself into a dragon, while others claim he was a pariah
  among dragonkind. What is known is that Ahzari disap-
  peared from history for centuries somewhere in the
  Shadowed West, returning at last to Ssorlang to found his
  brotherhood of assassins. Rumor suggests that Ahzari’s
  body is interred, either in slumber or in death, somewhere
  beneath the Temple.
  The leaders of the Brood of Ahzari are ten deadly
  monk/assassins who never leave the Moryan Temple.
  They personally defend the monastery and train every
  new recruit. Though only those of brightvenom stock are
  admitted membership to the Brood, the drakon have been
  known to hire freelance assassins from other humanoid
  races to carry out certain jobs—particularly those with
  which the snake men wish to avoid any implication.
  Many lone assassins have grown wealthy partnering with
  the Brood. Just as many have been eliminated as rivals.
  The Moryan Temple itself, named for an esoteric philos-
  ophy to which Ahzari subscribes, is a massive, multifac-
  eted dome filled with expansive halls, marble columns,
  and velvet tapestries.
  Company of the
  Bright Barrow
  T
  his clandestine group of mercenary warriors is
  infamous throughout the Lostlands, inspiring ter-
  ror with the very utterance of their name. The
  name of the Company comes from a ritual that each of its
  soldiers performs before heading out into battle. Each
  warrior digs a shallow grave the morning before battle,
  and then places a lit candle in that grave. A lone soldier
  remains behind to watch over the candles and to keep
  them all burning, until the rest of his brothers return to
  personally extinguish the flames … or to occupy the
  graves. In battle, the Company of the Bright Barrow is
  perhaps best known for its bloodthirsty savagery—they
  never take prisoners, never surrender, and frequently
  send the rotting hearts of their fallen foes back to their
  native soil in black silk packages.
  For the past one hundred and fifty years, the Company of
  the Bright Barrow has been in the exclusive employ of
  the city-state of Achaemia. The ruling rakshasa of
  Achaemia, although fearsome warriors in their own right,
  have no organized militia of their own. Apart for the djin-
  ni and other genies who are allied with the rakshasa, the
  mercenary Company remains the only true defenders of
  the city. It is not entirely clear how the rakshasa compen-
  sate the members of the Company for this role; although
  the mercenary soldiers certainly collect countless gold
  coins for their ruthless service, it is believed that they
  receive other, more powerful gifts as well. Rumor has it
  that the soldiers of the Company have received immortal-
  ity from their rakshasa masters, and cannot die so long as
  they serve the mystical creatures. 
  Most soldiers of the Bright Barrow have never known
  life outside of their infamous ranks. Once per year, the
  Company of the Bright Barrow makes a pilgrimage to the
  slave markets of Djeser al-Maqqara to select ten to twen-
  ty male human children, no older than two years of age.
  These children are bought and raised by the Company,
  and are molded into unemotional killing machines. Upon
  rare occasion, outsiders are permitted to join the ranks of
  the Bright Barrow; however, such exceptions are only
  made for warriors of unparalleled skill.
  Cult of Akfokal Nel 
  C
  oncealed from the mysterious aboleth, this group
  of drow warrior-priests works in great secrecy to
  take control of Gorhgijesk. They make their
  stronghold in a hidden stronghold just outside the city of
  Viomorgyn. The Cult of Akfokal Nel is closely allied
  with the Arcanum Infernal; many of the that evil institu-
  tion’s wizards are also instrumental members of this
  secretive sect.
  Although its members are mostly drow, cells of the cult
  have spread throughout all of Áereth, reaching so far as
  some regions in the Northlands and Southlands. These
  cells always work under the firm command of a drow war
  leader. All members of the cult can be identified by a
  magical brand: a pair of crossed swords. The brand is
  102
  
  only visible through magical means, such as a detect
  magic spell or the like. 
  The goals of the Cult of Akfokal Nel are twofold. Firstly,
  they plot to bring about revolution in Gorhgijesk, wrest-
  ing power away from the aboleth and placing control of
  the nation solely in the hands of the drow. On a grander
  scale the cult eventually aims to bring about the resurrec-
  tion and return of the “First Drow”: Akfokal Nel, a leg-
  endary sorcerer whose power reputedly once rivaled that
  of the gods themselves. They believe that with the rebirth
  of Akfokal Nel, Gorhgijesk will rise into a mighty empire
  that will dominate and enslave the rest of Áereth.
  Although the location of the sorcerer’s tomb has long
  been lost, the cult supposedly possesses ancient texts that
  cryptically speak of its whereabouts. Certain cult leaders
  toil endlessly in the search for their icon, while others
  labor to build a shrine for Akfokal Nel—one that contains
  the necessary devices of alchemy and sorcery to return
  him to the world of the living. 
  Knights of the Lance
  C
  lad in shining suits of plate and chain mail, sword
  and shield at their side, their colorful pennants
  flapping from their lances, the stout Knights of
  the Lance are the very vision of nobility. Most are drawn
  from the ranks of aristocracy, but the order is open to any
  who can achieve its lofty standards, and many of its
  finest knights were once war orphans or paupers.
  Questing far across the land in the name of god and glory,
  the knights are sworn to the tenets of the Theocracy as
  well as the service of good. In addition, each knight takes
  what is known as a silent vow, often either a wrong to be
  avenged or a principle to defend. A knight’s silent vow is
  highly personal and questioned only under the direst of
  circumstances.
  A martial sect of the Holy Theocracy, the order of the
  Lance is composed entirely of paladins and holy war-
  riors. The order was begun when the legendary general
  Cuthair the Crimson gave up her titles and ranks, and
  swore herself to the defense of a humble priest. Since that
  day, thousands of warriors have answered the call to lives
  of sacrifice.
  With their wide-ranging, far-flung goals, the knights are
  rarely summoned together. Once every five years, a
  Grand Assembly is called to order, and knights from
  across the North flock to Brighthawk Castle. Reports of
  the state of Áereth are presented before the order’s offi-
  cers, a month-long tournament is held, and the resulting
  pageantry is wondrous to behold.
  The Knights of the Lance benefit greatly from their ties
  to the Theocracy. Each knight rides forth with ancestral
  arms and armor, often the finest ever crafted by leg-
  endary smiths of Arvale. Similarly, knights can expect
  room and board at any castle or manor across the North.
  In wicked realms, claiming the Right of Asylum often
  presages an attempt on the knight’s life, but even the
  wickedest of sovereigns thinks twice before assassinating
  a knight in his care.
  The Knights of the Lance suffered terrible losses in the
  Fall of Leherti, but this hasn’t diminished their dedica-
  tion. Indeed, it has only increased their fervor, the ranks
  of order clamoring for permission to return to war. Lady
  Aernal, commander of the order, keeps a close watch on
  the Scourge, knowing that the time will come when her
  knights will again ride against its armies—only this time,
  she doesn’t intend to lose. Presently more than four thou-
  sand knights fly Theocracy pennants, with several thou-
  sand more squires and attendants sworn to their service.
  103
  
  Knights of Tenhoku Jigai
  T
  raditional guardians of the Kingdom of Taijin,
  these dwarven warriors have acted as war leaders
  and protectors of the realm for generations. They
  lead the charge in every battle and refuse surrender.
  Battalions of Taijinese soldiers led by a Knight of Tehoku
  Jigai know only two ways for a battle to end: victory or
  death. For a Knight, there is no honor in defeat. 
  The Knights of Tenhoku Jigai—so named for the ancient
  King of Taijin who originally formed their noble order—
  select their ranks from the courts of the kingdom, taking
  those trained from an early age to be skilled with both
  blade and bow. Most Knights of Tenhoku Jigai are either
  traditional warriors or paladins; however, rangers and
  clerics that have proven their worth upon the field of bat-
  tle have been accepted into the order as well. At the pres-
  ent time, the Knights have well over five hundred worthy
  dwarves in their ranks.
  The Knights of Tenhoku Jigai have little patience for cer-
  emony. Save for times of national crisis, they meet but
  once every four years, and then only to briefly discuss
  matters of state and changes in the art of warfare. The
  Knights have a magnificent castle in Raijin Khor called
  the Palace of Toba Meiji, which mostly collects dust from
  inactivity. 
  To join this order of noble warriors, a candidate must first
  serve as a squire to a Knight for a period of three years.
  Should the candidate prove his worth during this time, he
  is sent out on a mission called the Prophet’s Quest. The
  squire studies passages from an ancient text called the
  Ochimo Codex—from those passages, it is believed that
  the candidate will find a purpose and calling of epic
  importance. Then the aspiring Knight sets forth on a long
  and arduous journey … and may not set foot in Raiju
  Khor until the quest is complete. It often takes two or
  three decades to complete the Prophet’s Quest—and
  many times, the hopeful candidate is never seen again.
  Those who are successful and do return are immediately
  inducted into the Knights of Tenhoku Jigai, and receive
  all the honor and prestige that is associated with that
  mantle.
  Miztlani
  T
  he Miztlani (mist-lon-ee) are an order of paladins
  active in the Southlands who have devoted them-
  selves to the virtues of the legendary heroine
  Cihuamiztli, the Golden Lady. Centuries ago,
  Cihuamiztli saved the people of Teotcoatlan and Athua
  from an infestation of undead that threatened to overrun
  eastern Xulmec. Along with her greatest friend, Naram-
  sin, a celestial lammasu of unequaled valor, Cihuamiztli
  martyred herself in the climactic battle against the source
  of the threat: the lich-queen Tecitzin.
  For her sacrifice, a hallowed tomb was erected in the
  ruins of Coatopolan, and Xulmecs from across the penin-
  sula came to visit the Golden Lady. Much to their sur-
  prise, lammasus from far-off lands arrived at the holy site
  to pay their respects to their fallen hero, Naram-sin,
  whose many brave deeds were famous in the Lostlands.
  Some humans and lammasus lingered at the shrine, and
  before ten years had passed, a small order of holy knights
  had formed in honor of Cihuamiztli and Naram-sin.
  The Miztlani—sometimes called Miztli Tepiani, the
  Golden Protectors, or the Knights of Cihuamiztli—live to
  wage war against evil in all its forms and emulate the life
  and combat techniques of both Cihuamiztli and Naram-
  sin. Based out of Coatopolan, the Miztlani welcome all
  Xulmec warriors to the hallowed Tomb of the Golden
  104
  
  Lady, but retain only the purest of heart and spirit. The
  Golden Protectors have strong ties to the churches of
  Calchoti and Ilhuicatl, but the paladins also revere lawful
  divinities whose province lies well beyond Xulmec.
  Accordingly, some of the order’s paladins take their spir-
  itual crusade to foreign lands, adventuring even among
  the Northlands.
  A paladin of the Miztlani wears the quilted armor com-
  mon among Xulmec warriors. Their tlahuiztli is decorat-
  ed to resemble the leonine body of the lammasu, which
  the order reveres above all other creatures. Eagle feathers
  adorn the suit and hardwood helmets are arrayed with
  manes that resemble a lion’s. The Miztlani are frequent-
  ly arrayed with jewelry of polished gold; to them, the
  divine value of gold far outweighs its monetary value.
  Some fashion elaborate wooden shields, called chimalli,
  and many favor the razor glove.
  The Miztlani are directed by the Knights of Gold, seven
  paladins said to embody the values of Cihuamiztli. A
  family of lammasus also dwells in Coatopolan, advising
  the paladins in their endeavors and defending the shrine
  from intruders. The family’s matriarch, a noble lammasu
  named Shatu-murrim, is always consulted by the Knights
  of Gold before any important decisions are made by the
  order.
  Order of the
  Sable March
  R
  espected by the people of Crieste and reviled by
  its barons, the Knights of the Sable March are the
  Emperor’s personal guard, the nation’s foremost
  horsemen and duelists, and implacable defenders of
  good. That their agenda runs counter to the sinister plots
  of Lady Mortianna, Vizier of Crieste, only gives credence
  to the many ballads and legends hailing their bravery and
  valor.
  Officially answering only to the Emperor, the Knights of
  the Sable March are secretly directed by Captain Sentri,
  master of the Criestine Army. Obliged to obey the Vizier’s
  commands, Sentri uses the knights to subvert her wicked
  plots in a dangerous game of cloak and dagger. Although
  suspicious of the popular captain, the Vizier has yet to dis-
  cover irrefutable evidence of his duplicity. The day she
  finds proof (or manufactures the same) is the day that
  Captain Sentri will be crucified atop the palace’s highest
  tower. Until then, Sentri and his knights will continue
  working for the good of the Emperor and all of the North.
  Knights of the Sable March are handpicked by Captain
  Sentri and sworn to secrecy. While not all knights are
  warriors or paladins, their missions are dangerous
  enough to ensure that every knight knows how to handle
  himself in a fight. The Order of the Sable March is first-
  ly sworn to the Emperor of Crieste, then the good of the
  Northlands, and then to one another. They carry them-
  selves as shining visions of chivalry; even when sur-
  rounded by bloodthirsty assassins, a Knight of the Sable
  March is dauntless and noble, though no less deadly for
  his gallantry.
  The Order makes its headquarters in the city of
  Archbridge, in the fortress known simply as the Citadel,
  but their missions can take them to the furthest reaches of
  Áereth. The Citadel houses the collected rolls and
  libraries of the Order, as well as master smiths that turn
  out the distinctive arms and armor of the knights. In
  times of war, the Citadel serves as the last defense of the
  Emperor, and has stockpiles allowing it to survive a full
  siege. The Citadel is also home to the stables of Parelor,
  the legendary, tireless warhorses of the Order. Presently,
  the rolls of honor name roughly one thousand knights,
  aided by twice as many squires and henchmen. 
  The symbol of the Order is a black background pierced
  by three silver stars signifying the tenets of the order:
  honor, duty, and courage. Unlike most knighthoods,
  members of the Order never alter their banners with per-
  sonal heraldry; the simple banner suits the single-minded
  devotion of its knights.
  105
  
  The Ruin Knights 
  A
  secretive cult of warrior-priests dedicated to
  Zühn and the fell god’s plot to bringing about the
  End of Days, the Ruin Knights and their agents
  are universally hated and feared throughout the North.
  While making their home in the Scourge city of Ibinfang,
  the agents of Ruin are far from beholden to Tarkhan
  Khurzog. Secreted within their stronghold of scorched
  stone and iron, the disciples labor to create an army of
  fell creatures that give the order its name. The purpose of
  the Ruin Knights, and the place they play in the cult’s
  planned apocalypse is unclear, for few have survived
  first-hand encounters with them.
  Abroad, agents of Ruin seek out ever more powerful
  magics to outfit their forces and feed their dweomer
  forges. They have been known to lurk at the entrances of
  dungeons and caverns, ambushing weakened heroes
  laden with treasure. Similarly, agents have been found
  aiding tribes of giants, ogres, and orcs, arming them with
  foul artifacts and orchestrating their battles against the
  civilized lands. Assassination attempts on regents are
  also not uncommon, although in order to disguise their
  true agenda, agents of Ruin often masquerade as servants
  of an enemy nation.
  Cells of the cult are suspected to work in large cities
  throughout the North; however, few give credence to this
  speculation. Given the cult’s limited appeal, it is hard to
  imagine even the wickedest of villains supporting the
  cult’s apocalyptic goals.
  Most sources allege the master of the Ruin Knights to be
  Uskgol the Destroyer, a half-orc assassin-priest sworn to
  the service of Zühn. While agents of Ruin can appear
  anywhere, and under any number of guises, most cult
  leaders have training as warrior-priests of Zühn.
  The Slavers’ Society 
  O
  ne of the most secretive groups in all of Djeser
  al-Maqqara is the Slavers’ Society, a council of
  slave masters and criminals that effectively has
  power over all black market activities throughout the
  Lostlands. Effectively the main guild controlling all other
  thieves’ guilds and assassins’ guild, there is neither a
  purse cut nor a pocket picked without the blessing of the
  Slavers’ Society. The ruling council of the Slavers’
  Society decides upon many things that seem bizarre to
  outside, but have much practical purpose to the under-
  world of the Lostlands—the standard price for slaves, the
  accepted contract rate for assassins, the untouchable
  nobles who may never be robbed. Freelance rogues in the
  Lostlands trying to operate outside the directives of the
  Society quickly find themselves on the wrong end of an
  assassin’s blade. 
  All thieves and assassins in the Lostlands are part of the
  Slavers’ Society, whether willing or unwilling; a tithe of
  a gold coin must be given to a local guild on the Day of
  the Fifth Prince. Most rogues, bards, and other adventur-
  ers who engage in questionable activities also pay this
  tithe, if only to avoid potential conflict with the Society.
  These local guilds, in turn, pass on these fees to the
  Slavers’ Society, along with a portion of their revenue.
  Strangely enough, in this instance there does seem to be
  “honor among thieves”—the Society has an uncanny
  knack for discovering dishonesty, and makes pointed
  examples of those who would withhold from them.
  Troublesome guilds have literally vanished overnight,
  the victims of favored assassins in the employ of the
  Slavers’ Society.
  Society members in “good standing”—that is, those who
  pay the Slavers’Society beyond what is owed—can often
  turn their relationship with this dark council to their
  advantage. Prison gates have a way of opening prema-
  turely for these miscreants, and the law often finds itself
  always a few steps behind those favored by the Society.
  The Slavers’ Society also has greater resources—rare
  maps, exotic tools, and the like—than the typical local
  guilds for illicit activities. For a steep fee, rogues who
  seek out high-ranking members of the Slavers’ Society in
  Djeser al-Maqqara may be able to obtain these resources,
  or at least borrow them for a time.
  Sirens of Pelagia
  T
  he Sirens of Pelagia began as a single crew of
  devoted pirate hunters nearly two hundred years
  ago, but has since grown into a masterful, wide-
  spread organization as difficult to oppose as to hide from.
  Sponsored by the church of the Coral Queen, the Sirens
  comprise a network of female clerics and bards. Though
  they are famous for their pirate hunting, the Sirens seek
  to safeguard the open sea from all magic and mundane
  threats. Pollution, maritime warfare, and excessive whal-
  ing and fishing are kept to a minimum wherever the
  Sirens of Pelagia operate. To these ends, the Sirens will
  sail to any sea in the Known Realms, but their strongest
  influence lies within the Empyrean Ocean and the Lirean
  Sea.
  While most are seafaring warriors or priestesses trolling
  the waters in search of malefactors, some Sirens dwell on
  the mainland, representing their interests by recruiting
  new members or employing silver tongues in political
  circles. Official membership is restricted to females of
  106
  
  any humanoid race, but plenty of men—husbands, para-
  mours, or friends—assist with spell or blade. The Sirens
  usually crew schooners and galleys of their own, but
  some Sirens travel the oceans aboard commercial vessels
  and naval warships, hired to protect the crew and grant
  the blessings of the Coral Queen. The organization has a
  very loose hierarchy, and adventuring Sirens need only
  serve Pelagia’s interests in whatever capacity they can.
  Their public façade may be valorous, but the Sirens are
  not paladins of the sea. They serve Pelagia and her ocean-
  ic realms foremost, and toward their preservation they do
  not offer their pirate-hunting services for free. Having the
  most to lose, Northland kings and merchant guilds pay
  the most for Siren escorts in dangerous waters. They
  curse the Sirens for their harsh fees, but secretly know
  that facing criminal privateers or Barrier pirates would be
  a worse fate. Humbler sailors, such as lone captains and
  unaffiliated merchants, more often find the services of
  the Sirens offered freely. Monetary donations from all
  castes are, of course, always encouraged.
  Sirens vary in appearance, but whenever they engage in
  official, church-sponsored capacities, they wear modest
  blue tabards bearing the symbol of Pelagia. The typical
  member wears leather armor—at sea, anything heavier is
  unwise—and adorns her hair with small seashells, carry-
  ing a rapier at her hip. Devoted to the Singing Sea, they
  learn many songs unique to the faith and will often iden-
  tify each other with such melodies. There is an elusive
  charm to the Sirens, as they strive to both oppose and
  study their enemies. A Siren carries herself with the ele-
  gance of a patrician at sea, consorting with melodic mer-
  folk and aquatic elves. Yet she can curse and spit with the
  best of sailors and sing the bawdiest of sea shanties.
  As famous as the Sirens have become, theirs is an endless
  quest. For every devout Siren patrolling the waters, there
  are a hundred unscrupulous pirates who callously run
  Pelagia’s domain red with the blood of innocents. For
  every true prayer to the Coral Queen, there are a thousand
  curses and acts of greed for the worship of gold. To be a
  Siren is to be marked by the lawless as a sworn enemy, as
  every day she risks her life and virtue against the cruelty
  of the Barrier pirates and their monstrous allies. 
  Three women lead this widespread organization. The
  first is Analee Waveseer, an aquatic elf and high priestess
  of Pelagia, who maintains the Temple of the Sacred Wave
  on the organization’s hidden island-base, the Isle of
  Argent. The second is Isolia Seyene, a Criestine lord-
  governess who works to gather support from politicians
  and regents across the Northlands. The third is Saley
  Lonesinger, a virulent privateer who personally hunts the
  most notorious pirate vessels.
  The Secret Kings
  W
  hen the empire of Nimoria passed into antiq-
  uity, torn apart by internecine warfare, it was
  assumed that the legacy of its demon-blooded
  priest-kings ended as well. Unbeknownst to most, a
  secret cadre of aristocrats went into hiding, and emerged
  to seize power when the nation of Crieste was still young.
  Though few in number, these families wield extraordi-
  nary power and wealth, and even sit on the Council of
  Lords. Their aim is nothing less than the destruction of
  Crieste and the rise of a new Nimoria, complete with its
  infernal masters of old.
  The Secret Kings are made up of seven families, each
  with an infernal patron. Three of these families sit upon
  Crieste’s ruling body, the Council of Lords. While their
  numbers are far short of a majority, the influence of the
  families in the imperial court is enough to sway the opin-
  ions of many other lords.
  Like the priest-kings of old, many of those serving the
  Secret Kings are soulless husks, their souls sold into
  damnation in return for terrestrial powers. This is not
  undertaken lightly, since the Secret Kings are far from
  achieving their goals and enemies abound. More com-
  monly, the scions of the Secret Kings carry demon blood
  within their veins. Cambions, tieflings, and half-fiends,
  so common during the reign of the Priest-Kings, still
  exist within the dark halls of the Secret Kings.
  107
  
  The following is an incomplete list of families that are
  alleged to make up the Secret Kings; even the most sus-
  picious researcher has yet to determine the seventh fam-
  ily of the cabal. Eager crusaders should take note: The
  following families are also some of the most respected
  and honored of the empire. To openly accuse them of dia-
  blerie or dealing with infernal powers will only expose
  the accuser to scorn and ridicule, and draw the slow, sure
  wrath of the Secret Kings.
  Asinard: A line of brilliant generals and warriors, House
  Asinard is best known for its Archbridge martial acade-
  my. Within the white, marble halls, young men and
  women of the empire come to study Crieste’s hallowed
  military history and to train beneath masters in the art of
  warcraft. The academy turns out some of the nation’s
  finest swordsmen and lancers, the future leaders of the
  imperial army.
  The family’s patriarch is Conach Asinard, a white-beard-
  ed warrior who never lost the passion or fury of his
  youth. His son, a fearsome warrior named Theodric the
  Black Eagle, is poised to take his father’s place, but few
  expect Lord Conanch to retire soon. 
  Castellain: The scions of House Castellain have always
  served as advisors to the emperor. The family spends
  their days attending the far-flung courts of the barons,
  and there is never a gala or fete held where a Castellain
  is not in attendance. It is said that the family must have
  fae blood in their line, for their sons and daughters are
  unusually alluring and charismatic. Most agree there is
  no secret that the Castellains can’t discover, and that the
  quickest way to the Emperor is through his Castellain
  ladies-in-waiting.
  The family’s head is the young matriarch, Inweth
  Castellain, a woman of exceeding grace, cunning, and
  dark beauty. Inweth and Lady Mortianna, the Emperor’s
  Vizier, are mortal enemies, constantly scheming to sub-
  vert the power of the other. Inweth, a master of social
  graces, demonstrates none of this openly, but Mortianna
  lacks the subtlety of her rival.
  Herac: A family of ranger lords and huntsmen, the sons
  and daughters of House Herac are respected masters of
  the wild. Their home is an ancient castle in northern
  Crieste, decorated with the hides and heads of scores of
  animals and monsters. Watchful and quiet, the lords of
  Herac are most at home in the woods and fields, in pur-
  suit of their quarry. It is whispered that—for the right
  price—the Heracs will track down outlaws. If this is true,
  then there is nowhere in the North for a criminal to hide.
  The ruler of Herac is a lean, older woman, with steel-gray
  hair and the eyes of a hawk. Lady Camoren Herac is
  respected as one of the finest rangers to tread the North,
  and is personally responsible for over half the trophies
  hanging in her ancestral halls. Her husband, Lord Raener,
  is a minor son of House Neraux who married into the
  Herac line. 
  Neraux: An honored family of astrologers, diviners, and
  seers, House Neraux prides itself as keepers of arcane
  lore. Hopeful apprentices travel the length of the empire
  to study at the feet of the masters of House Neraux.
  Located in Kassantia, the family hosts an informal acad-
  emy with each member taking on as many apprentices as
  he or she sees fit. The sweeping, graceful towers of
  Neraux have become symbolic of arcane wisdom in serv-
  ice of the empire.
  Master of the house is Emberin Neraux, a solemn war-
  lock fond of wearing rusted iron masks and dark, con-
  cealing robes adorned with glowing sigils and crawling
  runes. Commoners and nobles alike delight in speculat-
  ing about the reason behind the iron mask; some allege it
  conceals a deformity, others that the master of House
  Neraux is a demon-born cambion, lich, or worse. The
  only ones who might know the truth of the matter are the
  twin spearmaidens who attend Emberin’s every need—
  were both not blind and mute. 
  Seyod: Of all the families of Crieste, House Seyod has
  the deepest coffers. A wildly successful family of traders,
  agents of the house roam the breadth and width of Áereth
  with their merchant galleons and well-guarded wagon
  trains. It is well accepted that the libraries of House
  Seyrod hide the most accurate maps of the North and its
  environs. Such maps are greatly coveted by explorers,
  and even a map alleged to be a “copy of a Seyod” is a
  priceless find. 
  While mighty House Seyod is only one of many mer-
  chant houses originating in Crieste, other merchant lords
  are quick to follow its lead. The family has ruined more
  than one city by refusing to deal with their inhabitants,
  and even regents are loathe to anger the masters of the
  house. House Seyod is directed by a council of three
  patriarchs: Misyl, Rosnold, and Jesail Seyod. 
  Tarasard: The minstrel-scions of House Tarasard enjoy
  an open invitation at courts across the North, and draw
  crowds wherever they play. Women swoon to their men,
  and it is said that no man alive can refuse the smile of a
  Tarasard bardess. The minstrels are sources of the latest
  gossip and of stories of faraway lands, and it is uncom-
  mon to find a court without a Tarasard bard in attendance.
  House Tarasard also boasts the most elite fencing schools
  in all of the western Northlands, and perhaps all of
  Áereth. Each spring, hundreds of Creiste’s finest young
  warriors compete in a tournament hosted by House
  Tarasard. A mere twenty warriors are chosen to attend the
  school and the rest are turned away. Curiously, it is not
  always the winners of the tournament who are selected to
  108
  
  attend the school. Theories about the school’s criteria for
  students abound, but this in no way diminishes the enthu-
  siasm of its applicants.
  The master of House Tarasard is an aging bard, Haldrus
  Tarasard. Master Haldrus personally oversees the fencing
  school and is respected as an authority on nearly all mat-
  ters of politics and state. 
  Threnodim
  T
  he Threnodim are a sect of bardic priests who
  serve Soleth, the god of dignified and merciful
  death. Derisively called the deathsingers by those
  who do not try to understand Soleth’s macabre tenets, the
  bards of the Threnodim are better respected by those who
  must lay their loved ones to rest. 
  When adventuring, the Threnodim always bury the bod-
  ies of the anonymous fallen that they encounter. Often
  these are other, less fortunate adventurers who suc-
  cumbed to the traps or monsters before them. The bards
  sing sweet, mournful elegies for these unknowns, and
  will compose great lamentations for their own compan-
  ions if they are slain. 
  Misunderstood by most, the Threnodim do not long for
  death, either for themselves or for others. They celebrate
  life by honoring death and acknowledging its inevitabili-
  ty. Like all bards, their music can still inspire their com-
  panions to valor, but most of their melodies are grave and
  haunting. The dirges that they frequently perform are
  melancholic to their traveling companions, and for this
  reason Threnodim often go from one group to another.
  Yet the efficiency with which these solemn bards can
  confront the undead often makes them welcome among
  adventuring parties. 
  Hailing from any temple of Soleth, the Threnodim have
  no official base of operations. At least once in their lives,
  however, most make a pilgrimage to the Hall of Requiem
  in Soulgrave. Resembling a massive mausoleum, the
  Hall is the largest known temple to Soleth in the Known
  Realms, and the pilgrimage requires one to venture deep
  into the streets of the necropolis. A permanent clergy
  dwells there, and each night the Threnodim and their
  more numerous clerical counterparts labor to lay as many
  of the undead of Soulgrave to rest as they can before
  retreating into their tomb-like fortress.
  Threnodim dress in somber tones, choosing leather dyed
  with black or gray when required to wear armor. The
  favored instrument of the Threnodim is the threnody
  chime box, a complex device that issues melodious,
  haunting tones. Those who cannot afford or find threnody
  chimes favor recorders, flutes, or harps.
  Trader’s Cabal 
  M
  ore commonly known as the “Traitor’s Cabal,”
  the alliance is composed of the twelve domi-
  nant merchant houses of the Southern
  Province. While the Cabal’s membership is always
  changing due to shifting fortunes, the blades of assassins,
  and ceaseless internal strife, the group’s goals remain
  unchanging: absolute control of Northland trade, by any
  means necessary.
  While not evil in the usual sense of the word, the Cabal
  is utterly amoral and often engages in wickedness that
  even a devil would shun. The Cabal’s single driving prin-
  ciple is profit, and its plans can span entire decades.
  Regents have been raised with the support of the Cabal,
  and just as many meet their end when they dare to thwart
  the Cabal’s interests.
  Based in Punjar, the Trader’s Cabal is headquartered in
  the sprawling sandstone citadel known as the Souk.
  Within its labyrinthine halls, the fortunes of whole
  nations are bandied about like so many soiled coins.
  Tariffs are discussed, taxes argued, and the long-range
  strategy of the Cabal is endlessly debated and revised. 
  With coffers that rival those of a wealthy nation, an army
  of thugs and assassins, and ships that ply every waterway
  and sea of the North, many consider it incredible that the
  Cabal isn’t the uncontested ruler of the Northlands. The
  answer lies in the internecine warfare that plagues the
  Cabal’s ranks. Fearful and distrustful, the members of the
  Cabal are their own worst enemies, constantly vying
  against one another for power. Even as one merchant lord
  seizes control, three others ally against him, only to back-
  stab one another in the mad rush for power. If any one
  lord were ever to secure absolute control of the Cabal, it
  would threaten the foundations of the North, but until
  such time its members are forced to content themselves
  with the lesser nations, playing with them as they would
  puppets on a string.
  At the time of this scribe’s penning, three merchant hous-
  es maintain an uneasy alliance. Most agree that it is only
  a matter of time before one of the three attempts to usurp
  the others, igniting a bloody shadow war in alleys of
  Punjar. 
  House Hoshuet: Ruled by a sweaty boar of a man,
  House Hoshuet has long enjoyed a presence in the
  Trader’s Cabal. Its ruler, Zanji the Poisoner, is a master at
  politics, turning the lesser houses upon one another, buy-
  ing and selling allegiances at will, and keeping the finest
  assassins in Punjar under his exclusive employ. 
  House Quartian: Openly dealing with infernal powers,
  Tesjin the Soulless rules his house through fear and the
  109
  
  threat of his demonic servants. The master of House
  Quartian has placed his soul in a canopic relic of great
  power, thereby foiling all attempts on his life and render-
  ing Tesjin—for all intents—immortal.
  The house specializes in forbidden magic, and pays high-
  ly for wicked artifacts or relics, especially those stolen
  from the naga cities hidden in the far Southlands. Its
  agents scour the corners of Áereth in search of lost cities,
  hiring independent adventurers to do the dirty work of
  exploration.
  House Zaran: The traders of House Zaran are a mystery
  even to their peers. Composed of Lostland shahs, the
  traders refuse to name their city of origin, or provide any
  explanation for the seemingly endless stream of slaves
  and magic items they offer in their tented bazaar. Those
  that have attempted to follow the caravans south invari-
  ably are caught and slain, the corpses left staked on
  spears as a warning to others.
  For all intents, the traders appear to be human, but they
  are never found without their hooded cloaks and the
  heavy cloth wraps that conceal all but their eyes. The
  traders speak in a soft whisper, reminiscent of a hissing
  cobra, and often smell of the strange herbs and oils used
  in the mummification of dead kings. 
  Wanderers 
  T
  he nondescriptly named Wanderers are, in fact, a
  guild of psionic creatures that set out frequently
  from the hidden city of Elraydia. At any given
  time, at least five caravans of Wanderers, each led by a
  high-ranking captain, trek the roads and wilds of the
  Northlands and Lostlands seeking more of their own kin:
  humanoids gifted or cursed with wondrous powers of the
  mind. Many such beings hide their powers, rightly fear-
  ing persecution, while others misuse their talents and
  endanger themselves and others. The Wanderers have
  seen the limits—and the unfettered possibilities—of con-
  trolled psionic power, and they wish to lead the world to
  a future that acknowledges this divinity of the mind.
  Although they first appear to be simple vagabonds and
  gypsies, or even common adventuring companies, a clos-
  er inspection reveals that these caravans contain mem-
  bers of at least several races. In this sense, the Elraydian
  predilection for tolerance and variety can give them
  away. They rely upon racial diversity to help them along
  the dangerous paths of Áereth—but those with an eye for
  psionic-using creatures are usually able to see them for
  what they are. 
  When a caravan is in need of supplies, they either return
  to Elraydia or hire themselves out as beneficent merce-
  naries to purchase more. Accustomed to hiding their tal-
  ents from nonpsionic peoples, the Wanderers have devel-
  oped their own vagabond cant to speak to one another.
  Even without narrow-minded scrutiny, they typically
  employ euphemisms to refer to their own phrenic inter-
  ests. “Kindred spirits,” for example, are the psionic-using
  creatures that the Wanderers seek to find, liberate, or
  safeguard, while “sharpers” are narrow-minded mages
  and priests who persecute psions because they do not
  understand the powers they manifest.
  When the captain deems that enough kindred spirits have
  been found during their journey, he leads the caravan
  homeward again. Most caravans have at least one cleric
  of Auzarr to serve as a healer and spiritual advisor, while
  a handful of psychic warriors serve as the muscle.
  Captains are appointed by the Sestet whenever a
  Wanderer caravan prepares to depart Elraydia, though
  some impressive psions have served in this capacity
  numerous times. Currently, a bardic psion named Linni
  and a psychic warrior named Kashya have made names
  for themselves as captains in the guild, spending more
  time abroad than any other.
  110
  
  111
  The Shadowed West
  W
  est of the Xocoatic Marshes and the Plains of
  Fire is a realm referred to only as the
  Shadowed West. Though not considered part
  of the Southlands, nor drawn on any maps of the Known
  Realms, it is a mysterious land whose mystic beliefs have
  seeped into the religions, customs, and everyday mind-
  sets of the peoples of Ssorlang and Darawan—and per-
  haps in time, the rest of the Southlands.
  The few arrivals from the Shadowed West—mostly
  human, and typically referred to as the Xanthous by
  Northlanders—have distinct appearances: skin yellowed
  by their climate, hair as dark as Xulmecs’, and pro-
  nounced epicanthic folds giving them a more slanted look
  by Northland perception. Whether from early exposure to
  these beings or the elapse of centuries in close proximity
  to the Shadowed West, the people of Darawan and the
  drakon themselves often bear similar physical traits.
  Sages have speculated that the humans of the Southlands
  and the Shadowed West can trace their lineage to the same
  tribes first subjugated by dragonkind ages ago.
  The land separating the Known Realms from the
  Shadowed West remains a natural—or perhaps unnatu-
  ral—barrier, preventing both worlds from establishing
  regular trade routes. In the north, the Eztenqui Jungle
  grows more perilous with each westward mile. The mor-
  dant Xocoatic Marshes and the scalding Plains of Fire bar
  passage for common mortals. In the south, the Kharan
  Plateau becomes a desolate wasteland where few trees
  thrive and only hardy grasses cling to life. If one can
  endure the countless miles of bleak life, perhaps the
  Shadowed West can be reached. Such an overland jour-
  ney, requiring one to penetrate Ssorlang first, is said to
  take months, at best. Most journeys to the Shadowed
  West are by sea, but the jagged coastlines south and west
  of Ssorlang, which seem to stretch on endlessly, are
  wracked by monsoons in every season, making the voy-
  age a perilous one. 
  Whatever the nature of the Shadowed West, great works
  of good and evil have come from these unseen lands.
  Despite the dangers of the journey, the perplexing
  Xanthous make periodic, if infrequent, visitations to the
  Known Realms, usually by way of the Ayalan Sea in the
  south or the Sea of Desperation in the north. Their cus-
  toms are bizarre even to the Southland mindset, yet they
  bring trade goods that cannot be found anywhere else.
  Outlandish foods are brought to the famous emporiums
  of Myashtlan and medicinal wonders to the Criestine
  Colonies. Paintings of their homeland depict curve-
  roofed, storied towers, and majestic pagodas. 
  However strange, they possess many similarities to the
  folk of the Known Realms. Noble warriors, clad in exot-
  ic armors of iron, leather, silk, and brass bear a resem-
  blance, in a fundamental way, to Northland paladins.
  Chapter 6
  Beyond the Known realms
  
  112
  Robed mountain warriors and arcane monks employ
  fighting styles similar to those practiced among the
  monasteries of the Known Realms, while spellcasters in
  colorful mantles call upon spirits of nature to fuel their
  magic like the wizards and druids of the Southlands.
  Underdeep:
  The World Below
  W
  ith the falling of the Shadow Star so many
  centuries ago, a smoldering rift was created in
  the Lostlands that became a dark doorway.
  The World Below, for eons limited in its abilities to reach
  the rest of Áereth, suddenly had a gateway to the nations
  of the Lostlands. The impact of the Shadow Star was felt
  in more ways than one as the Devil’s Cauldron began to
  boil, as the denizens of this underground region began to
  extend their reach and ambition into the sunlit kingdoms
  above. 
  In the region of the Lostlands, the World Below has
  always been dominated by the aboleth. Miles beneath the
  deserts of this barren, desolate region are hundreds of
  cold, murky lakes, with a labyrinthine network of power-
  ful underground rivers connecting them all. The aboleth
  rule from the depths of these waters, using sorcery and
  guile to enslave all that they encounter. The abollar,
  derro, and duergar are the aboleth’s loyal—and violent—
  servants.
  The drow are the other formidable power to be found
  here. Although not possessing the raw power of the abo-
  leth, their sheer numbers make them a force to be reck-
  oned with. They are a relatively recent arrival into the
  underground realms below the Lostlands; much of their
  strength lies to the North, where their rule is unchal-
  lenged. While they have no love of the aboleth, they also
  have no desire to engage in a genocidal war with them;
  hence, the drow have deferred to the aquatic monstrosi-
  ties … for the time being. 
  The kingdom of Gorhgijesk acts as the main power rul-
  ing the World Below in this part of Áereth. However,
  there are several small independent areas that remain iso-
  lated from the kingdom, and they keep their nefarious
  activities to themselves. 
  The connection between the Lostlands and the dark king-
  doms beneath it began long ago. Dwarves, sent by their
  sphinx masters to mine shadow stone so many centuries
  in the past, eventually went mad and tunneled their way
  deep into the mountains, finding their way into the World
  Below. These insane dwarves—who had mutated into the
  monstrosities known as derro—fell into the mental
  clutches of the mighty aboleth. From the derro, the abo-
  leth learned of the Khonsurian Empire, and the politics of
  the lands above them. 
  Drow scouts began to spy upon the lands above them.
  They learned that the powers that ruled the strange sur-
  face lands, though formidable, were stagnant … and
  careless. The successors to the Khonsurian Empire, like
  the sphinxes before them, had become complacent. The
  aboleth and the drow sensed the opportunity for con-
  quest, and from that moment forward began the slow,
  patient steps necessary for invasion. 
  The underground rivers and caverns reach far throughout
  the Lostlands, to the Northlands and beyond, reaching
  like sinister tentacles into every nook and cranny.
  Aboleth gold falls quietly into the hands of many a mer-
  chant or noble in the Lostlands, providing the aquatic
  horrors with an effective network of spies and inform-
  ants. Additionally, drow assassins can drop into any city
  or village in the Lostlands with ease, merely following
  their grand system of tunnels to the destination of their
  choosing. As they and the aboleth now begin to amass
  their forces in earnest, it may not be long before armies—
  not just assassins—pour out of these tunnels, and make
  the presence of the World Below known upon the World
  Above.
  
  113
  T
  hat Áereth is a world of antiquity is disputed by
  none. An armchair scholar need merely walk into
  the fields outside his pastoral home and gaze a
  while upon the standing stones of the druids, walk to the
  village along a road laid by armies of forgotten slaves,
  examine the ancestral blade hung on the belt of the
  shire’s reeve, or consider the hearth stone above his
  lord’s fireplace and the strange runes etched thereon. 
  In many ways, citizens of the Known Realms are foreign-
  ers in their own land, blissfully unaware of all that came
  before. Living day to day with the threat of raiders, dire
  beasts, and marauding giants is challenge enough. To
  these poor souls, history is a curiosity best left to the
  sages.
  For their part, the sages agree, knowing that if the com-
  mon serf understood the truth of civilization’s fleeting
  nature, there would be little to enforce the rule of kings.
  For the history of Áereth is extensive, and the Reign of
  Man is but a brief notation scribed in the tome of ages.
  Just what came before and in what sequence, few schol-
  ars can agree. The elven libraries of the Corsan were lost
  with the razing of Arovarel. Tablets of unknown antiqui-
  ty exist in the secret libraries of the Theocracy, but their
  pictographs resist all attempts at decoding. Worst of all,
  few are the regents who can be troubled with the work of
  history; like the unschooled peasants laboring in the
  fields, most kings and lords are consumed by the daily
  struggle to maintain order and defend their realms
  against the incursions of man and beast.
  Surprisingly, it is those with the least history that have
  the greatest interest in its study. Adventurers, risen from
  the ranks of common sellswords, alley toughs, and street-
  corner magicians, spend their careers deep within the
  ruins of civilizations long past. The success of their ven-
  tures—and the length of their careers—depends entirely
  upon the accuracy and depth of knowledge gained prior
  to the expedition.
  Just as veteran explorers consult sages, so too do sages
  seek out adventurers who are brave, skilled, and lucky
  enough to return with firsthand knowledge and relics of
  the bygone ages. Together, the Hero and the Sage are
  slowly piecing together an accurate history of the world.
  It is a mammoth work and subject to constant revision,
  and yet it represents the best presentation of knowledge
  agreed upon today.
  Finally, it must be acknowledged that this history shows
  a human bias. Explorers returning from the colonies
  report of dynasties—like those of the dwarves and
  elves—that shame the earliest known Northland nations.
  Who can say what mighty empires rose and fell before
  humans learned to walk erect? Civilization was a late-
  comer to humankind and her Northlands. But until more
  can be learned of these ancient cultures, and of their
  place in the destiny of Áereth, our focus must remain on
  the mysterious North.
  Time Line of the
  Northlands
  Dates use the Empyrean Calendar (EC).
  Date
  Events
  –120
  The storm giant Aeshotal begins his campaign
  to unite the disparate giant tribes of the Known
  Realms into a single alliance bent on domina-
  tion of Áereth.
  –66
  The War of Divine Right begins. Fleeing the
  march of the giants, tribes of human savages
  scatter across the North.
  –46
  The humans of Xulmec construct a colossal
  obsidian idol at the behest of the god Huamec.
  –44
  Possessing the obsidian idol himself, Huamec
  defeats the fire and storm giants that assail the
  Southlands. The idol is broken in the conflict,
  and the god is believed slain.
  –43
  Attempting to stem the march of the giants, the
  armies of the Abylosian Empire, along with
  Chapter 7
  History of the Northlands
  
  druids, wizards, and countless slaves create the
  Wall of Abylos.
  –41
  Ahna-Vithyre, the great elven homeland, burns.
  –37
  Aeshotal and the armies of giants surround
  Ahna-Vithyre and Amonzadd in the land of
  Lirea. The dwarven and elven nations join
  forces to form the Eldritch Coalition. 
  –34
  The cloud giantess Jathra seeks out the leaders
  of the Eldritch Coalition, bearing the secrets of
  the Pillars of Expulsion.
  –15
  The Pillars of Expulsion are completed and acti-
  vated, but magical interference from the
  Coalition’s dissenters creates a backlash of the
  artifacts’ might, leading to the slow destruction
  of Lirea. The land sinks beneath the waters of
  the Empyrean, drowning the armies of the
  giants, elves and dwarves, and destroying the
  great cities of Ahna-Vithyre and Amonzadd.
  The Lirean Sea is formed in its place.
  –7
  The War of Divine Right comes to an end.
  1 
  The shattered remnants of the elven and dwar-
  ven nations agree to solemn treaties in honor of
  the Eldritch Coalition, then retreat to their clan-
  holds to rebuild their nations. The tribes of
  humans descend into unchecked barbarism,
  heralding the First Dark Age. 
  252
  The last of the Mages of Nemfar create the
  secret order of Druid Kings to guide the humans
  in the ways of the ancients.
  260+
  For one thousand years, the Dark Age stretches
  on. Countless nations rise only to fall back into
  savagery, swept under by hordes of barbarians
  and monstrous humanoids. The nations of elves
  and dwarves slowly rebuild their power. 
  1200+
  The legendary mage Tsathzar Rho rises to
  power. At the apex of his might, the wizard’s
  stronghold is destroyed and the surrounding
  lands reduced to ash. 
  1550
  The nations Kothea, Nimoria, and Erheim
  emerge from the tide of barbarism. 
  1753
  The barbarian hordes of Abylos begin their war
  against the Druid Kings.
  1760
  Erheim falls before the Abylossian horde.
  1779
  The war between Kothea and Abylos grinds to a
  halt. The slave people of Uru’Nuk rise up
  against their Abylossian masters and fight their
  way to freedom in the East.
  1800+
  The Priest-Kings of Nimoria strike bargains
  with Infernal powers. The scouts of Kothea
  make first contact with elves and dwarves. 
  1810 
  Nimoria raises an army of cambions, devils, and
  demons and goes to war with the nations of
  elves and dwarves.
  1814
  The dark armies of Nimoria are defeated and the
  Priest-Kings turn to infighting and bickering.
  1978
  The monks of the Monastery of the Dawning
  Sun establish the cloister of Clynnoise to protect
  the collected lore of the Known Realms.
  2100+
  Nimoria descends into civil war. Kothea slowly
  breaks into a score of fractious kingdoms. 
  2185
  Clynnoise is destroyed by the Orcs of the
  Broken Tusk, who, with the aid of giants, build
  a keep on the site.
  2200+
  The empires of men descend back into chaos
  and internecine warfare. Gunere Numon begins
  to unite disparate warbands, forging the nation
  of Crieste from the ashes of Nimoria.
  2233
  The Knights of Gorhan retreat to the north,
  building the Cloister of the Ordocar and dedi-
  cating themselves to lives of contemplation and
  service.
  2250+
  Crieste expands its borders north, east and
  south, slowly growing to a great empire.
  Alliances are struck with the elves and dwarves,
  and the first halfling caravans begin their march
  across Áereth. Legends of a gleaming white
  tower, protected by an invisible wall, begin to
  circulate. 
  2400+
  Criestine explorers sail west, making new con-
  tact with the Xulmec city-states, and marking
  the Golden Age of Crieste.
  2521
  The renowned fire wizardress, Soranna of the
  Stolen Ember, and her companion, the swords-
  man Bezentaine, vanish into the northern Ul
  Dominor mountains.
  2553
  The Company of the Black Osprey clear out the
  ruins of Clynnoise, claiming Castle Whiterock
  for their own. Fifty-eight years later, the last
  member of the Company dies and Castle
  Whiterock falls into ruin and disrepair.
  2670
  The armies of the drow-fiend Chalychia, armed
  with the Shadowstone, conquer the elven city of
  Arovarel. The very next year, she is defeated by
  a band of heroes led by the paladin Valinus. The
  ruined city of Arovarel is never rebuilt.
  114
  
  2887
  In a private imperial court, the eldest son of the
  emperor, Ghorrene the Black Eagle, is convict-
  ed of deviltry. Ghorrene is exiled from Crieste
  and the imperial throne is awarded to his
  younger brother, Oststad the II.
  2894
  The Black Eagle raises an army of evil merce-
  naries, slaves, and monstrous humanoids, and
  sails on eastern Crieste. The warriors stationed
  at Gurnard’s Head are ordered to hold their
  posts at all costs, beginning the Siege of
  Sorrows.
  2899
  The armies of the Black Eagle are defeated, and
  Ghorrene vanishes into the East.
  2903
  Emperor Oststad the II is abducted from his
  palace in Kassantia. The lord-barons are unable
  to decide upon a new emperor. The Interregnum
  begins, lasting for the next 300 years.
  2905+
  The majority of the North slowly reverts into
  unclaimed wilderness, isolated fiefdoms, and
  small kingdoms. Human woodsmen break
  ancient treaties with the elven nations, and har-
  vest vast swaths of scarred timber, sparking
  numerous conflicts.
  3075
  The Southern Province secedes from the
  Criestine Empire. Crieste goes to war with its
  old province, but fails to regain the territory.
  3098
  The pirate Bloody Jack Dascombe plunders the
  imperial tribute fleet. He is caught six months
  later and executed, but the treasure is never
  recovered.
  3100+
  Thire and Luthea declare their independence,
  and the remainder of the northern kingdoms fol-
  low suit. The Empire of Crieste shrinks to a
  tenth of its original size, leading sages to proph-
  esize the coming of a Second Dark Age.
  3101
  Silverton miners accidentally uncover and
  release the vampire Sorrenna. The mine’s
  owner, Jaspar Gannu, is held responsible.
  Master Gannu is lynched and his wife and child
  are run out of town. The Gannu family home is
  burned to the ground and the site is sown with
  thorny vines.
  3171
  The wicked conjurer, Erasmus Lore, seizes con-
  trol of Dundraville, only to be defeated by the
  Company of the Silver Lute. 
  3195
  The ogre mage Tarkhan Khurzog seizes control
  of the Scourgelands, marching on the Grand
  Duchy of Leherti.
  3196
  The disparate nations of man, elf, and dwarf rise
  up together, arresting the halt of the Scourge,
  but not before the Grand Duchy of Leherti is left
  in ruins.
  3197
  Unable to stem the tide of secession, the lord-
  barons of Crieste elect a seven-year-old boy to
  be Emperor, bringing the Interregnum to an end.
  3198
  Whitefang Citadel is built atop Aurora Pass in
  the Dragonspire Mountains.
  3199
  Spring: A trio of hurricanes strike Argalis and
  neighboring coastal towns. Winter: The Star of
  the Black Sun appears in the night sky.
  3200
  Present Day
  The First Dark Age
  H
  umankind’s dominance of the North began with
  the War of Divine Right, when the race of giants
  rose up as one in an attempt to enslave the less-
  er, humanoid races. No one knows how long the war
  waged, or how many thousands of heroes gave their lives
  in defense of freedom, but when the waters of the
  Empyrean swallowed the last peaks of Lirea, the ancient
  empires of elves and dwarves had been laid low. The
  elves retreated to their remaining forest sanctuaries, and
  the dwarves sealed the gates to their mountain clanholds.
  Both races had suffered mightly in the war and only by
  turning their backs on the world were they able to survive
  with their cultures intact.
  In their stead rose the fledgling nations of mankind.
  Scattered in the aftermath of the war, isolated from their
  elven and dwarven mentors and struggling for survival in
  the savage wilderness, Northland humans quickly forgot
  the secrets of metalcraft and magic. With few traditions
  of their own, they descended into savagery and bar-
  barism. Within fifteen generations—not even the lifespan
  of a single elf or dwarf—all that remained of their former
  greatness was a collection of oral histories retold by
  skalds, and a handful of ancestral weapons and armors,
  passed from one conquering warchief to the next.
  Reign of the Druid Kings
  W
  itnessing the rapid decline of man, the last of
  the great magi sought ways to preserve the
  fragile advances of mankind. Some entombed
  themselves within the earth to wait out the march of ages,
  dark wizards pursued the promise of lichdom, and others
  sought to transfer their intellect and souls within staves
  and constructs.
  115
  
  The mages of Nemfar sought another solution, and sum-
  moned together a coalition of young druids. The druids
  were given the rudimentary secrets of arcane magic and
  entrusted with the destiny of mankind. Binding arcane
  magic with the divine might of the druids, the dying arch-
  mages spent the last of their powers raising the standing
  stones that dot the Northlands and imbuing them with
  mighty dweomers and the power to work miracles. 
  Armed with magic of old, the Druid Kings built temple-
  palaces atop high mountain passes, within misted forest
  vales, and alongside tumbling waterfalls. Protected from
  the endless wars of the barbarians, the masters amassed
  the collective knowledge of the elder races, met with the
  dragons of old, and sought out alliances with the elves
  and dwarves.
  Knowing the power of their lore, the masters were cau-
  tious when revealing it to their barbarian brothers. They
  carefully chose initiates from among the savage hordes
  and tutored these select few in the ways of the ancients.
  In time, the initiates returned to their tribes, where they
  served as wisemen, healers, and advisors. Progress was
  slow as untold civilizations rose and fell, but over time
  the mightiest of the new nations—Kothea, Nimoria, and
  Erheim—emerged from the sea of barbarism, carefully
  guided by the hidden masters.
  The Druid Kings’ machinations went undetected by
  most, but the leaders that were too cunning or willful to
  submit to the rule of advisors rebelled. Chief among
  these rebels were the painted barbarians of Abylos.
  Summoning a great horde, they swept over the
  Dragonspire Mountains and poured into the heart of the
  Northlands. In the ensuing slaughter, hundreds of initi-
  ates were burned alive, the palaces of Druid Kings were
  razed, and their ancient libraries were put to the torch.
  Kothea, Nimoria,
  and Erheim 
  F
  lames of war raged throughout the west. Erheim
  fell before the horde, but not before the horde’s
  master was slain in single combat by the Princeling
  of Erheim. Both were carried back to Abylos and buried
  beneath the Dragonspire Mountains.
  Nimoria, protected in the west, weathered the assault
  behind crude stone walls and wooden towers. Kothea
  took the brunt of the assault, and the war with their
  Abylossian brothers lasted for twenty blood-soaked
  years, the Kotheans and Abylossians slowly adopting the
  others’ traditions.
  Meanwhile, far to the east, the people of Uru’Nuk rose up
  against their Abylossian masters. The horde of Abylos,
  unable to wage war on two fronts, collapsed. The liberat-
  ed Uru’Nuk people migrated east, taking up residence on
  the high prairies that now carry their name.
  The Age of Empires
  T
  he Priest-Kings of Nimoria, seeing their chance to
  seize control of the west, struck foul bargains with
  infernal powers, foolishly believing that they
  could turn the depravity of demons and devils to their
  advantage. The souls of the royal line were sold into eter-
  nal damnation and the fortunes of Nimoria rose to precip-
  itous heights. Cambions ran unchecked through the
  imperial court. Its nobility engaged in bloody sacrificial
  rites, and its corrupt populace bartered with wicked crea-
  tures of every sort.
  To the east, the nation of Kothea slowly recovered from
  decades of war. Strengthened by the infusion of barbar-
  ian blood, the warriors of Kothea rode east and north,
  battling with monstrous humanoids and encountering the
  outriders of the sylvan realm. Meeting with the elves for
  the first time in centuries, the Kotheans began trade rela-
  tions with their cousins of the woods. Led by gnome
  guides into the Ul Dominor mountains, the Kothean
  scouts held council with the dwarven lords. After years of
  explorations, the Kothean expedition returned to their
  emperor with tales of grand palaces atop great trees and
  the mightiest of cities hidden beneath the roots of moun-
  tains.
  Armed with the knowledge of a much larger world,
  Kothea began trading with the elder races in earnest. But
  the infernal-blooded kings of Nimoria, foolishly believ-
  ing the counsel of demons, saw the dwarves and elves to
  116
  
  be a threat to their power. Raising an army of slaves,
  demon-blooded sorcerers, and aberrations, they marched
  on the forests and mountain holdfasts. The armies of
  Nimoria were met with the unrestrained fury of the dwarf
  and elf races. In less than five years, the demon-spawned
  armies were crushed by the might of the elder races.
  Defeated, the Priest-Kings turned to bickering and then
  outright warfare among themselves as each vied for
  power over his peers. 
  Meanwhile, the people of Kothea had spread far to the
  north, scouts coming within sight of the Hoarfrost Bay.
  But as they encountered elves, dwarves, and other
  races—some savage, some not—the Kotheans were
  slowly absorbed into the local customs and cultures, until
  they were Kothean in name only. Stretched over the far
  reaches of the North, the sun slowly set on the greatest
  empire the Northlands had yet known. Mighty Kothea,
  jewled crown of the east, sank under the weight of its
  own success, splintering into a dozen fractious realms.
  The Demon Empire
  E
  ven as Kothea began its inevitable decline, the
  Priest-Kings 
  of 
  Nimoria 
  continued 
  their
  internecine warfare. Heeding the calls of their dia-
  bolic and demonic advisors, each believed that he or she
  was destined to be the one true emperor of Nimoria. 
  Armies of slaves, driven on by demonic taskmasters
  wreathed in azure flames, marched to their death.
  Chariots thundered across the land, and war horns sound-
  ed the call to battle. The armies clashed on the high plains
  of Samshem, churning the fields to mud beneath their
  sandaled feet. Mighty war mammoths crushed entire
  legions, as prides of dire lions tore through ranks of
  slave-soldiers. Cambion generals fought alongside sum-
  moned devils, while the Priest-Kings themselves brought
  down fire from the heavens.
  When the battles had ended and the last war horn sound-
  ed, the empire of Nimoria had fought itself into ruin. A
  nameless spearman found the last two Priest-Kings
  locked in mortal combat amid the smoking remains of
  armies. Begging forgiveness for the sins of his empire,
  the spearman slew both regents with a single blow, then
  raised a pale, blood soaked flag of surrender over their
  soulless bodies.
  In the months and years that followed, the empire—lack-
  ing a single leader—fell into chaos and savagery. Strange
  cults emerged and flourished, predicting a coming apoc-
  alypse and the end of days. Bandit warlords ruled the
  countryside, while the adjuncts of the lost Priest-Kings
  fought for control of the faithful. Monstrous humanoids
  swarmed unchecked, and once again beasts preyed upon
  man. From the smoking ruins of an empire rose the war-
  lord Gunere Numon, the same man who would one day
  be crowned the Emperor of Crieste.
  The Rise of Crieste
  B
  orn a slave, Gunere Numon distinguished himself
  in the war years, rising through the ranks of the
  Nimorian army. In the years after the war, he
  sought refuge among the warbands, swearing loyalty to
  one of the nameless bandit lords that rose to power. In
  short order, Numon assumed command of the band, lead-
  ing a series of successful raids on the fortresses of near-
  by warlords.
  But Numon was not content to be the master of brigands.
  As a young man, he had witnessed firsthand the ravages
  of war, and knew that so long as fractious warlords ruled
  the land, peace would elude his people. Taking up arms
  and the mantle of Crieste (Nimorian for the dire lions that
  roam the Samshem plains), Numon systematically con-
  quered the surrounding warlords, expanding the sweep of
  his domain. Surrounding himself with a handpicked
  council of warriors, Numon and his generals unified the
  scattered ruins of the empire.
  Now hailed as King Numon the Lion, the general sent his
  warriors to the farthest reaches of the empire, quelling
  the threat of monstrous humanoids and rebels and mak-
  ing the roads and fields safe for the commoner. Even as
  an aging warrior, Numon the Lion refused to put down
  his sword, leading quests against dragons, barbarians,
  and any foe that would threaten his people. In his final
  years, he granted each general a barony, and empowered
  the Council of Lords to guide his fledgling empire.
  When the great regent died, the entire nation mourned his
  passing. Throughout the winter, solemn flags hung from
  the tops of citadels and towers, while the Council of
  Lords met to discuss the future of the empire. 
  When spring finally broke winter’s frosty grasp, the
  mourning flags were replaced with the triumphant ban-
  ners of Crieste, and a young baron, Korde of Kassantia,
  was crowned Emperor of Crieste.
  Of Barons and Colonies
  C
  rieste flourished for seven hundred glorious
  years, slowly expanding its borders east and
  north, creating new baronies as territories were
  explored and conquered. Criestine ambassadors were
  granted audience with the elven and dwarven nations,
  new alliances were struck, and humanity entered a cultur-
  al renaissance. Knights rode against barbarians to the
  117
  
  north and east, raising blade and shield in the defense of
  civilization. Contested by orcs, giants, and lost tribes of
  savage humans, they claimed entire wildernesses in the
  name and glory of Crieste. 
  Meanwhile, Kalían ships sailed far to the west, bringing
  home stories of savage cannibals, impenetrable jungles,
  and unimaginable wealth for the taking. Darel Voltigeur,
  a cunning sea captain, established the first Criestine
  colony, incurring the wrath of the drakon that ruled the
  land. The snake men rose up, and it took the united might
  of the Xulmec allies, the Criestine navy, and the elven
  warrior-mages of the Blackbriar to defeat them.
  But the empire’s success brought decadence. While the
  Criestine armies struggled mightily on the borderlands
  and in the colonies, the lord-barons and generals of the
  interior grew steadily more complacent, indulging in
  extravagant balls and raising monuments to their own
  glory.
  It was not to last. On the eve of his thirtieth year,
  Emperor Oststad vanished from his palace, abducted in
  the night. The lord-barons sent for the empire’s greatest
  astrologers, seers, magicians, and diviners, while knights
  of the realm scoured the countryside, but to no avail. The
  ruler of the most powerful empire in the world had disap-
  peared without a trace.
  Each lord-baron sought to turn the situation to his advan-
  tage, vying for power before a new emperor could be
  elected. One year turned to five and then ten. Unable or
  unwilling to agree upon a new emperor, the fractious
  Council of Lords allowed the empire to descend into
  interregnum.
  The Interregnum and
  Rise of the Free Kings
  F
  or three hundred years, Crieste limped along with-
  out an emperor. Seasons passed, the fortunes of the
  baronies rose and fell, and still the corrupt Council
  of Lords refused to agree upon an emperor. 
  Life was little changed in the empire’s interior, but on the
  borders of the empire the baronies had to fight for their
  very existence against monstrous threats and barbarian
  raiders. The baronies turned to mercenary companies for
  support in their desperate fight for survival. Each year
  they sent emissaries to the imperial court, begging the
  lords to set aside their differences and agree upon an
  emperor, and each year their requests were denied. 
  Beset by danger on all sides, the baronies became the
  masters of their own fate. Treaties and alliance were bro-
  ken with the elven nations, as woodsmen cut into the
  hearts of the great forests of old. Man warred against elf,
  driving the sylvan people further into isolation. The
  dwarves, high atop their mountain citadels, suffered less
  at the hands of men, welcoming those that came in peace,
  and easily crushing the rest.
  The Southern Province was the first to declare independ-
  ence from Crieste, seceding from the empire in a bloody
  revolution. The nations of the North watched with inter-
  est as the Council of Lords struggled to respond. When,
  after a decade of empty threats and meaningless postur-
  ing, Crieste had failed to regain the Province, it was clear
  how powerless the Council of Lords had become. Acting
  on the ineffectual weakness of the empire’s government,
  the barons took matters into their own hands, declaring
  independence in quick succession.
  Fearing the collapse of their empire, the Council of Lords
  hastily convened. For seven days and nights, they argued
  and fought, debating the virtues of one candidate against
  the next. On the eighth day, they threw open the doors of
  the Council and announced the sixteenth Emperor of
  Crieste: a seven-year old boy. The child would rule
  alongside his vizier, Lady Mortianna, until his fifteenth
  birthday, when he would assume full mastery of the
  Dragonskull Throne. 
  Starved for leadership and desperate for an emperor, the
  surviving baronies quickly welcomed their new emperor.
  Wrath of the Scourge
  and the Fall of Leherti
  W
  hile Crieste writhed in the death throes of an
  empire, its greatest fief, the Grand Duchy of
  Leherti, teetered on the brink of collapse.
  Years of inbreeding had reduced the Andithil dynasty to
  feebleminded figureheads incapable of leadership.
  Blessed with abundant resources and bountiful harvests,
  there was little need for true leadership, and for too long
  the Grand Duchy was able to eke by on the widom of its
  seneschals. 
  The illusion came to an end in the summer of 3195. A
  ten-year drought had reduced the Mirdar-Luminar
  Steppes to a tinderbox, and brought low the migratory
  herds of draex and reindeer. When a late summer light-
  ning storm set fire to the Mirdar Forest, the hungry tribes
  of ogres, goblinoids, and giant-kin swarmed into the
  Grand Duchy. Tarkhan Khurzog, a demonic ogre-mage
  of unmatched cunning and cruelty, seized control of the
  hordes, hammering the chaotic mob into a disciplined,
  regimented force. Seeing the might of the Tarkhan, evil
  mercenary companies, foul wizards, and infernal priests
  rallied to his banner.
  118
  
  119
  Previously, the disorganized humanoid mobs of the
  steppes had posed little threat to the knights of Leherti.
  But by summer’s end, the plains shook to the awful beat
  of marching soldiers, mighty siege engines dotted the
  horizon, and dragons rode upon the smoke of war. The
  Scourge had been born. 
  Idiot-born and spineless, the ruling family of Leherti
  struggled to mount a defense against the coming dark-
  ness. Seeing their nation in danger of destruction, the
  generals of the Grand Duchy launched a desperate coup.
  The assassins failed, and Archduke Ramaster the XII
  executed each of his generals in retribution, and the
  Scourge marched on Leherti unopposed.
  The ensuing chaos is well documented. Abandoned by
  their rulers, each city was left to its own defenses. The
  northernmost cities fell first, their citizens taken as slaves
  or sacrificed to the Scourge’s demonic patrons. Noble
  warriors of Leherti marched against the Scourge and
  were defeated time and again.
  Knights of the Lance and the Sable March, and the steel-
  clad legions of Holdfast dwarves, bolstered by the elven
  mage knights of Corsan and the sorcerers of Koranth,
  rode to the defense of the Grand Duchy. The ragtag
  alliance of good clashed with the Scourge on the plains
  above Wyrm’s Deep. When winter brought the season of
  war to an end, over three-quarters of Leherti had fallen to
  the armies of the Tarkhan.
  Present Day
  A
  grim cloud hangs over the Northlands. At the
  time of this scribe’s feeble scratchings, scarcely
  one-third of the North can be properly termed
  civilized. The great empires of yore have all slipped
  beneath the march of time. Where great cities once
  thrived, tall forests now stand. The magnificent works of
  wizards abound, but few can lay claim to their arcane
  might. Ruins of old whisper of long-lost secrets, waiting
  only for those daring enough to uncover them. Fell mon-
  sters prowl the borderlands, while barbarian raiders grow
  ever bolder. The civilized nations of mankind, once the
  shining rulers of the North, are poised on the brink of
  ruin.
  Majestic Crieste has shrunk to a handful of baronies. Its
  emperor, a mere child, is counseled by corrupt barons
  and a vizier of unchecked wickedness. Once again mon-
  sters and monstrous humanoids roam the darkness, set-
  ting upon the helpless and weak. The Priest-Kings of old
  have returned, and wage a secret war for control of the
  empire.
  The Grand Duchy of Leherti lies in smoking decay, its
  cities put to the torch and its people enslaved to monsters.
  The surviving free cities are hard put to hold their own,
  let alone retake that which was lost. The armies of the
  Scourge, far from defeated, bide their time and recoup
  their forces, waiting only for the time to finish what they
  have begun.
  The Southern Province and northern nations, once
  beholden to the Emperor of Crieste, now strike out for
  their own. They carry humankind’s fiery torch, but are
  threatened on all sides, contesting with each other as
  much as with monsters.
  Travel between nations grows ever less frequent and ever
  more dangerous. Meanwhile, barbarians of the North and
  Abylos of old, threaten at the borders, raiding deeper into
  the heart of civilization. Dark seers consult their fiendish
  masters and declare an end to the Age of Man.
  And yet, not all is lost. Courageous heroes hail from
  every quarter, eager to take up arms and spells in the
  defense of civilization. In Crieste, the Knights of the
  Sable March fight in the name of the Emperor and wage
  a secret war against their evil vizier. Dwarven warlords
  take up axe beside elf knights of the Blackbriar, Corsan,
  and Anseur. Knights of the Lance ride to the ends of the
  North, fighting for justice and good. And everywhere,
  adventurers, refusing to slip silently into the annals of
  history, fight their way into forgotten ruins and ancient
  dungeons, returning with untold riches and arcane relics.
  It is a time of heroes, when power, riches, and honor can
  be won by anyone courageous enough to take risks
  against the threatening darkness.
  
  120
  And Thus Unfolds The Age of Man. What Legends Will You Tell?
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Dungeons & Dragons [multi]/Books/3p/Goodman/Goodman - Adv - 35 - Gazetteer of the Known Realms - Gazetteer - Easy Print.pdf