[TTRPG Setting] - The World of ArgentDawnia - Help Create A Shared Fantasy World!

[Atahalni-argent-dawn (Atahalni)]

Disclaimer: I got a bit carried away when this thread came out, and I have just slowly been adding details to my post as time has passed. I am finally done.

I hope that you enjoy my submission and apologize for the length of it. As said, I got carried away, i apologize for the typos as this was written over the span of a few weeks in the phone, but that’s all :).

Nation/Kingdom Name:
The Desolation of Atahalnia

Government Type: Cult Theocracy

Coat of Arms or Banner: A white sun against a black horizon.

Capital: Arikura, The Seat of The Dark Seer

Ethnic Groups/Species: Mixed, all species.

Religions: Death Cult of Arikura, many others

Imports Food, water, alcohol, spices

Exports Minerals, particularly sulfur, saltpeter and salt, Maraq

Hallmarks: Incredibly hostile interior desert, hosting a fanatical death cult dedicated to becoming immortal.

Signature Weapon: None

National Dish: Maraq, a fermented, salty sauce added into various foods around the world to give them a rich umami flavour.

Interesting Things About The Desolation of Atahalnia

The Desolation of Atahalnia is often called the graveyard of the world of Argent Dawnia. Death seems ever present; Signs of the bygone life are embedded in the very rock of the land, where fossils of creatures resembling ancient marine life can be spotted with the naked eye. More recent signs show the ruins of great civilizations having left their marks behind, stubbornly resisting the passing of time.

People come to the Desolation from all corners of Argent Dawnia. Many come to plunder the land for it’s rich mineral resources that nobody has tried to claim dominion over. Others come to the land to escape their past. Many more still come to trade and learn at the great city of Arikura.

But above all else, the overwhelming majority of people that come to the Desolation come to seek an audience with the Dark Seer of Arikura. From the lowliest of beggars to the grandest of kings, people from all walks of life come to him.

Some come in the hopes of learning things from the past. Others come to learn their future. Some with boundless ambition come to bargain for boons of power, or to resurrect loved ones or to speak with the dead. The Dark Seer is happy to hear and grant all the wishes, but few are ready to pay the price.

Characters of The Desolation of Atahalnia

The Cult of The Dark Seer

The people of Desolation are not one race. Humans, elves, dwarves, dragonborn, kobolds, all races are welcome to make their home in the desolation, and many do indeed arrive to the holy city of Arikura to become disciples of the Dark Seer.

To become a disciple, one must brave the dangers of the Desolation, reach the seat of the Dark Seer, offer themselves and their lives to him and leave behind their past lives. The initiation is finished by painting the disciples bodies with black and white paint symbols, each unique to the individual. The disciples must wear these symbols at all times for the rest of their lives. Many choose to cover their entire bodies as a sign of devotion.

The disciples are expected to follow their superiors without question, and punishments are handed out frequently, ranging from assignments to menial tasks all the way to lashings. More severe punishments are rarely necessary, but not unheard of and often befit the crime.

The cult performs the same functions as any functional society would. Some work the mines and dig the wells that carry precious water into the city. Others run the city proper, cooking food, care for the wounded and clean the grounds.

Outside their regular tasks, some disciples are selected for martial tasks such as warriors, scouts and raiders. While the cult has no official standing army, they are nonetheless able to organize into sorties beyond the Desolation with great efficiency, when necessary.

Curiously enough, the disciples are not forbidden from leaving the cult, or even their gods. It is said that the Dark Seer has a path ready for everyone upon their initiation, even the ones that leave his dominion, and that all religions lead to him in the end.

However, when the dark seer commands the cult to do something, few dare to refuse his will. Sometimes the Dark Seer commands the cult to raid and ravage the lands surrounding the desolation. Other times he commands the warriors to stand down, even when a perceived enemy bears down on them. The order following another may completely contradict the previous one, but the cult follows it all the same, trusting the Seer’s vision.

Places of Interest:

The Desolation Proper

The Great desolation of Atahalnia is a land of extremes and ancient mysteries. It is located in the arid inland of the continent. The weather changes between extreme cold at night and extreme heat at day. What little precipation arrives often comes as snow during the winter months of the year.

An adventurer knows they have entered the desolation by seeing the ever increasing frequency of vertifacts peppering the landscape. They start small, but soon tower over the barren landscape, like gnarled, lumpy fingers reaching into the heavens.

The desolation is covered in pearly white sand, scattered and gathered by the constant winds that bite their way into every nook and crevice. These winds often gather into smaller dust devils that look from a distance like small but moving vertifacts, sometimes throwing off travelers off course when they mistake them for a real one marking their path in the otherwise barren landscape.

Occasionally these devils gather into monstrous sandstorms that rise like plateaus into the clouds above, plotting out the very sun, with winds strong enough to shear flesh from bone.

Small shrubs, cacti and thorny bramble trees are the only common vegetation in these lands. A weary traveler will often spot tumbleweeds rolling across the plains, gathering into messy piles in nooks of the canyons and dunes that make for excellent kindling for the daring adventurer to ward off the cold and dangers of the night.

And prepared you should be. Vampiric land-bats stalk the night, hiding under the sand from the blazing sun during the day. Their bites are almost impossible to detect while sleeping, and a swarm of them can quickly dehydrate a person in a land where water is more valued than gold in weight.

However, while the heat and light of a campfire will drive the small bloodsuckers away, they also attract more dangers. Scorpions and serpents are plenty in this otherwise dead landscape, most of them extremely venomous. It is advised that travelers wake up slowly and in a calm manner from their slumber to avoid scaring the critters, lest they retaliate with a deadly sting or bite.

If one is truly unlucky, they might stir the great terror of these lands, the great salt basilisk. These scaly beasts can hide for years under the sands and rocky formations, sometimes becoming indistinguishable from the land itself. The beast gets its namesake from the myriad of salt crystals that grow over its back like crystalline armor, often mistaken as regular mineral deposits scattered over the land. The older the individual, the larger the crystals tend to be.

Like a crocodile in a dune sea, the basilisk will lunge out, ambushing it’s unsuspecting prey. Its jagged teeth and monstrous jaws make short work of the unfortunate prey, and its craggy exterior makes it hard to wound. Tall tales exist of it’s ability to petrify foes that look upon it’s beady eyes, but none have been confirmed.

The Pallid Lake

If one is able to brave the attrition and dangers of the outer Desolation, they will arrive to the Pallid Lake. The land turns cracked and white beneath your feet, the saltflats extending like a great interior ocean in front of you.

Familiar vertifacts rise from the flats, but upon closer inspection you are able to distinguish that these rocky formations were not carved by the elements, but rather the skilled hands of masons. A well read scholar will recognize architectures of many eras and civilizations, with many familiar deities weather beaten rocky forms stubbornly holding onto their features, in a defiant struggle againt the gnawing teeth of time.

More gruesomely, petrified statues of humanoids and creatures you have seen and never seen are scattered between the buildings. Though the elements have long since stripped them of any recognizeable facial features or entire sections of their body, they all seem to be running away from the ruins, forefer frozen in time.

An uneasy, ghastly presence permeates the place, growing in intensity if one dares to brave the ruins and push deeper into the Desolation. The familiar architecture gives way to eldritch, non-euclidian architecture; broken stairways leading to the foot of the very same path, walls bleeding into one another and archways with no ends.

The salt statues of people give way to fresh corpses of adventurers, caravan traders and soldiers alike littering these structures, untouched by even the carrion birds. Many of them have poked out their own eyes or smashed their skulls against the rocks in desperation. Slowly but surely, their bodies decay away, drying up under the heat of the sun like cured meat. The salt crystallizes over the once wet spots of their bodies, while the wind tears the flesh off in tattered scraps, like torn, fleshy cloaks fluttering in the wind.

The Bleeding mountain & The Holy City of Arikura

The ones who make it through the Pallid Lake intact arrive to the base of the Bleeding mountain. While the mountain has been ground down by eons to little more of a tall, rounded mound, it still rises high above the surrounding wasteland and salt flats.

The mountain gets it’s namesake from the bright red soil and lichen that grow around the otherwise bright white bedrock protruding from it. Like a flayed body stretched over a rack, the smooth bedrock rises like the bumps of muscles against the fleshy tendons of the red foliage fanning around it.

Snaking up the mountain is a single path, stubbornly worn into the bedrock by the feet of determined pilgrims, armies and visitors alike. Signposts erected on piles of white and red rocks mark the journey at every mile.

A craggy mesa rises from the top of the plateau, where the great city of Arikura rests. No walls line the exterior of the great city, and at a quick glance, the city seems to offer a welcome respite from the inhospitable lands it finds itself nestled in. The smell of food and the sounds of civilization are enough to draw even the wariest of strangers toward the town, despite it’s eerie inhabitants.

The city is vertical, with elliptical, rounded buildings that mimic the eldritch architecture in the Pallid Lake below, with shapes bleeding into one another. The cone shaped roofs reach high into the sky, with wind catchers bringing fresh, cool air into the otherwise sun scorched streets and houses.

The paths of the city, like the buildings, lack straight lines. They curve and bend around the cobbled streets, leading to different sections of the town, dedicated to different crafts such as alchemy, scholars and blacksmiths.

One of the path leads outside the city to a cliff face that drops hundreds of meters below. Windmill powered lifts carry people and materials below to the basin, where a variety of resources are harvested: Sulfur and metals from deep below the rock, salt from the deposits at the base of the mountain, and guano from the arching caves that are host to the countless bats making them their homes. The guano is refined into saltpeter, a key ingredient for the nascent gunpowder present in the world.

The temple grounds & the seat of the Dark Seer

In the center of the city towers the sacred temple mound of Arikura. The Ziggurat that looms over the temple grounds is the residence and the seat of the Dark Seer, Lord of the Desolation of Atahalnia.

The temple grounds themselves are open to everyone, with a shrine dedicated for every deity of Argent Dawnia along the path spiraling up the mound to the Ziggurat. Curiously, no gates or checkpoints bar the entrance from anyone, and yet it is here that most adventurers seem to lose heart (or come to their senses, depending on who you ask) and turm back, citing the relentless feeling of the end hanging heavy upon the place. Even clerics of different deities may feel alone in these grounds, as if temporarily cut off from their deities.

The Ziggurat itself has the same eldritch masonry as the rest of the town. It’s walls have no visible seams and are rounded and elliptic in shape. A balcony towers above the main building, the tower corksrewing and expanding into a flat top like a great mushroom.

The inside of the Ziggurat is even more Bizarre. The building seems to expand into grand hallways that stretch so impossibly long that they couldn’t possibly fit inside the building, and yet they do. A circle surrounds the main audience chamber, made of stone walls and pillars. They make the seat look like an atrium. A dim, pale light somehow bleeds through the ceiling above, though there are no windows. Occasionally, bats flutter through the air, disappearikg into the dark alcoves above.

Candles and incense sticks on the ziggurat’s many altars and stations give the air a misty quality, with the shapes of the cultists and commoners alike appearing like wraiths to the eye from a distance.

Finally, at the center of the ziggurat lies the grand seat itself. The throne is made of a single, gnarled and hollowed out stump of an Kirktree, it’s roots spreading in the air above the one taking the seat like a halo of roots. Bats often hang by the roots while the Seer receives his visitors, said to whisper him stories from the afterlife.

Politics And War

The Desolation is ruled by the Dark Seer. What he says ultimately goes, but he does name administrators and chiefs to delegate some of the responsibilities to those he deems capable, or simply sets to the task. Merit is far from being the only means of attaining a position, and sometimes the Dark Seer’s choices can appear as random to outsiders.

That being said, politics do have a place in the Desolation. These politics take place in the respective designations of the cult, such as the sect of Labourers, War, Administration and Spies. They are mostly able to make their plays of power without oversight from the Dark Seer, unless he explicitly commands or forbids something.

The cultists are given free reign to raid the surrounding lands, but at the same time are told to offer hospitality and aid to pilgrims and travelers who request this. This unpredictability is what makes every interaction with the cult an uneasy encounter at best, and a deadly one at worst. Still, contacts, trade settlements and even friendships and more can blossom between outsiders and the cultists. Like the allure of a lover that is clearly bad for you, they draw you in.

When war is called for, it is often sudden, and rarely a planned for affair. But above all else, it is not declared. The wars can last anywhere between a few months to several decades, and the cult may join alliances or defect from them. They are, above all else, an apparent chaotic force that an allying dorce can merely hope to use for their own ends before they turn on them. But there are plans and goals woven into these tactics all the same, serving the greater goals of the cult.

Who rules the nation?

The Dark Seer of Arikura, Atahalni

Atahalni, the Dark Seer, is the effective lord and ruler of the Desolation. He is the immortal chosen of Arikura, god of Death.

Despite his moniker, Atahalni has died many times over the eons. Sometimes under the blade of an enemy, sometimes of old age and a few times by his very own hands.

But he has always returned, awakened in the body and mind of another disciple. Once reawakened, the disciple’s mind and spirit merge with the Dark Seer’s and all those that have come before them, granting them the promise of an immortal life, part of one immortal mind and soul.

The current body the Dark Seer resides in is a black dragonborn, a race that he seems to frequently choose as his vessel, and many indeed come to him as disciples, believing them to be his favoured race. He has chosen many other ones in the past as well however, ranging from elves to humans and dwarves and even a kobold.

The records of his countless past lives and their experiences are kept within the library of the grand Ziggurat, feverishly studied by disciples to try and learn the gift of immortality from them.

It is rumoured that in exchange for this incredible power and immortality, the Dark Seer orchestrated the many calamities over land and civilizations that resided here, until it was left to the state it is known for today. Thus was born the Desolation of Atahalnia.

While the Dark Seer has managed to carve out a kingdom befitting his god, many suspect he is not content with simply being contained in the desolation. His past lives have sometimes ventured into the world, leading great armies to reap the neighbouring lands and kingdoms, but either by withdrawal or defeat, the dark seer has always returned to the holy city.

Equally, many more kingdoms have attempted to thwart his foul rule and wipe out the cult, with varying levels of success. A legend tells of a great general that once braved the Desolation with his army, promising to rid the land of the scourge of the Dark Seer for good.

He massacred the armies of the cult to the last man. He razed the holy city to the ground. When the time came to face the Dark Seer himself, the Seer welcomed the general and his army, thanking them for their bloody pilgrimage and all the souls they had sent to his god.

Refusing to listen to him, the general cut the Dark Seer down with one swift stroke of his blade. Thinking he had vanguished Atahalni, the general and his forces were starting to celebrate, only to have one of the soldiers step out from the ranks and proclaim that he was the Dark Seer reborn.

The General cut the soldier down, but another soldier followed his example. No matter how many of his soldiers’ blood wet the steel of his blade that day, the Dark Seer would always step out of the ranks, possessing another of his soldiers.

Not willing to let the seer win, the general ordered a general decimation, causing an all-out bloodbath that wiped out his army to the last soul, as former brothers and sisters turned their blades on one another. Before the day was over, the streets ran red with rivers of blood. The blood soaked into the soil, giving the Bleeding Mountain it’s namesake.

The general, as the last living member of his forces, emerged from the bloodbath as a changed man. The Dark Seer of Arikura. Finally, his eyes had been opened. And thus, the cult endures to this date.

What is their army like?

The military of the cult, if it can be called that, is more of a horde than an actual military force. The numbers of the cult can swell very quickly at times and be decimated just as quickly, depensing on the outcome of the military operations.

Most commonly, the cultists form raids that fan out to wreak havoc as guerrila fighters against invading enemies or pillaging resources from the neighbouring nations. Other times, the cultists gather into a great horde to invade a neighbouring kingdoms, with varying levels of success.

The cult is not above and in fact frequently utilizes the services of different mercenary groups in the area. The deals are often mutually beneficial, with the mercenaries reaping great rewards while the cult reaches its goals. Sometimes mercenary captains are even placed in charge of the forces, and weapon masters, martial adepts and sorcerer supremes are treated extremely well in the holy city of Arikura, provided they teach their skills to the willing initiates.

In general, the cult places more emphasis on personal gains of power and individual goals above a coherent military structure. This means that the quality of the troops can vary greatly, with the elite ranking among the best duelists of their preferred fields in the world, while the meekest are little more than fodder for the flames of war.

Inspirations/Cultural Analogues:
Malazan Empire, Holy desert of Raraku, Gobi desert, Grand Canyon, The Thousand Needles, Conan the Barbarian, Arikara, the Spirit of Vengeance.

[Xynia-argent-dawn]

from Imgflip Meme Generator

More seriously, a very impressive and well thought out submission. I do like the intense attention to detail. Given the map we have already, it’d make sense for it to be to the immediate east of the currently detailed map.

It might take me a while to get round to drawing it all in though.

Not necessarily a problem, I vaguely recall GRR Martin avoided incorporating detailed maps into earlier editions of AsoIAF to reflect how real medieval people would’ve understood the world. They know these places exist, but no one has a detailed idea of where they are.

In the meantime I’ll try incorporate all the new lore you’ve added into the main codex.

If anyone else wants to help contribute, you’re all welcome to.

[Xynia-argent-dawn]

I’ve updated the main codex to incorporate the new lore Atahalni’s added.

I’ve realised as this world shapes up, it’s beginning to resemble something between a Soulslike and Team Ico/Fumito Ueda type setting.

Dark, but in a sad/tragic way. Vast plains overlooked by ruins long abandoned to life and sanity. People live, as best they can, in spite of the sorrow.

There are many more monsters than there are men and women, and many men and women who are also monsters.

If there’s any lore you’d like to contribute, for example:

1. How do magic, and the planes, work? The Fel seems to be a thing here. Can that exist alongside The Weave? What are the meanings of Light and Dark, Good and Evil, Order and Chaos? What do they look like here?

2. Why do parts of this world resemble Azeroth?

3. What illegal drugs, criminal factions, cults or guilds ply the lines between the kingdoms?

4. The history of the world, how did things end up this way?

5. What is the world’s biggest threat, darkest secret, or one, last, best hope?

You’re also welcome to add them, scrapbook-style, to this thread. Think of this as a shared writing project. You don’t need my say-so to implement what you’d find cool.

I’m also curious as to what Argent Dawn would make if put in charge of a Science Fiction/Space Opera setting a la Star Wars, Star Trek, Warhammer 40K, etc. That’d make an interesting thread for someone else to make.

[Atahalni-argent-dawn (Atahalni)]

Thank you for the kind words: I will be fleshling out the religion of the cult a bit more in the future, but for now I wanted to contribute to the mercenary companies with the following submission:

Mercenary Company - The Chosen of Arikura

The chosen of Arikura are the 11 immortal champions of Arikura. Much like the moniker of the Dark Seer, the title of immortality is somewhat misleading: The chosen have all died countless times, but never at the same time, and have always emerged in new initiates after they have passed.

The ritual they partook bound their souls together and allows the Chosen to split their consciousness into willing initiates of Arikura, possessing their bodies. The ritual results in the minds and souls of the host and the chosen to merge, granting the initiated the immortality the cult promises. This has led to thousands of years of knowledge, ranging from the mundane to martial, to accumulate in these Chosen, making them exceptional in both combat itself as well as other tasks.

When a chosen dies in battle, his being merges with one of the other chosen. Once this merging happens, the chosen can be passed onto another initiates’ willing body through an eldritch ritual. The ritual is sacred and known only to the Cult of Arikura, taught to the Chosen by the Dark Seer himself thousands of years ago. So long as even one of the 11 champion lives, the remaining 10 champions can be bound to new, willing initiate bodies to be born anew.

The honour to become a chosen is second only to being chosen by the Dark Seer to be his new vessel in the cult. It breeds both fierce competition among the initiates and encourages them to perform feats that garner the attention of the Chosen, to be selected as the new host and to join the thousands of souls that live eternally, away from the gaping maw of the end.

However, should all the chosen ever be slain at the same time, they and all the souls they have merged with would be lost forever.

It is curious then that the Chosen are a mercenary company, and not the personal guard or extension of the Dark Seer’s will; That is, he does not command them, or if he does, it is not known. Instead, the Chosen of Arikura employ themselves as mercenaries all around the world, bringing true death to anybody they fight against: Men, monsters and demon alike.

What is even more curious is the fee the Chosen work for, which at the best of times seems random, and at times heavy in irony. Once, the chosen tithed a great king for the most precious thing he possessed, in return for annihilating an encroaching army. The most precious thing the king had were not the treasures he housed beneath his own palace, but the life of his only daughter. Another time, the chosen fought for a janky village of peasants caught between two plundering armies for little more pay than a sack of potatoes, cutting through each force like a scythe reaping the field, and the village was spared.

The tithe does not look at a man’s purse or status, however, nor how are they aligned. The Chosen claim to have fought in battles ranging from minor border disputes all the way to battles that have decided the fates of entire empires or gods. Both the righteous and the wicked have been at either ends of the blades of the Chosen more times than one can count.

Their arrival is often as mysterious as is their recruitment. Sometimes years, even decades can pass in a corner of the world with little more than a whisper about the Chosen of Arikura, to the point that people begin to forget if they ever existed in the first place, or if they were mere old wives’ tales.

That is, until they arrive. Dressed in their striking, black and white armor and flying the colours of the Desolation of Atahalnia. Their presence immediately brings dread and promise of death; Whether it will be yours or your enemies, who knows?

Sometimes they appear when all hope seems lost, to carry forth a bloody, gruelling victory against the enemy. Sometimes they arrive before the conflict and their very presence is enough to qualm both sides from fighting. The more urgent the situation, the heavier is the toll that must often be paid.

The most common way the Chosen are recruited with is by striking a deal with the Dark Seer Atahalni, who brokers agreement between the client and the chosen.

After their business is finished, the Chosen often disappear just as quickly as they arrived, as if guided by a divine hand to their next contract. If any of the Chosen have been slain, they depart for the Holy city of Arikura to replenish their numbers. The chosen travel by both land, sea and air, depending on the resources available to them at the time and the environment they find themselves in. While they can fan out and operate alone, the chosen are never far from one another.

The Chosen go by many names to both outsiders and even between one another. The names are also interchangeable, with many champions claiming the same name for one encounter, likely due to shared experiences and past lives. The race of each champion is also dependent on the current body of the initiate they are playing host to; As with their lord, Dragonborn are the most sought after form the chosen walk around as, but they have taken many visages over the years, including humans, minotaur, pandaren and elves.

Once hired, the Chosen of Arikura often work independently from their patron’s forces, rarely planning with the one who hired them, but it is not unheard of. Most often the chosen are used to hammer and anvil enemy forces in devastating flanking manoeuvres, alpha strike at the leader(s) of the army either during a battle or in an assassination attempt, or to hold a chokepoint for the rest of the forces.

The weapons and armour the champions of Arikura wear into battle can vary greatly, but they are often of legendary quality and power. The Chosen rarely name or get attached to them however, as unlike their immortal spirits and minds, after an excruciatingly brutal encounter, the weapons and armour are often lost forever or broken beyond repair. This forces the Chosen to travel the land to the best master craftsmen of different fields to equip themselves for their tasks.

While the chosen do not boast of having ever lost a battle, they do spread tales of their exploits and immortality to the far corners of the world, inspiring more believers to give their lives to the god of death and his messiah Atahalni, and live eternal.

[Xynia-argent-dawn]

I’ve incorporated the Chosen of Arikura into the Codex.

I hope the summary is concise enough.

They sound like an intriguing set of villains, reminds me of Darth Nihilus from KOTOR 2 for some reason.

[Thuzar-argent-dawn (Thuzar)]

@Xynia-argent-dawn

How do magic, and the planes, work? The Fel seems to be a thing here. Can that exist alongside The Weave? What are the meanings of Light and Dark, Good and Evil, Order and Chaos? What do they look like here?

From “Origin of the Arcane Traditions” - by Kefarian Goldflame of Thuzaradin, Ninth Finger of the Hand.

… In essence, magic is the process of imposing and bending reality to a desired outcome through imagination.

To understand the process in simple terms, imagine yourself in a lucid dream. Within a lucid dream, you are keenly aware that the reality you inhabit will bend to your desire with a mere thought. In effect, magic applies this state of being to the waking world.

It is commonly understood that there are limits to what you can accomplish within a dream, such as reading a book. However, if one is lucid and imaginative enough, they can determine the words in the book and know what they are without reading them. In effect, by shifting your mind to no longer perceive the words but instead recall what they are, you alter the page to become that which you know it is, as opposed to what it might have been originally. In simple terms, if you happen upon a tome of alchemy in a dream, you can, through lucid control, alter the tome into a book of arcane basics. In doing so, you will know what it contains, and rather than reading the title, you will know the title from prior memory of it.

Magic works on the same principle. As you channel, you also alter the very perception of the building blocks that make up the world. You conjure fire without friction, you summon water without a source of liquid, and you alter rock and stone into shapes they always had, as determined by you. The world bends to your whim as if you were in a lucid dream.

This is, of course, a gross oversimplification of the process to help you understand the complex mindset required to perform magic. It first and foremost requires a great deal of imagination and creativity, not to mention the ability to detach oneself from the tethers of what is and is not true on a fundamental level. Thus, to perform magic is to deny everything that you know is true and insert your own truth in its place.

It should go without saying that it requires a special kind of mindset to perform magic. However, that is not the only way to perform it. Long ago, clever magi discovered they could write down their thoughts into less complex guides, spelling out the method in simple terms. These spells simplify the thought patterns in ways that allow even the most mediocre of magi to grasp and navigate the shaping of reality.

However, as no two individuals share the exact same thought pattern, this development has resulted in a bloated number of spell variants. On its own, I know thirty different firebolt spells. Each of them varies slightly, as do their methods. Some create smaller flames, some extend the range, some change the color and composition, and some even split the bolt into a multitude of smaller bolts. However, what they all have in common is the tangible bolt of fire the spell creates.

For all its complexities, a process designed to produce a firebolt will always create a bolt of fire. To put it in simpler terms, if three individuals invented the wheel, their methods would differ. However, the result would always be something similar to, or definable as, a wheel. …

(I decided to add some thoughts on how arcane magic works in-universe, but framed as a theory to give room for other interpretations.)

[Xynia-argent-dawn]

I’ve added a new section to the OP, to incorporate these lore and story posts.

I like the decision to frame it as a theory, because I always think fantasy’s more interesting when you leave things to the imagination, and allow the observer to cleave what they can from unreliable sources.

[Xynia-argent-dawn]

An idea came to me as to why this world has an odd resemblance to Azeroth.

The idea I have is that at some point, near the time-frame of Dragonflight, an expedition drawing upon both Horde and Alliance was attempted to cross the Forbidding Sea via travelling south-east from Pandaria in a large flotilla.

At some point during their journey, they fell through an arcane rift into the Twisting Nether itself. The ship was buckled through its infinite chaos, and eventually one of the mages, a brave individual, sacrificed themselves to rescue them from the tides of sorcery.

Hence, they, including the largely Pandarian crew, landed on the shores of another universe. As they did so, the magical forces of their world leaked forth.

Rather than clashing or causing an incursion with the metaphysical laws of ArgentDawnia, the essence of The Nether instead flowed out and rested atop of it, like a layer of oil floating upon water.

The Light, The Void, Arcane, Fel, Nature, Death, Spirit, Decay, merged, leading to two seperate arcane traditions.

Over centuries, the Azerothians and the ArgentDawnians intermingled and creolized with the natives, to the point only the most learned of scholars remember Azeroth was ever a place.

There are scraps of the old world’s culture, such as names, and vague myths, but less is known than has been forgotten.

[Xynia-argent-dawn]

No updates on the map, sadly, but I do want to plug Daggerheart. I’ve been trying to use it, and I’ve found it’s a way more streamlined system than D&D 5E without compromising the depth.

So good in fact, that you can’t actually buy it physically because it’s sold out.

You can still submit nations to be included in this world, just expect them to be directly bordering The Desolation of Atahalnia. Think of what that means for the nation in terms of climate and geography.

You’re surrounded by bad neighbours, and there ain’t a whole lot of fertile land to go around.

[Atahalni-argent-dawn (Atahalni)]

@Xynia-argent-dawn

What are the meanings of Light and Dark, Good and Evil, Order and Chaos? What do they look like here?

The Genesis of the world, according to the Cult of Arikura

(I premise this further by statikg that this is what the Cult teaches and believes, it does not mean that it reflects the reality)

According to The cult of Arikura, the world we know today was once the dead remains of a world that was before. As it lay in the aether, it’s rotting, putrid reek attracted a great carrion bird.

The vulture punctured the bloated belly of the corpse with it’s beak.

From the now open, fetid wound of the corpse spilled out the world as we know it. The land formed from it’s meat, rivers snaked through the land like guts. Blood pooled to form oceans, and mountains rose from the exposed bones.

The vulture laid an egg over the carrion and flew off, which on the 11th day cracked open, spilling forth great things.

From the yolk came sun and light that illuminated the world: The goddess of life, Aion.

From the white came the moon and the night sky: Arikura, the god of death.

Finally, from the shell came together the medium that held all things together: Kektun, the god of time.

Aion saw the world empty and barren, and wished for it to be lush and fertile. Arikura wanted all things to pass and preferred the quiet of the world.

The two were at an impasse, but the wise Kektun brokered a peace between them, promising that he would give time fairly to both siblings. All of creation would exist for a time, but Arikura would await everyone at their journey’s end. Thus was the pact of eons born.

For some time, the balance was maintained, and the cycle of life and death was in harmony. But Aion grew possessive of her creations and their lives. Like an overbearikg mother, Aion demanded more time for her children from Kektun and Arikura.

Obviously, Arikura refused, demanding his tithw of souls to continue. Kektun also refused, wishing to preserve the delicate balance between life and death.

Infuriated with the decision, Aion wanted to kill Arikura, so that she could let her creations live forever. However, Aion knew that she would not be strong enough to defeat both Arikura and Kektun together, so long as the pact stood.

Aion left, angry and frustrated at the state of things. She cursed her greedy brother for demanding her childrens’ lives ro sustain himself, and the other one for standing up for him.

It was then that Aion saw the vulture that had laid forth the world fluttering across the sky. The battered old bird was haggard, it’s feathers’ as pale as death itself and skin hanging like a burial veil upon it’s festures. The very thing that had given birth to this world was dying.

Aion spoke to the vulture, asking why such a divine being was dying. The vulture answered that it had chosen to die, because that was the cycle that the siblings had agreed to. From life would come death, and from death, life.

Aion pleaded with the vulture, asking for a way to circumvent death, so that nothing would have to die again. The vulture warned Aion of such a path: Upsetting the balance they had held for so long would bear bitter fruit not only for the mortals, but the gods as well.

Aion insisted for an answer from the dying beast, and finally, it reluctantly responded. The vulture explained that she could give birth to immortal gods like herself, who could only be touched by death with her consent, as all life was her domain. The vulture pleaded with Aion not to choose this path one last time, warning her of the consequences, before dying.

Aion watched the divine beast that had once given life to her and her two brothers fade from this world. It caused great despair in her. She flew into rage, her divine light shining so bright it scorched the earth and boiled the seas.

Aion vowed to end the tyranny of death, and ensure no more of her children would ever die again. Aion then went into labour amd gave birth to the first divine beings that would not be touched by death, sharing in her essence: The first of the many false gods, many of whom still exist to date.

Aion watched proudly as immortal children carved out their own domains in the world, gaining many worshippers and leading entire empires. Even as their followers fell to the cycle, her children were timeless and could not be touched by death.

However, the balance had been upset. Aion kept giving life to more and more gods. This made the other gods’ jealous of one another, until a war sparked out between them, as they laid claim to more and more of the world’s finite worshippers and other resources.

These false gods wreaked battles of titanic proportions against one another and their followers, ravaging the world. Divine blood spilled from the aether and onto the world, giving rise to magic as the mortals know it.

Thus begun the age of the immortals, a time of tyranny and strife that left it’s marks all over the once prosperous world. For many cultures and religions, this is known as the first sundering, where the first great civilizations collapsed, consumed by the very gods they once worshipped, their lives left destitute.

Kektun wept at the state of the world and pleaded with Aion to stop, as the once beatiful land was now ravaged and broken by her god-children’s trampling. He pleaded with her to allow Arikura to cull the mad gods drunk with power, lest they consume the whole world.

Aion refused, and the two siblings began to fight.

Their battle shook the heavens. The fight shook the very fabric of reality, as each blow that landed on Aion made the sun flutter in brightness and bleed out bursts of flames that snaked across the sky, casting bright auroras across the whole world. In turn, the wounds of Kektun caused rifts to appear into the world where past, present and the future existed in one place at the same time, driving those caught in their paths mad at the horrors they witnessed

In the end however, with the help of the false gods, Aion overpowered Kektun and slew him. A mounrful dirge sounded from the god of time, as the balance they had crafted was shattered. His essence drifted away and scattered into the darkness, in the cold embrace of his brother, Arikura.

With the death of Kektun, Aion planned to grow the world into an immortal, lush garden of harmony, where none would ever perish again. But before she could do that, she had to find and finish off Arikura.

With righteous zeal in her eyes, Aion turned her burning gaze upon the world, and commanded her children to find Arikura. They set out like the fanning rays of the sun, scouring the world for the god of death.

But the god of death could not be found. No matter how much she shone her light upon the world, Aion couldn’t find Arikura. His shadows were always faster than her light, and his absence evaded her presence.

Eventually, Aion became convinced that Arikura was too afraid to challenge her, and seized the hunt. She returned to her creation, birthing life uncontrollably into the world with her god-children, and turning the world into an oasis of life.

For a brief while, life bloomed from the ashes of the first sundering. But this would not last. As the false gods bred uncontrollably, they soon exhausted all the resources of the world. When they ran out of sustenance, life begun to feed on life, and the gods turned their greedy eyes on one another.

The war of the divine saw the rise and consumption of entire pantheons. This is known as the second sundering in the lore of the world, where gods that could not die gnawed on eachothers flesh, consuming one another like pack of rats trapped in a bucket. It is said that fel magic was born in this chaos, as a twisted form of magic spawned from the consumption of life itself.

Horrified at what the world was turning into, Aion’s clarity came too late for her. She sought to defeat her children before they would consume all of existance, but there were so many of them, all drunk from the taste of divine flesh. Like a pack of wolves, Aion’s own children turned on their creator and began to tear her to pieces.

The very sun begun to dim in the sky, taking on a putrid, rust-red colour as Aion tried to fend off her rabid children. In her desperation, Aion cried out for her brother Arikura to save her.

And the darkness whispered in answer. Arikura offered to help his sister, but only if she submitted herself and all her creations to his rule. Aion refused, and continued her struggle.

As the battle wore on, Aion’s body was in tatters and in agonizing pain as the other gods consumed her divine body- And yet, she could not die.

Her screams joined the thousands of other lesser gods that had already been consumed, their hellish screams echoing across the aether. It is said that this agony and torment gave rise to demons and the hells themselves.

In the end, as the sun had all but winked out, Aion begged for death and submitted herself and her creations to Arikura. The god of death answered.

In an instant, he rushed from the darkness and absence of presence, tearing into the false gods like a scythe across a field, felling many and driving the others to flee. He cast down many into the earth, the seas and other planes below, mercilessly murdering all that got in his way.

But Arikura did not slay Aion. He knit the broken goddess of life together like a patchwork construct, and revealed his plans for her.

For the rest of time, Arikura would hang over her and the rest of creation as the silent executioner. Death could be tomorrow, in a year, or an eon, but he was inevitable: For mortals and gods alike.

Aion would be allowed to continue to spawn life, like raising lambs for slaughter. Aion wept and asked why Arikura didn’t just end it all there, as he had won the divine gamble.

Arikura explained that while souls of the dead sated his hunger, he had also grown very fond of other sustenance as well: Deaths with meaning. He had grown fond of the lives of mortals while hiding in the shadows and darkness feom his sister, and now preferred their noise over the silence of the grave.

Arikura does not care whether a life is lived long or short, good or bad. All he cares for is that life has a purpose. Like a great feast, Arikura wants to be sated not only for the sustenance the souls offer, but also their rich flavours from their experiences.

He does not care which gods his subjects keep to. He knows he could wink them out whenever he wishes, but chooses not to, so long as they and their followers amuse him.

Both genuine fear of death and welcoming one’s end are the greatest prayers one can offer to Arikura. He smiles at the spent and grins at the defiant. Meek or mighty, he welcomes all.

Arikura then left Aion, bidding her and the remaining false gods farewell. He disappeared into the shadows, always present wherever Aion’s light didn’t touch the world.

One day, Arikura would return to reap the world itself. For the only thing that was certain in life in Argent Dawnia, was death.

[Xynia-argent-dawn]

The Nelthazene Model of the Planes
by Lector Garibaldi of the Grand Academy of Fel’Thuzar

This model of the Planes was first proposed and later iterated on by the Sixth Council of Nelthazar. This model of the Planes has been challenged extensively by scholars in the Confederation of the Krasarang, whose mages maintain their own radically different cosmological model, and broadly accepted in the Magocracy of Alerhionia, albeit presented (falsely) as their own theory.

Debates between western and eastern magicians have turned violent in the past, such are the controversies when debating the worlds beyond or between the worlds. They speak of life, death, and the hereafter in a way many people may find disquieting, if not blasphemous.

It is thankful then, that we dwell in a land where all may think as they wish.

The Nelthazene Model goes as thus -

Our Reality

The physical world is the Material Plane. It is defined by adhering to consistent physical and magical laws, instilled by The-Gods-Before, the first children of the present kalpa, a loose union of The Primordials, the Old Titans and Dragons whose primeval squabbles during the Age of Chaos set the universe’s shape into being.

As they were born before time itself, they have no beginning and cannot truly die. Dragons or Titans that perish simply reawaken aeons, centuries, decades or weeks later as part of a grand, Samsara-like cycle. Those that stay relatively inert after being killed are often imperfect, flawed from having absorbed the essence of mortality in some form.

It is the Old Ones’ lingering thoughts and dreams, even in a state of hibernation or meditation, that maintain this stable, purposefully imperfect reality.

The Dragons are the ageless source of time, change and transformation, the Old Titans were the progenitors of life and the laws of physics, The Primordials are the ideal forms of The Elements, who compose all things and their natures.

Terran (Inner) Planes

• The Soulplane (now named as the Shadow Realm) is the former destination of deceased souls awaiting rebirth. Now it is a stagnant and sinister place, infested with the most intense, grotesque memories and traumas of the formerly living as their souls are drawn through the Omnichrome, like filth being wringed from a sponge.

• The Hypnic Plane (or Faerie) are the last remains of the first, original world, that some say was a great, crystal flower. It’s the land of the subconscious, where all the dreams, nightmares, and forgotten memories of the living flow to. In this realm, there is no such thing as time. It is a place where the laws of physics aren’t quite so ordered. Emotion and memory define reality. It is filled to the brim with spirits that aren’t especially good or evil as we might understand, just a reflection of the collective unconscious and the many archetypes held within.

Sidereal (Outer) Planes

• The Primespring, Low Sidereal, Penumbric Plane, or Void, is the original, disordered well of Chaos from which the elements first emerged, the First Flower grew, and is argued by the Primalic School of Scholars to be the true source of all magic. It is an infinite sea of utter pale-black oblivion surrounding a bright corona of clashing, scintillating elemental energies – the seed of creation.

Pockets of order form the Elemental Planes, which act as the model for every physical force or motion in the material world. It is a place of ceaseless conflict, as each primal power attempts to seize dominance.

• Eternity, The High Sidereal, Malakut or The Outer Spheres consist of all the Heavens, Hells, and the imaginal planes between. Their laws and nature draw upon the beliefs, morality and thoughts of mortals to give them form and purpose. Cares, expectations, hopes and fears all flavour and shape these infinite domains. Every devil of The Hells and Angel of the Heavens was once a mortal, all other inhabitants of these realms are perfect ideals of entities or concepts, without -nuance- or -rationality- to impede them. It is the source of divine and profane magic.

Connective (Through) Planes

The Omnichrome, also known as The Nether or Astral Plane, forms the chaotic dimensional tissue between The Sidereal and the Terran Realms and all that lay between them. Its appearance is different to each individual who gazes upon it, some gaze upon a storm-lashed vortex of stars and lurid colours, others see a tranquil azure firmament stretching forever.

It surrounds the physical universe like an envelope, and acts as both a muscle (in that it gives the universe shape and motion) and like an artery in that it draws upon the faith and psyches of thinking creatures, drawing them up to empower and shape the Sidereal deities and dimensions on the outside.

Since The Betrayal, the spirits of the dead are forcibly drawn up through the Omnichrome into the High Sidereal, passing through the Soulplane. The Nether touches everywhere in creation and beyond it, allowing travel even to other worlds and realities both familiar and hostile to life and sanity.

The tension between the Omnichrome and the Material Plane creates the Aethereal Abyss as a kind of vibration between them. The latter plane is often hollowed out to create myriad demi planes for various purposes.

The Celestial School of scholars, vaunted by Alerhionia theorise these connective planes are the true source of most sorcery, creating an energy field that magicians pluck from, which must be maintained in a state of balance to be effective.

I apologise the map is taking so long.

You can still submit new kingdoms and nations to the setting if you’d like to. Remember, these will directly border the Desolation of Atahalnia.

Here’s another book to chew on, in the meanwhile!

[Bohorok-argent-dawn]

Nation/Kingdom Name: Shogunate of Bohorok
Government Type: In Theory: Hereditary Monarchy, In Practice: Feuding Tribal Warlords united under the Shogun.
Coat of Arms or Banner: An Ash Hulk skull,painted with Clan Symbols
Capital: Arokar, Tower of The Sun

Ethnic Groups/Species: 40% Minotaur, 10% Ixi’kir (Scorpion-Men), 15% Dragonborn, 10% Genasi, 10% Loxo (Elephant-Men), 8% Infernis/Tieflings, 5% Kobolds, 2% Miq’ote.
Religions: Ammunal (75%), Flayed God (5%), The Celestials (5%), Creole Religion (5%)
Imports Foodstuffs, Tea, Spices, Weapons & Armour, Clockwork Devices
Exports Ivory, Scavenged Artefacts, Mercenaries, Elemental Crystals, Textiles, Wine
Hallmarks: Storm-Lashed Mountains, Warring Clans, Towering Fortress-Bridge Cities
Signature Weapon: - Juk’kalak - A huge, two-handed iron mace with a spear-like spike, resembling a cross between an aspergillum and a morningstar. Sacred water crystals are inset inside the weapon, causing it to spray and burn demons and darkspawn moments before its wielder pulverizes them.
National Dish: Maxhual, A spicy stew of rice, meat or fish and dried fruit cooked in butter and traditionally served in a corn husk.

Interesting Things About Bohorok

1. Upon the south edge of The Desolation a crescent of mountains with deep canyons protected by angular towers, walls, and great gates rises. Beyond this bulwark lies a realm of colourful grasses and gnarled, blossom-filled pine forests, and deep lakes cradled by lightning-scarred peaks and crags. Luminous elemental crystals jut from the rocks and deep pools, painting the land in hues of magical light.

2. Before The Desolation spread, the Empire of Ikao was once one of the jewels of humanity, among the most ancient nations. The first spellbooks were inscribed on bound strips of dire reeds, swords and spears and broad shields of bronze were hammered in its forges by sorcerer smiths. The humans are all gone, now.

3. Monumental statues are carved into the cliffs, of an ancient sage named Tunama who preached a philosophy of balance between Light and Dark. After The Desolation, the people turned away from the Dark to the Light of Ammunal with traumatised desperation, and Tunama’s name is largely forgotten. Sacrificial fires burn atop the towers of monolithic strongholds that rise above the valleys like labyrinthine obelisks linked by immense chains.

Characters of Bohorok

1. Most of the people of Bohorok are clans of minotaur warriors battling for supremecy, and various tribal villages who live under their rule and protection. A complex caste system exists, with various levels of promotion and demotion. Honour is everything, as a result both slavery and gunpowder are strictly prohibited. The clans continually war, but follow strict rules known as The Codes, and will always unite against outside threats, especially those from The Desolation. Mages are treated with suspicion, and those consorting with demons or entities of darkness are usually killed on sight.

2. The High Empress allegedly rules over Bohorok as a semi-divine figure, but the Shogun is the true lord of the land. Beneath him are the Xor’thim (Sun Priests), Clan Daimyos (Khen’hu) and the Ur’Hakra (Eagle Warriors) who serve them, Craftsmen and Commoners (Kal’thul, Nuk’thul). At the lowest levels of are Thil’koh (Merchants) and Axil’ath (The Soulless), who are painted white with ash and sent out into The Desolation to slaughter shadow-spawn and demons until they find death or redemption.

3. The colourful people wear masks, marked with the symbols of their caste and clan, and barter in the bridge-bazaars of the Clanholds. The bridges and cliffs that connect the keeps are cleverly engineered, strong and vast enough to host beautiful hanging gardens laden with fruit; dates, almonds, pisatchios, figs, tamarinds, pears and quinces, olives and grapes and entire pueblos of adobe dwellings.

4. Airships draped with fabrics and bells drift amongst the immense towers and arches. The people dress themselves in bones, elemental gemstones and shining veils of polished bronze and gold scales. Every temple burns with sacred flame. The lush terraces flow with glistening aqueducts and hanging fields of rice, corn, and orchards. Everyone is muscular and physical altercations are common.

Places of Interest:

1. The greatest stronghold is Arokar, Tower of The Sun, where The Emperor or Empress dwells in a golden, crystalline palace filled with every kind of mortal delight. It is encased in seven spires that blaze with blazing holy fires that burn back the corruption of The Desolation, fed by the hearts and skulls of those slain in the bloody clan wars.
2. The caverns underneath Bohorok are filled with quarrelling elementals and ancient ruins. The Dragonborn and Genasi have found a niche for themselves as miners and jewellers, using their natural resistance to the elements to extract ancient treasures and magical crystals from the caves and their furious inhabitants.
3. The southern coastline is dotted with quaint white-washed fishing villages filled to the brim with Tieflings, who settled here with The Emperor’s blessing an age ago. They are a common place for ships to stop and rest on their long, dangerous voyages to Krasarang and are occassional targets for pirates and slavers.

Politics And War

1. Who rules the nation?

The current High Empress is Thuxos of the Snowhides, a gloriously fat Minotauress with six horns and three eyes, her long life and endless boredom have led to her experimenting with magical mutation, infusing herself with different kinds of sorcery in an attempt to discover new senses. She entertains a continual retinue of artists, concubines, creatives, and hanger-ons large enough to be a clan in themselves. Truthfully, she lives in a gilded cage.

The true ruler is Morxos of the Redhorn, a pragmatic and spartan warrior of intense brutality and cold calculation. While he fronts as an honourable warlord, he commands a vast army of highly trained assassins and spies who ensure he knows the moves of every Clan, so that they cannot act against him.

2. What is their army like?

Ur’Hakra are trained from birth to fight and die for their Clan Lords, and live and breathe every moment either in battle or preparing their bodies and minds for it. Unlike the knights of Alerhiona or Coltheim, chivalry matters less than guile and cunning. Cowardice and prudence are not disparaged if it leads to victory, but death must never be denied, and underhanded tactics such as magic, artillery or poison are scorned.

They are named ‘Eagle Warriors’ as they are draped in feathers, gaining one for each foe they manage to successfully capture and drag back to the temple fires for sacrifice. Many wear trophies made from the bones and scales of their slain foes, and can wield Juk’Kalak Maces as though they were light weapons. Many combine these with crossbows that shoot bolas, or long single-edged blades of elementally folded Water-Steel, so named for the bands of carbon that ripple along their edges.

They are normally backed up by vast ranks of Shul’Hakra, (‘Wolf Warriors’), commoners who have been drafted from the terraces and fields. There is no such thing as a ‘civilian’ in Bohorok, as everyone is taught how to fight. They usually wield bows, pole-axes, two-handed swords and macuahuitl - wooden clubs inset with shards of elemental crystal.

Sun Priests act as healers and adjudicators, and bear loyalty to no single clan, providing mending and castigating those who break The Codes. Attacking them is strictly forbidden. It is only against The Desolation they truly take to battle, calling upon the power of Ammunal to burn the dark forces that batter against Bohorok’s walls.

The most elite warriors are the Bor’Hakra, (Serpent Warriors). These are made of Soulless who have returned redeemed, having ‘shed’ the scales of their sins. Wearing masked robes and agilely wielding crystalline double-swords, they have no names, no faces, and fight with tranquil fury against the enemies of truth, wielding Holy Fire as avatars of Ammunal.

Inspirations/Cultural Analogues:
The American Southwest, Pre-Columbian Mexica, Sengoku-era Japan, Aksumite Ethiopia, Inca Architecture & Culture, Maurya-Era Afghanistan, Stonetalon Peak.

[Atahalni-argent-dawn (Atahalni)]

An excellent submission. The shogunate reminds me of Hotek, the usurper minotaur emperor from Dragonlance Minotaur War trilogy.

[Desartin-argent-dawn (Desartin)]

One of these days ill add my own kingdom. I got started on it but got sidetracked especially, with paladin, you end up pretty close to ‘generic human fantasy kingdom’

[Xynia-argent-dawn]

My advice is - don’t overthink it.

What makes it different from ‘generic human fantasy kingdom’ is that it is -your- generic human fantasy kingdom. Bring what you like and find cool to the table, and rest will sort itself out.

None of the Human kingdoms in WoW are that different from each other. As a consequence of Warcraft 2’s design, they’re all anglophile (or at least, Eurocentric), and have similar armies (footmen, archers/riflemen, knights, etc.), architecture and culture.

Despite this, roleplayers and art design has helped differentiate them quite a bit since then to the point you could easily point out the differences.

I’d think of Medieval Total War. Germany and France were both European kingdoms, but they’re quite different in terms of cadence and ‘vibe’ despite a similar set of parts.

[Atahalni-argent-dawn (Atahalni)]

You write well from what I know so I am quite sure it would be great. If anything, against all thw horrors of this setting, some mundane humans are a nice thing.

[Desartin-argent-dawn (Desartin)]

@Atahalni-argent-dawn

You write well from what I know so I am quite sure it would be great. If anything, against all thw horrors of this setting, some mundane humans are a nice thing.

Thanks, I still got it saved, so I’ll pick it up again soon to add to this horrific continent!

[Malorgoth-argent-dawn]

Nation/Kingdom Name: Overlordship of Malorgoth
Government Type: Tribal Chiefdom, Several Clans United Under A Warchief, Vassal States
Coat of Arms or Banner: A yellow clawed hand with a blue eye at its centre, on black field.
Capital: Khargor

Ethnic Groups/Species: 55% Orcs, 15% Half Orcs, 10% Fire Giant, 10% Tabaxi, 5% Human, 5% Desert Dwarf
Religions: Orcish Shamanism (85%), Creole Religion (10%), 5% Flayed God
Imports Ore, Coal, Timber, Meat, Foodstuffs, Spirits, Spices, Gemstones, Elemental Crystals, Dragon Skins, Wine
Exports Spiced Bloodmead, Rum, Ivory, Weapons, Armour, Siege Weapons, Sulphur, Naphta Oil, Desert Monster Venom
Hallmarks: Peaceful Lowlander Orcs, War-like Highlander Orcs, Lush Desert
Signature Weapon: Irakk - A thick, cleaver-like sword designed to chop, sever and smash through anything in its way. Can be made in one or two-handed varieties.
National Dish: Roast Pork, marinated in honey and desert herbs, cooked in one pot with tubers, carrots and various mushrooms.

Interesting Things About Malorgoth

1. Two cultures of Orcs share rule over this warm and colourful peninsula. The land is dry but the slightest amount of river water or rainfall turns it richly fertile. The parched hills bloom, and groves of flame hued cacti and blossoming rose meadows feed huge mound-hives of crimson bees, a source of exceptional honey, raw material for the spiced bloodmead for which the land is so famed. This is a land of fire. Natural asphalt wells and sulphur springs broil and hiss. Gas flares from cracks in the soil, sometimes causing brush fires that fill the dusk horizon with smoke.

2. The lowlander Orcs have always been gentle, living alongside the narrow, lush Ejo’Kajar River growing rice, cactus fruits and rearing herds of ostrich and boar beneath the palms in the shadow of their pyramid temples. Their thatched sandstone and wood buildings are warmly painted, draped with daubed hides, the skulls and carapaces of desert beasts. The most beautiful dwellings are nearest the marshes’ edge or along the sandy coast, like great palaces woven from reeds that sometimes float on the water’s surface. After hard, hot days of work they smoke and recline in fragrant gardens of jasmine, marigolds and geraniums. Their society may appear primitive to human eyes, but it is peaceful.

3. The highland Orcs are not. Ruling from crooked citadels in the hills they protect their domain from their former Dominion masters, forging brutal weapons and tough armour of black steel with the aid of the cave-dwelling fire giants. The arid crags are rich with dark iron and gold. In return for protecting them from threats on the surface, the Desert Dwarves mine this material from deep underground for the Orcs, allowing them to create beautiful golden black armour.

Characters of Malorgoth

1. The Highland Clans are the Lost Legion, and fight for their right to survive. The sins of the past can never be cleansed, and the ways of peace remain new and unfamiliar to them, but the Orcs are stoic, patient, and disciplined to the last. On some distant shore of time, they may yet find redemption.

2. The name of the Corpseburner is spurned, idols are broken, and spirits of the forge appeased with sacrament of ore, sweat and craftwork, as the hungry nameless demons of desert and storms are warded away by their shamans’ ceaseless rituals. They do not ever burn their dead, instead they mummify their fallen, clad them in gilt armour, and raise them as ancestral guardians to defend their homes.

3. A legion of Malorgoth gleams under the burning sky, with their blistering plate-mail and horned, beaked greathelms, the dead are indistinguishable from those yet to seize honour -through- death. Beneath the banners of nine clans, they set themselves to war against the demons and their traitorous Blacksoul cousins, riding on the backs of wargs, elephants and armoured giants and cyclopses strapped with catapults and ballistae. Those who ask why the numerically and martially stronger highlanders do not simply use their might to conquer their weakling lowland neighbours often find themselves fed to the wolves. Guilt and remorse are the lodestones of Malorgoth’s culture, and they will never be conquerors, nor slaves again.

Places of Interest:

The Black Castles of Ordhan

One of the peculiar protectorates of Malorgoth are a string of tropical islands covered in plantations of sugar cane and cocoa overseen by graceful black castles with terraces of ornate gardens. The people here are humans and half-orcs. Squires spar in orange-scented courtyards, as astrologians ask questions of the stars from bladed spires.

These are the Knights of the Manticore, the last survivors of the fallen kingdom of Ordhan. The Malorgothics kindly offered them the isles after clearing out the former rulers, a house of dark elves who used them as slaving bases, and they have since served as loyal allies, even if the order’s power on the political stage is middling.

Individually however, their Dread Knights are widely feared by both the righteous and the wicked. Clad in menacing Malorgothic plate-mail, their single-minded pursuit of evil spares neither prince nor pauper.

In the old ages, when light was stronger, these paladins once fought for justice and hope. Now, they fight only to avenge the fallen, to mercilessly run through the wicked and all who harbour or enable them. The evil they meet upon evil is indescribably brutal, to the point few regard them as heroes save those few fortunate souls they rescue.

While they tend to limit their conquests to demon cults and allies of the dark powers, this is out of courtesy instead of code. When the shadow recedes, no legal or ethical barrier can bind them. Those who wilfully cause harm to children are subject to the worst fates. One in every ten of the Order’s war banners and cloaks are stitched from their silently screaming, soul-bound skins.

Any prolonged battle against warlocks or demons will inevitably draw Dread Knights seeking vengeance. They otherwise fight alongside their Orc allies as an elite, mounted vanguard.

Sazrali, City of Cats
The easternmost point of Malorgoth is home to a colourful port city whose bell towers, minarets and muxrabija-lined streets are covered in flamboyantly painted tiles. Just outside the walls are miles of crisp white beaches, and within are canals and bazaars filled with intrigue and merriment. Wine and rum flow copiously, and the festivals of the city are renowned for their wildness. Arenas, opera houses and gambling parlours throng with visiting nobles and the aspiring nouveau riche. The main inhabitants are Tabaxi and other catfolk, leading some to call it ‘The City of Cats’. The current sultanate is keen to invite tourists, using the Orcs’ brutal reputation to maintain the peace. What happens in Sazrali stays in Sazrali.

Khargor, Forge of Destruction
Marking the location where lowlander and highlander territory meet is a broad escarpment where the Ejo’Kajar suddenly descends. At the edge of the wide, raging waterfall a massive fortress is carved out of the nearby cliff, its razor-like brass spires reaching high towards the heavens. Smoke and hammering belches from the war foundries, and there is a constant roar and clank of turning waterwheels and chains. Its beast pits clang and screech with the sound of monstrosities tamed (or simply dragged) from the wastes. The Orcs battle in arenas that hang upon the cliff’s edge, with the losers often plummeting to feed the vultures. The lowlanders have built peaceful farms and villages in the wide savannah below, but the uplands are a vast dry staging ground where war drums continually beat.

Politics And War

1. Who rules the nation?

The current Warchief of the Malorgothic Orcs is Shazraga Gorewart of the Ashfang Clan. Corpulent, red bearded and porcine, his foes fear his massive stomach and penchant for cannibalising those who displease him, and his friends are wary of his lecherous hunger for hairy Dwarf women, of which seven are his mistresses. His wife bears it with uncanny grace, devoting herself to a chess obsession. He has a soft spot for painting and ballet he goes to great lengths to hide.

The rest of the Orcs are tribes ruled by chieftains who are determined through ritual combat overseen by shaman. All challenges are to the death. The protectorates under the Orcs’ control are normally allowed their own local leadership, in return for providing the Orcs with whatever resources they need. Bad things happen to those who can’t provide.

2. What is their army like?

They may be on the side of light, but they are in no way nice or gentle. The armies of Malorgoth largely consist of faceless legions of heavy infantry armed with hammers, axes, polearms and tower shields. Explosive mines are layered to secure the flanks, dropped from scout airships.

Wyvern and wolf-riders strapped with explosives, armed with bows, javelins and slings fan out and pin their approaching opponents’ down, and harry them to the anvil of their infantry, often feinting retreats, and choosing to explode themselves than accept capture.

Lightly armoured berserkers armed with axes, hammers and hatchet-swords are thrown forth as a second-wave, followed by war-beasts as varied as trolls, tyrannosaurs and giant scorpions.

Impractically brutal war-machines drawn by massive beasts incorporating cannons, ballistae and trebuchets slam bombs and pots of burning naphta and acid at on-coming opponents. Ranks of flame-throwers and acid spewers take their places on the flanks and offer area denial.

Within range, the Orcs use heavy crossbows to halt their foes’ charges and ready their halberds and pikes. They give no ground and do not retreat. Even if foes breach past these lines, the grunts’ shields are tall and broad, and their weapons heavy and crushing.

A Malorgothic infantry formation moves like a black, jagged tortoise, brutally hacking and smashing at any foes that come into range. Shaman will enchant these weapons to burn with ice, flare with fire and lightning. They are not reckless, they are cold and precise.

Where possible, armoured riders and fast-moving monsters will continually pour around the main infantry to introduce their foes’ faces to their blades. They are exceptionally disciplined and drilled, their wills are strong enough to give demons pause. While these armies are good in defence, they struggle with prolonged melees, especially in the desert heat.

Inspirations/Cultural Analogues:
The Warcraft 2 & 3 era Horde, Peter Jackson’s Orcs (especially the Uruk-Hai), Ancient Egypt, Southern Africa, Warhammer’s Badlands, Bronze Age Sumeria, Late 20th Century Syria, How Bovril Tastes

[Thuzar-argent-dawn (Thuzar)]

From the Bleak peaks of the Lands of Dark to the Sunny glades of the Sunlands.
The known world of Argentdwania is a place of danger, horrors and wonder. At least that is what was told when I first departed upon my adventure into the wider world I had only ever read or heard about. Since then I have traveled far and wide, I’ve dinned with the pirate lords of on the Flotilla off the coast of Xynia, i’ve swapped stories with Locals in Krasarang, met heroes in the realms of Coltheim, walked the halls of the Grand Academy of Fel’thuzar and ridden a dazzaling Airship in Bohorok.
And to call the world a place of wonder will never do it justice.

But before I delve into my many tales of woe and whimsy I shall dedicate this page to friends I have met along the way and whom without I would not have been here today.

To Krull, the Minotaur whom I met in the Distantpeaks, a father and philosopher, we spend many nights discussing topics of mind and soul.

To Lorian, Noble Knight of Coltheim, your bravery in the face of overwhelming numbers and unmoveable smile, will never be forgotten.

To Elerik Huntmourn, A wizard whos magical prowess was matched only by his sense of duty.
I still pratice the spell you taught me.

The Feathers Four, a more colorful trope of entertainers couldn’t exist anywhere in the Sunlands, I hope you come visit me one day in my humble hamlet.

And Many more.

-From The Tales of Frikkles Woe and Wonders, page 1, written by the famous Gnome Adventurer and Exploror Frikkle Hillsborrow Chucklesprig himself.

[Mithcha-argent-dawn (Mithcha)]

Nation: Al’watia.
Government type: Theocratic matriarchy.
Coat of arms: Three spears crossed over a red river.
Capitol: Al’tia Ziggurat. (think the Anu District of Uruk)

Ethnic groups: 99% Trolls, various others in trading posts.
Religion: Eko worship, a blend of spirit worship and animism.
Imports: Silver, herbs, wood.
Exports: Gold, clay, fruits
Hallmarks: Isolationism, endless music, spying.
National dish: Soy chicken with rice

Interesting things about Al’watia
Officially no outsiders beyong diplomates are permitted in the Al’tia Ziggurat, or indeed beyond the trading posts at the border. Unofficially… well every place has corruption.

Ball games are a common pass time, often violent and resulting in lost limbs, the balls are often spiked, poisoned or rigged to fling out shrapnel at random intervals. Only one outsider has ever survived a game - he was sacrificed after.

The jungles are very dense and the most settlements hidden.

Charateristics of Al’watia
It’s a very strict law that no unblessed and sanctioned tree may be cut down, a very slow beuracuratic process.

It’s said that 100 a day are sacrificed at the great alter in Al’tia, though this is likely an exaggeration and, outside of wartime, generally only includes animals. Bunnies, being easy to catch and breed, are a particularly regular victim.

Outside of certain religious ideals, the notion of ‘legal’ is said to be a very dubious concept. Some would say crime is common, the natives would simply stare blankly. Then take that persons stuff.

Places of Interest
Al’tia Ziggurat - a large ziggurat poking out of the jungle. The bulk is made of gold, punctuated by unbroken silver patterns snaking down the structure. The top is puncuated by a great golden jewel sitting in a crown of red.

Zin’jaj trading post - the largest trading post in the kingdom, and one of only three places outsiders are officially permitted. It’s a bustling, almost international, place with trade happening day and night. Curiously most of the stalls are not directly run by native Trolls themselves, but outsiders who have been paid to do so.

The river of Al’tia - a great red river that snakes it’s way around the borders of the jungle kingdom. The myths of Al’watia tell them why it’s red, to the more scientificly aware… it’s just algae.

Politics and war:
Al’watia is, to most outside of the kingdom, ruled by a King. A single male on a gold throne. To most the three female priests to his side would be his advisors, in reality they are the rulers. Ruling through ‘divine’ right they lead the priesthood that permiates itself through the kingdom.
The priesthood, virtually entirely female, has ruled since the days of Al’tia, a mythical Troll said to have founded the kingdom by shedding her blood around the dense jungle.

With its own army, assassins, settlements and taxation the priesthood is both ever present and nowhere. The rare times somebody speaks out against it, the Al’ki assassins soon end that problem. These same assassins keep the trade posts in line and free of the more freestyle ways of the rest of the kingdom.

The more formal army is comprised of agile warriors, spears, the occasional firearm, toxic blowdarts. It’s not an army made to perform a pitched battle, but one made to fight in dense jungle and rough terrain.