The Lore of the Wyrmfall Sea

Prologue

4,000 years ago, during the Scouring War of the Dragon Queen, a white dragon named Gathrim was killed above a quarry in Southern Ulithar. Her body fell into the earth, and from her body, ice and rain fell for ten years. Eventually, the ice stopped, and what was left was an inland freshwater sea which the locals called the Wyrmfall. In the present day, the Wyrmfall Sea is surrounded by lush forests and bustling port towns, drawing traders and adventurers from all corners of the continent. From the might of the Coastal Baronies, to the bustling trade of the Wood League, to the chaos of the Splintered Empire, there are myriad places to find an adventurous fortune in the area of the Wyrmfall Sea.

I.

GEOGRAPHY AND SETTLEMENT

We should begin, of course, with the Sea itself. At its maximum length, it is 1,280 square miles and its maximum width is 562 miles. Its primary inflow is the Linn river, which runs south through the Shadewood forest from the Rime-Crag mountains. Its main outflow is the Spiderbeck, a subterranean river that flows into the Underdark. There are myriad streams which flow into and out of the sea, but the icy, magical nature of the sea means that the smaller the stream, the more likely it is to be frozen over year round. While the larger settlements like Shorefang and Red March bustle with trade and activity, smaller fishing villages and logging camps dot the coastline, while a thriving and long lived pirate colony makes a tidy living, sniping trade ships making their way through the craggy archipelago near the center of the sea, known as as the Dragon’s Teeth Isles.

To the north and west stretches the Shadewood, a pinewood forest which abuts and lines the deep Valley in which the Wyrmfall Sea lies. The forest’s most famous feature is its trees which, due to the magical influence of the corpse of the dragon Gathrim, are black in color. The entirety of their exteriors, from their bark, to their needles, to their very roots, is a deep onyx black. Their interiors, however, are a bright blue, like winter ice. This unique subspecies of pine tree is noted for its uncommon strength and fire resistance, and thus the communities which log the forest, such as Leaguehall and Highmoon, have become very economically powerful in recent decades.

To the northwest corner of the Valley lies the Crypt Ridges, a series of mountains which teem with malevolent energies. It is said that the spell bolt which felled the dragon Gathrim came from a settlement in the Ridges, and thus the dragon’s dying breath was spent in cursing the people of the Ridges, killing most of them over a long decade as the long winter brought on by the dragon’s demise drove away the animals of the area and the settlers were trapped by the ever gathering snow. It is rumored that remnants of the dark magics that caused such devastation still linger within the Crypt Ridges, leading many to avoid the area altogether. Only the singular town of Daggerfield manages to eek out a living in the hinterlands, and its wizard college, Elros University of Gramercy, is said to have the character of a military school more than a prestigious school of higher education. The students at Elros University exhibit discipline and resolve, for they train tirelessly to harness and control the lingering dark magics in the region, but none have yet succeeded. Still, the school is the only option for any who wish to study wizardry and lack the funds to travel and study elsewhere.

Southward from the sea, beyond the southern reaches of the Valley, lies an expanse of moorland known as the Griffin Moors, named after the prides of griffins which hunt the wild horses there. There are not many static settlements in the Moors due to this, and many people who live there have adopted a semi nomadic lifestyle. The capture and training of griffins for the purpose of making them into war mounts is one of the most common professions, though not many griffin riders come from the area, due to the nearby imperial laws against commoners riding. Despite the surrounding challenges and restrictions, the bond between the people of the Wyrmfall Sea and its unique landscapes runs deep, shaping their way of life.

II.

SHOREFANG, ITS DISTRICTS, AND THE FAMILY STORMBREATH

The city of Shorefang is a bustling and cosmopolitan place, with a vibrant arts culture and a military college without peer, yet it lives beneath the shadow of a great and mighty bronze dragon, named Ossir Stormbreath, who rules as an ostensibly benevolent baron of the city, and all who enter are subject to his magnanimity… and his wrath.

The city was founded 400 years ago, by Ossir, who united a collection of fishing towns along the curving north shore of the Wyrmfall sea. These communities were grateful to Ossir for driving a pirate fleet away from the shore the previous year, and thus readily accepted Ossir’s generous rule. For centuries, the dragon Ossir Stormbreath has ensured peace and prosperity in Shorefang, using his wisdom and might to protect the city from goblin incursion and the black dragon Chymal. Ossir’s outlook changed, however, when Chymal killed both his son and his mate as they defended a merchant caravan from the great beast. The loss of his son and mate led Ossir to become more reclusive and protective of Shorefang, causing him to impose stricter laws and heavier rule over his subjects. Soon after, Ossir’s four remaining children now run the city’s four major districts in his name, each of which we will describe now.

The Horde

The first and largest of the districts is the Horde, ruled over by Ossir’s oldest son Nohdrath. Nohdrath is known for his strategic cunning and unwavering loyalty to his father’s legacy, fostering a large army and “police” force for the city. His troops patrol the streets day and night, instilling a sense of security but also an air of oppression among the citizens. The soldiers of the Bronze Army are known for their self-righteousness and their determination to enforce the strict moral code of their bronze dragon master, at least amongst those outside of their ranks. It is a widely known secret that the Bronze Army has a history of recruiting any person with martial skill, regardless of their actual moral fiber; for what Ossir and Nohdrath value the most is the appearance of order.

The Horde has grown in recent days, now encompassing the Eye, the former district ruled over by Ossir’s fallen son Silmertar and the Ruby Grove, which was ruled by Ossir’s mate, Dansaer Dark Roar. The merging of the districts was a strategic move by Nohdrath, aiming to consolidate power and resources while demonstrating his authority within the city, though always outwardly remaining loyal to his father. Until recently, Shorefang was an ally of the Elven Empire. Now that the empire has fallen, Nohdrath has been lobbying his father to annex the other cities on the coast of the Wyrmfall; and word is spreading that the boots of the Bronze Army will soon crush other towns under foot, should Nohdrath convince his father to allow them to march. The political tensions across the Wyrmfall Sea are on a knife's edge, and rumors swirl like sea spray as alliances shift and power plays unfold.

The Bronze Gate

The Bronze Gate is the second most powerful district in Shorefang, and its economic hub. It is ruled by Ossir’s third child and second daughter, Korav, and it acts as the primary means of land transport into and out of the city, though it also possesses the only docks for skyships on the whole of the Wyrmfall coastline. Through strategic alliances, Korav has maintained a firm grip on trade routes and commerce flowing through the Bronze Gate, furthering her influence in both Shorefang and in the other three major coastal cities. Because of her comparatively even handed approach, at least compared to those of her father and older brother, Korav has been accused of being too willing to glad-hand with the duplicitous lordly class which rules the other cities. With her eyes on bolstering her own position and that of the district, Korav discreetly fosters ties with the merchant princes, political movers, and sordid cutpurses who make up the political powers all over the Valley. The delicate balance of power in the Bronze Gate makes it a crucial player in the shifting landscape of Wyrmfall Sea's politics, but this displeases the likes of Nohdrath. Whispers that Nohdrath has been attempting to dissuade his father from utilizing Korav’s council have been swirling for years. As ever, Ossir has been using vagaries to misdirect his children, never revealing his own intentions until absolutely necessary. Amid the political intrigue, tensions in Shorefang mount as rumors of Nohdrath's schemes spread like wildfire through the bazaars and taverns, though even as he tries to outmaneuver his sister, Nohdrath knows that her subtlety ensures her safety for, unlike his, her agents wear no uniform, and the Bronze Spider can always retreat to her web…

Korav herself would doubtless present a differing set of facts. She has often said that she embodies the spirit of justice that her brother and father often claim to, but rarely do. She funds the Phrygian Frost revolutionary movement, fighting from the shadows for a more democratic society. The revolutionaries grow bolder with each passing moon, their call for equality echoing through the twisting alleys of Shorefang, and thus does Korav endanger her position. For her father does not brook with democracy’s fickle whims, and if he ever finds out what his daughter’s whispered words have bought, he will be most displeased.

Westshade

The third most powerful district is known as the Westshade, and it is ruled over by Ossir’s youngest daughter, Domagal. Hers is the most recently built seat, with its establishment only being 50 years old. Because she is the youngest of Ossir’s children, Domagal is often overlooked by not only the citizens of the city, but her family as well. She is derided as inexperienced and flighty, and because most of the road traffic goes through the Bronze Gate, the Westshade does not experience much economic activity. What money is made there can be gotten through the Shade Market, a bustling and sometimes dangerous market for magical goods. Indeed, Domagal has an aptitude for magic exceeding that of her father and siblings; having studied at the Elros University of Gramercy in Daggerfield. She also has the most experience dealing with humanoids in a human guise, spending a majority of her time in Shorefang shapechanged into various personas. She could be a half-orc tavern-keep one day, and a dwarf mercenary the next. Despite her duplicitous appearance, the folk of the Westshade seem truly to love Domagal, and she has earned their unwavering loyalty through her genuine concern for their well-being. While she honors the strict law codes which her father enforces, she also enacts true restorative justice to help those who wish to repent their transgressions. She also runs the city’s food stores, making sure the city can survive a lean season comfortably. She oversees the distribution of supplies, ensuring that no one in the Westshade goes hungry during harsh times. The adulation of her people has been building her ego, and her sibling’s jealousy in equal measure. As a result, tensions within the ruling family have been increasing, casting a shadow over the once peaceful Westshade.

Old Ridge & the Port

Old Ridge and the Port of Shorefang is ruled by Ossir’s middle child, Uldras. These are the eldest parts of the city; Old Ridge being one of the original hamlets which made up the foundations of the wider city. In a time when trade was sparse, Shorefang's strategic port location made it a hub for commerce and cultural exchange. Now that skyshipyards in the Bronze Gate handle most of the freight coming into the city, the Port and Old Ridge now act as centers for the city’s considerable naval forces. The ships docked in the port serve as guardians and defenders of the Wyrmfall Sea, patrolling its waters and protecting the city from threats both major and minor. Many middle class families save up considerable sums of money just for the chance to send their children to the Shorefang Naval Academy. Uldras themself oversees the academy, giving the commencement address to every graduating class of officers for the past 300 years. Indeed, it is said that Uldras so highly values the perceived excellence of the officers trained at their school that they will shape change into an ordinary sailor, just to secretly test the captain of the ship on which they reside. This is likely untrue, but the fostering of this rumor has done a good job at building Uldras’ infamy and fierce reputation. Certainly, Shorefang's naval forces play a crucial role in maintaining the security of the Wyrmfall Sea, thus making Uldras one of the wealthiest of his siblings; almost as much as their father.

The people of Old Ridge are known as a devout and solemn lot. The majority of the district are worshippers of Zorus, Saint of the Wyrmfall, who is said to watch over her followers and guide weary sailors home with her ever-shining lamplight. Zorus's followers can be seen at dawn, lighting candles at the shrine bearing her name and muttering in hushed tones, their faces strained with worry for the fisherfolk’s haul, and for the fisherfolk themselves. Worship of the Saint has occurred almost since the birth of the sea itself, and her influence over Old Ridge is deeply ingrained in every nook and cranny of the district. Almost every home has a small effigy of Zorus and many of those who do not go into the sea trades go into the clergy instead. The district's narrow alleyways are lined with weather-worn statues and reliquaries, each one a testament to the enduring faith of the locals, though Uldras has begun to have them removed in recent years, decreeing that veneration of the Saint is superstitious and backward. This has had the effect of creating resentment amongst the poorer folk of the district, whose love of the Saint is only matched by their willingness to fight for her…

III.

LORD CELEBOR ELROS AND THE UNIVERSITY OF GRAMERCY.

3,000 years ago, Celebor Elros was called away from his keep in Daggerfield to assist the government of the city of Davwar in their rebuilding efforts after the Scouring War against the dragons of Tiamat. Before he left, he had fired a witchbolt from his tower to fell the dragon Gathrim, saving the entire Valley from a doom of ice. As Gathrim fell, however, his final breath was spent in cursing the wizard who struck him down to never know joy from a winter as long as he lived. Elros paid it no heed, but when he returned, Daggerfield was snowbound and frozen, with every single citizen turned to frostbitten corpses. Elros fell into grief and rage, and soon turned his pain toward action. He spent the first five years repopulating Daggerfield, and another five assembling dozens of the greatest magical minds on the whole of Ulithar. And out of that careless word and that night of burying the dead in the snow, came one of the greatest institutes of magic ever seen: Elros University of Gramercy.

Elros University is oft stereotyped as nothing but an average school with above average discipline; but this is simple calumny. It is a place of great renown, where only the most talented mages are chosen to study, and because of the harsh environs of the Crypt Ridges; from the icy winds to the ravenous beasts, to the restless undead; Elros students must harden themselves to the grim realities around them out of sheer necessity. Many mages who deal with the wizards and artificers who train at Elros report them to be extraordinarily resourceful; able to pull exceptional results out of subpar magical components. They are also said to be more willing to endanger themselves and others in order to defend what they think is right. The people of the surrounding lands often regard the students and graduates of Elros University with a mixture of awe and trepidation, for it is said that they have killed something within themselves to attain their power. Everything at the school is made into a challenge, starting with the very beginning of a student’s career. The academic year begins at the beginning of the month of the Jester, when the snow and wind are at their deadliest in the Crypt Ridges. Students are dropped off midway down the road between Daggerfield and Highmoon, and told to hike up the snow logged road to Castle Elros on the far outskirts of Daggerfield. If the students are clever enough, they realize that it is impossible for any one person to make the 15 mile hike alone, and that only by cooperation between each of them could they truly understand magic. So important is this message that if, by some miracle, a student manages to make it to Castle Elros alone by leaving behind their comrades, they are turned away at the gate, for their selfish attitudes would only imperil the school and its integrity. When a class makes it through their first trial, they are given a lavish feast. Then, at the stroke of midnight, the headteacher and the rest of the faculty leave the room, whereupon the doors are locked, the candles and fireplaces extinguish themselves, save for a singular tea-candle, and a small parcel containing the spell components for a Produce Flame spell appears in the center of the room. Should anyone try to use the tea candle to light the braziers in the room, they vanish; reappearing in Highmoon with a letter of expulsion in their pocket. The students are then watched, and once someone manages to produce a flame to the light one of the fireplaces, the doors are unlocked and they are permitted to, finally, rest.

In the coming days, students are subjected to a battery of vigorous entrance exams, the failure of any of which results in immediate expulsion. Those who make it through all of these trials are typically just five to seven percent of their original class and, by the standards of Elros, the best of the best magicians in the world. What follows is five to ten years of schooling, each more difficult than the last, as each students refine their skills and specialize into their own chosen schools of magic. The school's prestigious curriculum covers a wide array of magical disciplines, from elemental manipulation to ethereal enchantments. More recently. The school has begun to teach magical artifice. Artificers might learn alchemical techniques, how to bind the soul to a mechanical construct, or how to build magic suits of armor. These disciplines are newer than wizardry, however, and thus treated with less respect by the students and faculty. As tensions rise between traditional magicians and the emerging artificers, the school has become a hotbed of competition and rivalry; only tempered by the school’s ingrained tradition of camaraderie. After a minimum of five years of study, a student may petition the school’s board of directors that they have mastered their chosen field and that should be considered a graduate of Elros university. Upon completion of yet another rigorous test, the prospective graduate student will gather the board to deliver their dissertation, which includes a lengthy written presentation, alongside demonstrations of the magical principles discussed therein. If the board unanimously awards the dissertation a grade of 96 percent or higher, the student is awarded a diploma and a black and white robe, which marks them out as a high mage of Elros University. Graduates of Elros often receive tenured positions at other universities of magic all across the continent, just for proving themselves worthy of Elros’ standards. Others become researchers, who wander the world in search of magical knowledge. Still others might prefer a military career as a war mage, or an artillerist. Some become so accustomed to the hard scrabble life at Elros that they simply stay on as apprentices to their former professors, continuing their education in order to one day become professors at Elros themselves, to shape the minds of generations to come. Whatever path appeals most to a given student, they know that as long as they wear the black and white of Elros, they can rightfully claim to represent the finest institution of magic on the planet, and that, while Lord Celebor Elros never knew a peaceful winter’s night for the rest of his life, the cold of his heart and the steel of his brow built a diamond hard bulwark against the kind of evil which claimed his home all those years ago. So, should something as wicked as the White Death Gathrim come to threaten the valley again, it is the students Elros University of Gramercy which will answer it.

IV.

SAINT ZORUS ZOHN: MINOR GOD OF THE SEA

When, 1300 long years ago, the great Dragon Turtle known as Uzak arose from the depths of the sea to attack the city of Redmarch for some forgotten trespass, none could stand to their maw. Any ships that dared to leave harbor, or even loose their sails within sight of Uzak, could expect their crew to be swallowed by the beast in an instant, or else to boil alive in the dragon’s scalding steam breath. Many feared Uzak to be the final death of Redmarch, and almost all of the city’s sea captains sold their ships for lives of farming away from the coast… all except one. Captain Zorus Zohn, of the ship the “Seraphim’s Wing,” was determined to best the dragon and free the city she called home. She was the daughter of a sea-elf priest and a human sea captain, who trained his daughter to sail, and to recognize the import and divinity of the sea from the age of two. Her hair was like moonlight rippling off the waves, and her eyes were lighthouse lamps in a tempest. She was only 19 years old, and yet she had built herself the reputation of being the greatest sailor on the coast; and so no person dared question her ability to end the beast. So it was, that on a brisk winter’s night, under the kind light of two full moons, Captain Zohn sailed the “Seraphim’s Wing” out of the port of Redmarch, and into holy legend.

The battle raged through the night, the air thick with the acrid stench of steam and the sound of thunderous waves and cannon fire. Finally, with her crew dead and Uzak on the verge of victory, Captain Zohn lashed herself to the helm on shattered legs, steering the Seraphim’s Wing into the mouth of Uzak. People watching from the shore cried out in horror as Zohn’s ship was crushed beneath a beak like a mountain, and Uzak then sank back into the waves. The next day was a day of mourning for the city, as the many sailors who had served with Zohn and her father prayed for her soul. That night, the city prepared to meet its doom as Uzak rose once more and swam for the walls of the city. When Uzak reached the beaches, however, he did not end the city, rather he laid his massive head on the sand and opened their mouth… whereupon Captain Zorus Zohn walked out of it. She was dressed in the tattered remains of her mainsail, and her legs were replaced with the broken ends of spars. In her right hand was her cutlass, and in her left was her ship’s lamp; glowing with the light of a thousand stars. Those who were there to witness this miracle immediately knew that this was no ordinary sailor. They knew that thenceforth and forevermore, she was legend. A folk hero of epic proportions, who unbeknownst to them, was destined to become a beloved saint… and a god.

Saint Zorus is a relatively minor god, having just under 75,000 estimated followers along the whole of the Wyrmfall Coast. She is the god of sailors, captains, fortune, storms, disability, and the sea. She was initially venerated as a figure of local folklore; a figure known as Stormalong Zohn, who sailors would invoke in hopes of calm seas and good food before venturing forth. As centuries began to roll on, however, the image of Stormy Zohn: uncommonly resilient mortal sailor who tamed a dragon turtle, began to fade; and in its place began to form the image of beloved Saint Zorus; god and spirit of the Wyrmfall sea. Despite being canonized, the worship of the Saint takes not the form of tired liturgy in opulent cathedrals. Zorus is a folk saint, and thus the hymns sung by her congregants are simple sea shanties and tavern songs. Her tabernacle is the fo’c’s’le of any ship where good times are shared, her communion is any grog chugged from tankards with a toast to her health. Her clerics bear no vestments; instead, they might be identified by a wooden leg or a missing eye; for those sailors who find injury on the sea are said to have been saved from the jaws of Uzak by the Lady Zorus herself. These blessed few might begin to dream of Zorus, or perhaps even begin to see her on the back of Uzak at the edge of the horizon. These sailors then vow to serve Zorus unfailingly, until the last drop of water in the whole of the sea has dried up. They will then tattoo the names of each and every sailor aboard their ship upon themselves, and if their ship returns safely to home, those blessed sailors are said to be Zorus’ mates, and they will begin to exhibit divine magical talents.

The followers of Zorus believe that the Saint is a loving, yet fickle mother. They know in their very souls that those who disregard or disrespect the superstitions and customs which govern life at sea earn the ire of the Saint. Those who dare cross her might soon find themselves at the mercy of the tempests, their ships left to founder in the unforgiving depths of the sea. They are called Bilge-Rats and it is said that only by diving to the bottom of the sea to beg forgiveness of the Lady Zorus herself, will they find salvation.

V.

THE DRAGON’S TEETH PIRATES AND THE TOWN OF COCHRAN’S CRAG

Ossir Stormbreath first entered the Valley of the Wyrmfall 400 years ago, and did so in a spectacular fashion. He breathed lightning down onto a fleet of brigantines which had been menacing the north shore of the sea. These pirates were driven southwards; away from their ratholes along the coast, to the archipelago of wet, dewy, limestone islands near the center of the sea. The few remaining pirate captains set up crude shelters in the natural quays of the four largest islands, making a living by sniping small fishing cogs which fished the nearby waters. Over the next 20 years, rebels, cutthroats and down-on-their-luck sailors made their way to the isles, which the inhabitants had named the Dragon’s Teeth. The makeshift town slowly spread itself over the whole of the archipelago, until the grandchildren of the original pirate captains decided to organize the town under their leadership. They formed the Captains’ Council, and chose a blind prophet of Saint Zorus named Cochran Denstooth to be their Commodore Mayor. The town was called “Cochran’s Crag” in his honor, and thus the ships of the Dragon’s Teeth began to menace the Wyrmfall Sea once more.

Cochran’s Crag itself sprawls like seawater over a ship in a storm. The township expanded over the rocky archipelago, with buildings of driftwood and salvaged stone hugging the cliffs and natural caves. The central island is home to the Town Hall and the majority of the other buildings of the government. This island is home to the majority of the town’s residents, as well as the docks reserved for the highest earning pirate ships. Each ship is ranked by how much gold they pulled on their most recent voyage, with higher rankings garnering more acclaim and better privileges from the town’s vendors and fences. Many of the pirates near the top would rather lose an eye than lose their ranking. The tense atmosphere around the docking area is fueled by the fierce competition among the pirate crews, as they vie for a chance at a seat on the Captains’ Council, and the great pay that comes with it.

Though it may seem paradoxical to call buccaneers “pious,” the pirates of the Teeth are known as some of Saint Zorus’ most fervent followers; though their interpretation of her is wildly different from their law abiding counterparts on the mainland. The pirates believe that Cochran Denstooth was no mere priest, but that he was, in fact, the reincarnation of the Saint’s secret husband, and that she was not just a supernaturally talented sailor, but the leader of the pirate fleet from which Cochran’s Crag sprang. This doctrine is hidden from the outside world, so as to not scare sailors from coming to the Teeth to join up with pirate crews. Their beliefs are fiercely guarded, and any outsider who stumbles upon their hidden shrine to Saint Zorus is quickly dealt with, whether through intimidation or force.

Despite their pedigree, the Denstooth family of halflings has fallen far. Their current patriarch, Stede Denstooth, is a middling pirate, captain of the ship known as the Baleen. He is not wealthy enough to contend for a Council seat, yet nonetheless wealthy enough to continually raise new crews of sailors. There is a singular accolade that the Denstooths can claim, however. Stede; along with his wife and co-captain, Cleito Denstooth; have escaped from imprisonment, arrest and execution in all four of the Wyrmfall’s grand coastal cities more than any other pirate on the whole of the sea.

Many pirates have arisen in the Crag’s 400 years of existence, and many have laid claim to the office of Commodore Mayor. The current Mayor, a dragonborn named Gulkun Greatclaw, has made the coastal powers fear the ships of the Crag anew. She has called on all of the captains to unite into a single grand fleet; in the name of a purpose which she has only shared with the Captains’ Council. She has been met with resistance thus far, but with the fall of the Elven Empire, many holdouts now see the weakness of the shore powers, and the potential for exponential profits at their expense; if only enough ships put aside petty grievances and glory seeking to attack even one of the cities. War already looms on the land. As the days go by, the question of whether or not the grand fleet which founded the Crag all those years ago will reform to reap bloody revenge on those who once drove it away, becomes a when, rather than an if.

VI.

THE HOUSE LUNARGUARD OF SHOREFANG

The Elven Empire of Hithluminar existed for 3,500 years. Six elven generations gave their bloody effort to forge the greatest imperial state the world has ever known. Those who prove themselves to be the greatest servants of the empire are given the title of Velimar, roughly analogous to the titles of Lord or Lady in other realms. Thusly ennobled, these individuals might found a noble house upon their family lands. Many of these houses have risen and fallen in the past three and a half centuries, and carved their names into the very bedrock of Ulithar history, but some have had the misfortune of having been born during the empire’s dying years. These houses, known as the Dusk Nobility, are often ignored or derided by their more venerable kin, due to perceived weakness from inexperience; but many of these young houses have built themselves impressive reputations in their short time in existence. One such house bares the distinction of being one of the last houses to raise griffin knights; though now that the empire has fallen, their hard-fought nobility is perilously close to being destroyed. And though they are still young, the faithful House Lunarguard stands ready to defend what is theirs… by any measure necessary.

House Lunarguard was founded 500 years ago by Lord Feyrith Lunarguard, who still leads the house to this day. Feyrith was the son of a pig farmer, who began his career as a professional soldier in the imperial army during the fourth Imperial Civil War. Feyrith proved himself of fierce mettle, and so rose quickly through the ranks. Unexpectedly, when offered the position of captain of his regiment, Feyrith instead took the position of regimental justiciar; responsible for the dispensation of the emperor’s judgment on deserters and traitors. Feyrith took to this new role immediately, sentencing dozens of prisoners to hard labor, flogging, trench digging and death. In doing so, Feyrith gained the favor of the emperor, who eventually granted him lands along the Wyrmfall Sea, thus laying the foundation of House Lunarguard to this day. When Ossir Stormbreath founded the city of Shorefang and sent representatives to House Lunarguard in order to purchase their lands, Feyrith agreed to give the House’s surrounding lands over to Ossir, just so long as Feyrith could retain his title and privileges. He has argued that he was in no position to fight a dragon, and thus his decision was a prudent one, but he has been mocked by other elvish nobles ever since. Despite their derision, Feyrith has proven a politically savvy man; negotiating for himself the office of Justice of the Peace in the city, as well as being appointed the official emissary to the imperial court. Feyrith has made further gains from these positions, by negotiating the right to train his sons and daughters as griffin knights. Feyrith married his first wife, Amaloth, soon after; and sired a daughter named Eldariel. Lady Amaloth died of a plague, leaving Feyrith vulnerable. He remarried soon after, to another elven noblewoman named Alarwel, and had a pair of twin sons named Belagor and Lodile. Sadly, Lady Alarwel died when the city was besieged by Ventalian forces ten years ago. Many were shocked when Feyrith did not marry into another imperial royal household, but instead married a minor human noble lady from Ventalia named Paola. Since then, Feyrith and Paola have produced a singular heir; a girl by the name of Alfreda; and they now fight every day to maintain their power in a world which seems increasingly hostile to power of their kind.

VII.

THE MANTLE VERDANT MERCENARY COMPANY

For all the dangers which stalk the continent of Ulithar, the people do not often know fear or terror. Whether noble lord, or humble peasant, all folk know that for a scant few coins of gold, a cadre of heroes in green cloaks will make a quick end of their peril; for across the whole continent from the Tri-Lakes in the east, to the Sawtooth Coast in the west; there is no more powerful a force than the Mantle Verdant mercenary company.

Forged in fires of war and nurtured by the quick of a world wracked by strife, they are a force like none other; their stories sung by bards in ale-halls and their deeds legendary. They are the subject of many a tale, if only because they are the greatest fighting force ever assembled on the continent. The Mantle Verdant's colors are dark green and gold. They are proud of the fact that they are a selfless fighting force and that they always charge in at the vanguard of any conflict. It is said that the Mantle Verdant have a strict code of chivalry and have never been known to shy from a fight because of it; for the glory of battle is a great and noble endeavor.

The Mantle Verdant is led by a council of Elders (known as the Sentinels) who meet in the Emerald Hall in the free city of Lindoroth. They vet new recruits, plan larger military campaigns, and negotiate larger contracts with the governments of Ulithar. Though they are a powerful fighting force, the Mantle lacks the strict hierarchy of most military forces, with only the Sentinels holding power over other members. The members of the Mantle are organized into companies of between four and twenty individuals, and these companies are given an animalia, constructs of clockwork and spellcraft which are made to resemble animals. Each animalia contains a magical stone, which contains the knowledge and memories of a dead Sentinel, allowing the mechanical beasts to speak with the voice of the ages. The companies derive their names from their animalia (I.E. the Silver Bat, the Gold Wyrmling,) and after swearing honorable service to the Mantle, they are given the green cloaks for which the Mantle is named, and thence are bonded together forever.

Origins

3,000 years ago, a group of historians clad in green cloaks set out from the College of Lindoroth to chronicle the war against the Dragon Queen. They began traveling throughout Ulithar and recording the history of the conflict, but they were pained by all they saw. They saw both sides of the war commit terrible crimes against civilians and treat them as an afterthought. So, as the war neared its end, they took up arms in the defense of all that was good in the world, gaining for themselves a reputation as heroes. An ancient green dragon named Bortemoth the Branded came to them and offered to bankroll the warriors, just so long as they swore to fight for the right. This took them from mere mortal heroes to figures of legends, traveling from battlefield to battlefield, defending the weak, and routing the forces of evil. They soon attracted other like-minded individuals to their cause, and began to fight not just for Lindoroth, but for all of Ulithar. As the millennia passed, the cloaks of these warriors, too, became legend. They had entered into the common vernacular as the "Mantle of Green," or simply "the Green," and it was the descendants of this first company who used the riches of their forebears to build the Emerald Hall, nailing their green cloaks to the front facade to honor the dead, a tradition which continues to this day; and now the Emerald Hall is entirely covered in the green cloth cloaks of members past. Over the next three centuries, the Mantle would grow and splinter, rise and fall, but would never fade away completely.

Operations

The Mantle is often hired by the governments of Ulithar to escort merchant caravans to and from settlements, patrol the roads in front of cities, fight off bandits, and protect all sorts of interests. They also sometimes act as bodyguards for high nobility. The Mantle also often hires themselves out to other mercenary companies, and in this way, they spread their influence and fame throughout the continent, resulting in numerous cadres of Mantle-inspired fighters; such as the Cloak Infernum, the Silvered Knights, or the Golden Warhounds.

The Mantle itself is a very loosely organized fighting force, with many members acting on their own, or within a small cadre, without any oversight. This is because the Sentinels have no interest in controlling the actions of their members, as they believe that the members of the Mantle are sufficiently moral individuals who will do what is right, even without a strict chain of command. The Sentinels only ever intervene if a member of the Mantle has broken their oaths, or done something else to sully the honor of the Mantle. The Sentinels do not often suffer such instances, however, and in the past several centuries only three companies of Mantle have been disbanded. The Mantle is also known to accept contracts from other militaries, and in times of great need, they will act on their own, taking up arms on behalf of whichever side the Sentinels declare has the moral high-ground in a conflict. Many scholars are unsure of the true motives of the Mantle in such cases, but in these instances they have always turned the tide of any conflict in their favor. The Sentinels are a hidden sect, known to only a handful of people, and it is not known how they are able to divine the side of justice in a war.

In addition to the warriors, the Mantle Verdant maintains connections to its roots within the College of Lindoroth by employing a force of scholars. These intellectuals are employed in many ways, from maintenance of the extensive medicinal gardens at the Emerald Hall, to the keeping of the labyrinthine books which track the finances of the green-cloaks. They are also often sent out to research particular issues, and well-respected members of the Green Minds, as these scholars are called, will often be sent out on expeditions with the company's warriors, to safely conduct research into bestial physiology. All of the Green Minds, regardless of to what purpose they are employed, are also trained historians. They maintain detailed records of all of the Mantle's adventures and successes, as well as scholarly documents about the enemies which the Mantle have faced in the past. In this way, the Green Minds have been a linchpin in the preservation of history across the continent, and though they are not often remembered in song and legend, their contribution is vast. A few of the Green Minds may join the ranks of the Mantle Verdant's military arm, but most who begin training in this profession usually choose to stay at the Emerald Hall and study in great depth the fighting techniques and tactics employed by the champions of the Mantle Verdant. It is oft said that a company has achieved true renown when a member of the Green Minds attaches themselves voluntarily to said company in order to produce a book chronicling the history of their deeds. Mantle companies typically number between four and twenty persons, but larger companies are not uncommon, with some companies boasting over two hundred soldiers. Some companies will even have allies traveling with them, especially if they hire themselves out as an escort for merchant caravans. One company of the Mantle Verdant even had an ancient giant, who was named "the King-Thing," as their companion. He guarded the merchant traders who employed them, as well as the company on their excursions.

The Mantle Verdant is a legend among mercenary companies, one which is known throughout the wide continent of Ulithar. They fight on behalf of those who hire them and scour the land in search of its greatest threats. Though their ranks are made up of mercenaries and sell-swords, their code of chivalry and honor rings like a bell in the ears of those who know of it; for few other mercenaries would offer aid to a kingdom besieged by an entire army, or send food and water to a small but brave garrison in time of famine. It is said that one day, in the dim future, the tales of the Green Minds will line the shelves at the Emerald Hall, and the hallowed cloaks of the Mantle Verdant will adorn the relics of their glory.

VIII.

THE CITY OF REDMARCH AND THE CLAN HAVERVOLK

Many places across Ulithar have legends of vampires. They tell of darkened souls who dwell in darker places. Most rational people dismiss the stories as just the feeble imaginings of drunken tavern flies; simply tales to impress their fellows in hopes of another free tankard. But as for the irrational, the blinkered and the daft, they know of the truth of the tales. They daren’t cast doubt on even the least credible rumors, for they have made acquaintance with the darkened souls, in darkest places, and truly, it is the sane person who fears the vampire.

One such woman of realist sanity was Countess Madelina Havervolk. She was a wizardly scholar of the undead, haling from parts unknown. The only thing she would reveal of herself was that she was a professor of Necromancy at an institute known as “the School of Bells,” and that she was perhaps the world’s leading expert on vampires. This was 4,000 years ago, before even the birth of the Wyrmfall Sea. Countess Madelina Havervolk was rumored to be the keeper of a library untouched by time, housing ancient tomes and forbidden knowledge, or at least that is the most plausible explanation for her vast store of insight into vampires… the truth, as has been previously noted, is rarely plausible. The Countess founded a city long ago; the city of Redmarch, in which she founded the preeminent school of monster hunting, known as Mournglade Academy. She ruled the city for 60 more years, but almost immediately became subject to vicious rumor and calumny. Many claimed never to see her venture out from Havervolk Manor during daylight hours, or that she showed very little signs of age, even as the first settlers of Redmarch began to wither and dwindle.

As time passed, eerie tales swirled around the Countess, with some whispering about her dark, midnight gatherings involving muttered incantations and spilt blood. Some even dared suggest that she herself was a vampire, though those stating such were dismissed as irrational. As blinkered. As daft. The rumors continued to swirl even after it was announced that the Countess had died. Her daughter, Lariana, took her spot as hereditary matriarch of Redmarch and Clan Havervolk, and people grew even more suspicious, for it was said that Lariana was almost identical to her mother in both appearance and personality. Many suggested that Countess Madelina was Countess Lariana, under a different name.

This state of affairs has existed for the past three millennia, with each generation of the Havervolk family birthing a Matriarch who is inevitably accused of being merely another guise for Madelina. The legend of Countess Madelina's eternal presence continued its relentless hold on the minds of the Redmarch inhabitants, as each passing Matriarch would rule for decades, then die without warning; only to be replaced by her “daughter.” People have said that no vampires would dedicate themselves to the cause of hunting their own kind; as the Havervolk still run the Mournglade Academy, and it still maintains its reputation as a prestigious school. The whispers of deception lingered like a persistent fog among the sea cliffs of Redmarch, where the shadows seemed to hold the secrets of the ancient family. Then came the time of the fall of the Empire of Hithluminar, and finally, the truth was revealed; though it proved to be stranger than anyone could have thought.

The Countesses of Clan Havervolk were all the same woman, and yet all descended from her. Madelina made a bargain with the Witch of the Mournglade, saying that as long as the line of Havervolk produced daughters, she would live on. Slowly, over the course of their lives, each heir apparent would take on the appearance, personality and even the memories of Madelina. All of this was revealed when Veronik Havervolk, the current heir, revealed the curse to the wider world. She then disappeared, leaving the succession of the Clan in doubt for the first time ever. Ironically, this has made Madelina become paranoid and in terror of death, to the point that she has undergone a ritual to become a vampire, along with many of the members of minor and cadet branches of the Clan. She now rules as an unholy queen of blood; hoping that finding her hundredth daughter will restore her immortality, and she can reverse the new curse she has placed over her family. With her dark powers growing, and her minions scouring the land for the elusive hundredth daughter, the Wyrmfall Sea became a haven for the undead and profane, and now the students of Mournglade wage a war of resistance against the very family who once taught them to fight the monsters which now stalk their very streets.

IX.

THE PHRYGIAN REBELLION AND THE WAR OF TARNISHED SCALES

In the darkness of the Shadewood, the lives of the poorer folk are often unnecessarily difficult. Animals made more cunning and aggressive by their exposure to the magic of the forest. The scarcity of resources had led to a life of constant struggle, with hunters facing increasingly deadly predators and farmers battling blighted crops. All the while, those who can afford to make a living in the cities are still under the thumb of their betters. After so long under struggle and pain, many poor folk were desperate for any relief. Then, when the Empire collapsed, the Shadefolk were exposed to the republican ideals of Ventalia. Many of them began to question the need for lords and their forced privations. One of those leading voices was a merchant by the name of Phobos Phrygian. She was born to mud, whose family had been cruelly cut down by a wicked nobleman. She worked her way up, eventually becoming a wealthy and powerful antiquarian who specialized in the sale of dragon parts. She made several attempts to pay off mercenary companies in order to cause discord in the dragon city of Shorefang, but each time the companies she bought attacked, they were rebuffed. This caused her to seek a darker magic, a magic of deeper cold… so, she cut out her own eye, replacing it with the eye of the fallen white dragon Gathrim. Thus was revealed to her a fount of ice magic, and a method by which it might be taught to others. She trained 5,000 men in her mystical ways, and declared that all of filthy noble blood would freeze and shatter under the unending tide of the Phrygian frost. During a victory parade in the city of Shorefang, Phrygian rebels hidden within a company of Green Cloaks attacked the noble quarters. Phobos Phrygian herself died in the fighting, to be replaced by the dragon Domagal, in guise of a noblewoman called Paola Lunarguard. To hold onto her legacy, Paola Lunarguard, the dragon in disguise, vowed to continue Phobos Phrygian's crusade. She showed her ultimate commitment to her cause by murdering her own father, Ossir; dragon lord of Shorefang. Then she seized control of the city, vowing to bring justice to enemies of liberty everywhere. She was almost killed in a confrontation with her older brother Nohdrath, but she survived with an injury to one of her wings; and Nohdrath managed to escape into the Crypt Ridges.

Domagal and the Phrygian Frost have waged war across the Wyrmfall valley for five grueling years now. The dragon's ruthless pursuit of justice has left the Fall in ruins, its once-bountiful lands now scarred by conflict and despair. She has surrounded the whole of the valley in a 500 foot tall wall of ice, to prevent the intervention of the other powers of Ulithar in her plot of idealogical purity. Meanwhile, her brother Nohdrath (or someone acting in his name) wages a bloody war of vengeance against the Frost. The Revolution has seized control of almost all major settlements in the valley. Though war has devastated the lives of many, the reign of the revolution has not been entirely destructive. The quality of life for the small folk has certainly improved, with the wages of many people increasing, and access to healing magic is more widespread than ever. The revolution under the dragon's leadership has sparked newfound hope and aspirations, despite the devastation left in its wake. Some, however, whisper of darker forces at work in the land. A group of worshippers of Saint Zorus known as Our Church of the Sea-Ghost Lady has been gaining prominence along the coast, and some say they orchestrated the war for sinister purpose…

X.

THE CHILDEWOOD AND THE MOTHER TREE

There are, across the width and breadth of Ulithar, thousands of acres of woods. There are a million trees of various sizes and shapes; all with unique quirks of their cultivars that make them suited for different purposes. Lavantrian elm is good for making ship’s hulls. Wyrmfall Shadeoak is good for house timber. Kyathari willows make wondrous hunting bows. One tree, however, seems purpose built to thrive and let others flourish ‘neath her boughs: our Mother Tree.

Mother tree, standing tall for over 50,000 years, reaches an impressive height of over 700 feet. Her limbs extend outward in a ten-mile radius from her trunk, creating a canopy that seems to touch the sky. Her leaves, like sunlight filtering through a window pane, emit a soft, gentle glow, never so bright as to be overwhelming for those who dwell beneath her. Legends speak of a family of squirrel-folk from the Faewild, skilled arborists for a fairy court. One fateful day, driven by unexplained motives, they stole away a magical sapling from the Faewild and brought it to the Material Plane. They planted this sapling on a prairie in Ulithar, and it flourished rapidly, causing an extraordinary explosion of tree growth that transformed the area into a forest in a matter of days. Within three centuries, the animals who settled in this forest underwent significant transformations. They constructed dwellings, developed languages, crafted tools, and composed sagas. They began referring to themselves as the descendants of the great tree, hence naming the forest the Childewood. The Woodsfolk society flourished for millennia, maintaining a harmonious covenant with the Mother. Kingdoms rose, changed, and eventually met their downfall, only to be succeeded by yet others. The longest period of stability lasted for 4,000 years, coinciding with the time when humans began settling near the base of Mother Tree. However, conflicts arose between the humans and the Woodsfolk as both groups sought to claim ownership of the sacred land. The humans believed they could build upon the very flesh of Mother Tree, a notion the Woodsfolk deemed heretical. The last of the Woodsfolk Great Houses, which we will examine later, were preoccupied with their own affairs and were unable to comprehend the human threat. Consequently, humans began draining the sap from Mother Tree, constructing a city atop rounded amber plates anchored to her trunk. This city, known as Davwar, stands to this day, and though millions of humans and their ilk call the city home, almost none of them realize that they have made their home in a stolen place. Woodsfolk make up less than one third of the population of Davwar, with most of them living deeper in the Childewood. They view the giant city from afar, mourning the ancient ties now severed by human encroachment. Still, a few great houses keep opposing the human occupation… when they can stop their petty politicking long enough to mount an effort.

House Leporon

House Leporon is made up of harefolk, who are renowned as knights and fighting men. They are currently led by Lord Harswaen (Har-swayne) Leporon, from the seat of Highleap Keep. Leporon folk are the very picture of chivalry, which can sometimes make them arrogant, but they are beloved by their people. They once ruled a kingdom known as Delliphos, as Monarchs of the Morning, but they were crushed in a disastrous war against Davwar shortly after the city was founded, leaving them so weak that their vassals broke away from the kingdom.

(House Leporon is heavily inspired by medieval France)

House Ursdotter

House Ursdotter is made up of bearfolk and are known for their excellent fortification building. They are currently led by Lady Vylgos (Vile-goes) Ursdotter, from the seat of Deepcave. Ursdotters are known for being almost darkly humorous. They make plenty of jokes about doom and gloom because of their status at the “hibernating house.” They were once kings of the kingdom of Farhalter, but were defeated by House Felindry and now serve as their vassals.

(House Ursdotter is heavily inspired by medieval Norway)

House Felindry

House Felindry is made up of cat-folk (including both Tabaxi and Leonin.) They are famed as great scholars and infiltrators. House Felindry is currently led by King Julvat (Jull vat) of the Kingdom of Canovail. Julvat Felindry, rules from the seat of Pounce. House Felindry is the only remaining Woodsfolk house who still call themselves kings, having houses Ursdotter, Aquilar, Al'Musc, Sciursar, Vulpater, and Procovos, as their vassals, as well as many minor houses under them. They are known for their serious yet good hearted nature. They are beloved by their people and fiercely defended.

(House Felindry is heavily inspired by medieval Scotland)

House Aquilar

House Aquilar is made up of birdfolk (of many varieties). They are famed for being talented artists, and for studying the stars. They are currently ruled by Lord Volgo Aquilar, who rules from the castle of Pinion Peak. They are the newest of the noble houses, having only united the many birdfolk of the Childewood 150 years ago. Compared to the other houses of the wood, the Aquilar are still very young, and their constituents are all chaffing at the ties to the eagles of Pinion Peak. Consequently, the eagles have allied themselves to house Al'Musc.

(House Aquilar is heavily based on medieval Spain)

House Al'Musc

House Al'Musc is made up of mousefolk. They are famous for their abilities as scouts, spies and trackers. Their current Lord is Azer Al'Musc, and he rules from the seat known as the Pebble. Once upon a time, the Muscans were the kings of the whole Childewood, until the vassals of the mice rebelled against a wicked mouse king and put the first of the Felindry kings on the throne.

(House Al’Musc is heavily based on medieval Iraq)

House Vulpater

House Vulpater is made up of foxfolk. They are famous as warriors and knights, as well as for their rivalry with House Leporon. They are led by Lord Raynard Vulpater, and he rules from Redrock. The Vulpaters of Redrock have served the realm as generals and leaders of soldiers for years, never holding a kingly throne, content to revel in the glory of service.

(House Vulpater are heavily based on medieval England)

House Sciursar

House Sciursar is made up of squirrelfolk. They are the highly pious stewards of the forest itself. They’re currently led by Lady Folvata Sciursar from the seat of Hollowknot. The Sciursar are notable for claiming descent from the squirrels who brought the Mother Tree to Ulithar, making them highly regarded by the laity of the Childewood.

(House Sciursar is heavily based on medieval Armenia)

House Procovos

House Procovos is made up of raccoonfolk, and they are noted for their abilities as merchants and traders. They rule from the seat of Smokehall, and their current leader is Lady Larros Procovos. House Procovos is notable for being the only house to have officially made embassy at the courts of the humanoid kingdoms of Ulithar. They brought many things back from their voyages, including an appreciation for the humanoid culture. Notably, they are the only nobles who do not worship the Mother Tree, instead worshiping a Fae Queen known as the Lady Ophelia.

(House Procovos is heavily based on medieval Russia)

XI.

THE RAVEN QUEEN

Death, even in the fantastical and wondrous realm of Ulithar, is a terrifying experience. Every culture has its own representation of death, a deity or goddess who embodies the final moment and the afterlife. Ysmar, the Death Preparer; Orcus, the Grave Tender; Kelvus, They Who Cleanse the Soul—all these figures wield power, but their influence is limited to the final breath and those who willingly summon them. Only one goddess holds dominion over all paths leading to eternal oblivion: She Whose Children Eat the Dead—the Raven Queen.

The Raven Queen is a goddess whose worshippers are devoted exclusively to her; a rarity in Ulithar. Most common folk keep many gods, and monotheists are rare outside of the most dedicated of clerics, but this is a requirement of the Raven Queen. She is the end of all, and thus all will fall under her hands eventually. Her followers believe that having more than one deity would dilute their devotion, weakening their bond with the mistress of finality. They congregate in hidden temples called Ebonfanes, which are built into abandoned and disused mausoleums. There, they whisper the names of all who have ever died in their communities, praying for the peaceful rest of the souls of all. Not only do they not believe in an afterlife, they believe that all souls should be pulled from the afterlives; all the heavens and hells and Limbo too; and that the soul should be destroyed upon death. Death is the final end, after all, and to suggest that the soul persists beyond the flesh is profane. Their creed is one of solemnity and inevitability, echoed in the chants that reach the cold stone ceilings of their sacred Ebonfanes. They spend their lives in preparation for their own deaths. Many worshippers wear cloaks of raven feathers at all times, so that it might be used as a funeral shroud if they are nearby when someone dies. This tradition symbolizes their readiness to embrace the cycle's end, to become one with oblivion. They are not the sort of priests most would call upon when nearing death, for not many people find comfort in the Raven Mother’s mercy of nothingness, but for those who do not keep gods, and thusly know their souls will not find an afterlife, will allow for Her embrace.

While eternal life is not condoned by the cult of the Raven Queen, this is not to say that they refuse to cooperate with the undead. She employs vampires to carry out her long term goals, but forbids them from completely draining beings of blood, or from making new vampires. These are 200 vampires who willingly remain in her service. Her Undead 200 are led by Lord Strahd von Zarovich, the oldest and most powerful vampire on Ulithar. He serves as her direct emissary, ensuring that her will is carried out among the living and the undead.

When a conflict of massive scale threatens to send too many lives to their end unnaturally, or when a lich arises to attempt to raise an undead army, the Raven Queen will seek a roguish champion to become her Sable Shield; a warrior of shadow to deal righteous death to the unrighteous. To protect the world of the living from the dead. This Shield of Shadows will serve until the threat is eliminated, at which point they will die to sit at the Raven Queen’s side forevermore. It is said that when the ultimate threat of unlife comes for Ulithar, all of the Raven Queen’s previous companions will rise again to aid the last, hopefully ending lichdom forever. As they are the only followers of the Raven Queen who are promised an afterlife, they are paradoxically reviled by her clergy, despite their important role in the plans of the Raven Lady.

The Raven Queen is not like other gods. No mortals sing hymnals in her name, no shrines are kept with her visage upon them, and those who worship her have no concept of a reward for their sacrifices. The only thing they seek is the peace of mind which comes from finality. The final end and the final beauteous love… of the glorious Raven Queen.

XII.

BAHAMUT, THE GLEAMING DRAGON

It is not for mortal beings to pass judgment. Mortals are too fickle, too weak of spirit to know the right of even the most trivial of matters. So say the priests of Shining Plate, those holy folk who bear the dragon upon their breast. They contend that one must have the wings to soar above the conflict of petty mortality, and who must soar more highly than a dragon? Moreover, who should soar highest but the Highest of All Dragons? He Whose Kingdom is Justice and Whose Throne is Freedom… the Platinum Lord, the Dragon Bahamut.

Initially, Bahamut created the world alongside his sister, Tiamat. This was a world of many differing p