This page features brief encyclopedia-style entries on the continents and countries of the world of Lyron.
The map of Lyron was commissioned by Matt B. from Edwin Menzo of Fantasy Map Shop.
The remains of the Olereo Ascendancy, the Olereo Heartlands were the center of magical study and government in Meira. From here, magisters ruled with an iron fist over most of the continent, including the Rhystic League, Skoldvatten, Faren, Kessistrad, and the Storm Islands. Druidic and divine magic were oppressed as threats to the state.
After the magister Olereo the Ascended was vanquished, the Ascendancy fell into civil war and the very land itself was broken apart in the fighting by powerful magic. That fighting is technically still ongoing, although the magisters who began it have long since perished. Today, the Heartlands are dominated by one warlord or another, each claiming the legitimacy of the old order and struggling for resources and power. Fighting occasionally spills over the borders, with raiders pillaging to support their internal conflicts.
Among the current crop of warlords, Wrox Ironbinder and Lura Highblade are the most prominent. Wrox has seized most of the urban centers — or what’s left of them — and has a large core of wizards at his back. Lura is a recent upstart, but has been able to rally many to her banner with claims of fair treatment and rule of law, no impressment, and tolerance expressed for druids and clerics. Dubbed “the Rebel Lioness” by her more hopeful troops, Lura Highblade is viewed by idealists as a slim chance of peace, and by cynics as just another bloodthirsty warlord.
As the Ascendancy began to break up, the cities not embroiled in the initial fighting quickly declared their independence and denounced the old regime. As things stabilized, those cities entered into an alliance which was formalized in the city of Rhyst (though there was much behind-the-scenes politicking and deal-making to decide which city got that honor). The terms of the alliance mostly concerned themselves with mutual defense, but out of that seed, many other laws and edicts have come about, always with great hoopla among the moneyed and political elites.
Broadly, the cities that make up the Rhystic League were the economic and monetary heart of the Ascendancy, and that tradition is alive and well. Entrepreneurs and innovators are always looking to apply arcane magic in new and unexpected ways, almost always to turn a profit. Each city has their economic niche. While they may bicker, they also broadly see that they are stronger together.
Thyram is the breadbasket, bolstering production with arcane magic and marketing potions, foodstuffs, and beverages (alcoholic and otherwise) to the world at large. Ordiza is a bastion of tinkering and invention, unorthodox even by Rhystic standards; it is also on the forefront of artifice and the fusion of machinery and magic. Uryn is a military and naval powerhouse, controlling access to the Velvet Sea and hosting a variety of academies focused on refining the elite of the Rhystic League in everything from etiquette and art to magic, warfare, and espionage.
Lastly, Rhyst itself — a sprawling city of canals, embassies, and manor estates — acts as the de facto capital of the League. Social events are a nightly occurrence: frequently aboard pleasure yachts, attended by various socialites and debutantes, as well as spies and assassins. Cafes, universities, and trading houses dominate the rest of the city, creating a sense of hustle and bustle that never quite ceases.
Among recognized governments, the Rhystic League possesses the greatest carryover of culture from the Ascendancy, no matter how forcefully they denounce their previous overlords. While laws discriminating against clerics and druids have been formally repealed in every city, there is still a social stigma associated with those forms of magic. Despite this, religious worship and temples that sprang up after the breakup of the Ascendancy are still enjoying a period of steady, if occasionally turbulent, growth.
There are always machinations going on in the League’s shadow. Usually, it’s personal politics embroiling city councils, or the schemes of merchant associations undercutting each other, but broad turmoil isn’t hard to find, either. Resentment still smolders following the Velvet War with the Calix Triumvirate, sparked by the alleged annexation of the Rhystic city of Pommes. Additionally, rumors abound of revolution, sedition, and separatism in Uryn. Finally, the invention of airships by the tinkers of Ordiza has threatened to upset the balance of power.
Prior to the rise of the Ascendancy, a group of settlers from Hjemsgaarda landed on the coast of what would later be known as Skoldvatten. They intermingled with the locals and established a monarchy that abided by both traditions. Druidic and clerical magic combined with seafaring skill to spark an agricultural revolution and a population boom: both native-born and immigrant.
As Skoldvatten blossomed, the Ascendancy struck, overthrowing the monarchy and seizing the breadbasket of the land for themselves. Dissidents were hunted down and imprisoned, or worse. All hope had been lost.
Then, a young peasant woman named Iona received a vision of the goddess Evara, who blessed her with divine arms and armor and a dictate to overthrow the Ascendancy. By some accounts, she was one of the fisherfolk; by others, a stablehand, and others still, a herbalist. Regardless, she gathered allies among like-minded folk, some also claiming divine guidance. They stoked discord and disobedience while they gathered strength, and in a well-executed strike they assaulted Olereo himself and his strongest magisters.
Nobody knows what exactly happened next, but Olereo was vanquished, and Iona and her companions emerged unscathed. They restored the rightful monarchy to the throne, but also spearheaded the establishment of a commoner’s parliament and other reforms. The monarchy embraced these reforms and sponsored the creation of nine knightly orders by Iona’s companions to safeguard the world from injustice, especially that of improperly-used magic.
Iona herself reestablished the Temple of Evara and rebuilt the clergy, walking the land to build chapels and shrines to her goddess and restore the vaunted farmlands of Skoldvatten. When the time came, she still donned her armor and rode into battle in defense of the innocent, but she preferred the life of a vagabond priest: a simply-clothed wanderer offered an extra hand sowing or reaping crops, or tending to the hurts and sicknesses of those in need.
The balance of power between the monarchy and the various knightly orders is in jeopardy. Raids from the Olereo Heartlands to the south, whispers of plague across the mountains in Kessistrad, and fraying relations between the Rhystic League and the Triumvirate prompt calls to action. Queen Runa the Young opts for patience, deliberation, and diplomacy, while some in the knightly orders call for action.
Faren is split between the towns in the southwestern lowlands — home to verdant farmlands and slow-flowing rivers — and the dense forests that give the kingdom its namesake. Those forests are host to a population of herbalists, woodcutters, hunters, lakefolk, and druids. They’ve joined together into a nation with a deep connection to the natural world in all its forms.
Faren is formally ruled by a monarch, but the vast majority of governing is conducted by elected councils. Each local area elects a council to make decisions, those councils send members to regional councils, and those regional councils send members to the royal court. Each council only handles issues that impact its members, with anything greater being sent up the chain. The monarch’s role is that of a tiebreaker and mediator, along with diplomat and battlefield commander. This governmental structure is heavily influenced by elven culture. The royal family is a mixture of hardy Farenese human stock and graceful elven blood, as is much of the country.
The southern farmlands fell under the sway of the Ascendancy, same as Skoldvatten, but the forest was never subjugated and became a bastion of resistance. They were able to survive through the magic of powerful druids from all across the land who sought refuge in this primal stronghold.
After the Ascendancy’s collapse, Faren opened up. The southern farmlands have taken quite a bit of influence from Skoldvatten, including developing a burgeoning knightly tradition and a renewed devotion to Evara. The inner forests have remained rather “old-fashioned.” They don’t wholly reject these new changes, and in fact think the nation is stronger for them — they just prefer to worship, live, and fight in the manner of their ancestors.
The current monarch, King Aerdeth Greenmantle, is a chivalrous knight, a charming diplomat, and opinionated poet. He is beloved by his people — and this could be a problem, as he threatens to overstep the ancient boundaries on the monarchy of Faren. Traditionalists within the government, including longstanding royal advisor Archdruid Edran the Ageless, are quite concerned about the current situation.
Kessistrad is a land of suffering and struggle. Previously, it was a series of independent and loosely associated homesteads and frontier settlements focused on trapping, mining, and lumberjacking. But Kessistrad took a turn for the worse when it fell under the sway of the Ascendancy, and became a land of country estates, extravagant mansions, and remote towers for the magisters of the Ascendancy. The populace was forced to shift from self-sufficiency to serving the tastes of their new overlords, both with artisanal crafts and with manual labor.
When the Ascendancy fell, the magisters with the most magical power were either dead or fighting it out in the Heartlands. Those remaining in Kessistrad doubled down on ruling their patch of the empire through tyranny and fear. This could only go so far without the threat of catastrophic magical assault. Eventually, the magisters disappeared from public display, and the prisoners in their dungeons were released back to their lives. But joy soon turned to despair when those prisoners fell sick. So began the Plague.
To make matters worse, other forces began to fill the power vacuum left by the magisters. Lycanthropes from the far north began pushing south, hunting prey at will. Upstart “nobles” began claiming “familial estates” by strength of arms. Amoral magic users from across the lands began to pour in, seeking sanctuary from prying eyes. Other monsters, and worse, soon followed.
And yet, the Kessistravians endured. The remaining townships and villages quickly fortified and banded together to quarantine and care for the sick, along with defending against the onslaught of invaders. The old trades were revived to provide livelihoods, and craftspeople turned towards fashioning ingenious defenses for their homes. This was their land by right — and damned if they’re going to leave it.
The Plague is still rampant and monster numbers, two legged and otherwise, are growing. However, an order of plague doctors has emerged: the Lodge of Crows. They embrace the worship of Evara, druidic magic, and traditional medicine to treat the sickness, and they travel the land, healing the sick and slaying the wicked — skill with a scalpel cuts both ways, after all. Despite all they do, there is still a degree of stigma associated with their work from the fortified towns as a result of their occasionally brutal methods. They’ve taken to anonymity, only removing their masks in trusted company.
After rebelling against Marthos’ domination, the goblinoids found solidarity in each other, forging a republic where each goblin, hobgoblin, and bugbear would always have a place. Three elected legislative bodies elect a three-person executive council. Goblinoids have citizenship granted automatically, and other races may be granted citizenship by performing service to the Triumvirate or by political edict.
Under this system, the Triumvirate expanded and flourished. Marvels of engineering have produced some of the greatest cities in Lyron. The Senates rule fairly and justly — as fairly as a complex republican system of governance can — and the three goblinoid races live in harmony.
With the advent of arcane magic, the Triumvirate adopted it quickly and efficiently enough to maintain their status quo and deter aggression from the Ascendancy. As a lingering influence of Marthos’ meddling, organized religion never really took off, but it’s not formally suppressed. Similarly, druidic magic tends to be at odds with the urban focus of much of the Triumvirate and only exists in small pockets: typically in the mountains or swamps, away from prying eyes.
However, a group of goblinoids unhappy with the regimented nature of society, who believe every individual is their own monarch, have broken away from the Triumvirate. The Many Crowns, as they’ve dubbed themselves, have taken to the mountains and seized the largest pass. They’ve brokered an agreement whereby the Triumvirate can still use it, but that any goblin who wishes can join them without consequence. This has angered the more traditionalist members of the Senates, but as it stands, they have more to lose than gain by striking at them.
Looming large over the current political situation is the aftermath of the Velvet War. After the Infernal Incursion, the Rhystic city of Pommes called for aid and the Calix legions responded. They marched through the Crown’s Pass and relieved the beleaguered city, stationing a legion there to keep it safe from infernal remnants. Feeling they’d been abandoned by the Rhystic League, Pommes petitioned to be admitted to the Triumvirate. Their request was granted by the Senates, and every citizen of Pommes was also granted citizenship in the Triumvirate.
With the formal leadership of Pommes dead in the initial attack, the more hawkish leaders of the Rhystic League declared that the city had been annexed by the Triumvirate and mobilized for war. There were several skirmishes — including a bloody naval clash, the Battle of Pommes Bay — before the truth came out and peace was negotiated. In turn, hawks in the Triumvirate are worried about another Rhystic attack — or other retaliatory measures, like blockading the entrance to the Velvet Sea — and have renewed their naval presence across the board.
The ogres of the Golur Assembly are something of a mystery. They were not claimed or directed by a deity. They did not emerge from the Feywild or the Shadowfell, like the elves. And they are not as indifferent to their beginnings as the halflings are. Theories abound as to their origins, and the oral tradition is varied and self-contradictory. There are very few written records, leaving ogre scholars to scour the libraries and archives of other nations, or turn towards archeology in hopes of uncovering physical evidence.
No society, bar the Ascendancy, has been more influenced by arcane magic. Crafting and masonry are conducted on a massive scale, with arcane wards acting as mortar to bind together boulders and slabs of stone in breathtaking feats of architecture. Industry and innovation are spurred onwards using arcane magic as a power source.
While some search for answers in the past, others look towards the future. The Assembly is a direct democracy, and every ogre has a say in decisions, from the declaration of war to local policy. Colossal amphitheaters host debates and votes, transmitted magically across Golur. They’ve fostered close ties with the Triumvirate, supporting each other diplomatically and militarily.
A recent scholarly theory on the potential origins of ogres has rocked the Assembly. Under this theory, the ogres are magically-evolved hill giants, themselves devolutions of the giants of the elemental planes. This would, by extension, make ogres distant cousins of dwarves. Evidence for this idea is sparse, but solid enough to be believed. Some have embraced it, sending envoys to dwarven holds; some have even started to worship the dwarven gods. Others consider it a distraction from more tangible scholarly and industrial pursuits. Debate concerning the path forward has consumed the Assembly for years now, and consensus has yet to be reached.
When the elves entered the material plane from the echo planes of the Feywild and the Shadowfell, one entrance was an oasis in the Akkari Desert. The elves quickly adapted to their new home, forming nomadic clans to live off the land. Anyone who wished to join them could, and over the years, many have. Some clans settled in oases or coastal settlements, and still others roamed the scorching sands and sun-baked rocks.
The elves of Akkar respected and revered their new home, deifying features of the natural world around them: the life-giving oasis water, the constant sun, the biting wind, the oceans of sand. This reverence dovetailed with the druidism brough by dwarven vagabonds, and even managed to co-exist with wizardly study. Many still choose monastic life, dwelling in hermitages nestled in the dunes or perched atop mesas to find meaning as monks.
Beyond magic, the trials of the desert forged brilliant archers, daring cavalry, and arguably the best swordmasters in Lyron. The nomads pursued these ends for self-defense, minor skirmishes between clans, and the occasional raid on neighboring Zur, but large-scale offensive warfare has never been in their plans. Defensive warfare, however, is something of a tradition. From retaliatory attacks out of the grasslands of Zur, to large-scale invasions from the Ascendancy in efforts to hunt druidic refugees and expand, the Akkari nomads always drew their foes into the desert and bled them dry.
After the destruction of Zur, many tiefling refugees fled the blighted land for the desert. The nomads helped as much as they could, and local settlements have swelled with these refugees, but tensions have bubbled as time has passed. The elf sage Rafiq, a widely-respected figure, has his hands full keeping the peace.
Separately, a group of dragonborn from Vuun have landed on the western shores and formed the community of Sesaisa. They’ve been friendly and peaceful, but cagey when asked about why they’ve arrived. Rumors and speculation abound, seemingly encouraged by the dragonborn.
The Zurette Empire was previously a shining jewel of Akkar, with rolling grasslands and foothills sustaining strong urban centers. Though predominantly human, the Empire sponsored caravans over the mountains and across the dunes to facilitate the sale of exotic goods from Akkar and Vuun at the bustling port city of Urak-Zur, and became fabulously wealthy in the process. They embraced arcane magic as the Ascendancy did, hoping to stay on good terms with their largest trading partner and obtain increased wealth and power.
This avarice grew too much. Cults of Marthos spread, promising ever-greater rewards for entering his service, until the true reward was revealed. The cults carried out simultaneous rituals in each city of the Empire, purporting to imbue the cultists with their dark master’s power. Instead, it shifted those cities, and everyone in them, into the lower planes: Marthos’ domain.
The poor souls subjected to this fate were tormented by Marthos’ servants; twisted and corrupted into madness and bent to his will, they turned into tieflings. The barrier between the planes weakened, and infernal influence blasted the land itself into desolation, transforming anyone who was lucky enough to not be in a city into a tiefling as well: albeit ones still in full control of their mind.
The only area spared was Urak-Zur, as the cultists were discovered and their ritual foiled. However, the damage was already done. Overnight, the Empire shattered. Tiefling refugees flooded into Urak-Zur, making slums out of a once-grand city. Others fled into the desert, over the mountains, or across the seas.
Today, the government of Urak-Zur, a shadow of its former self, still tries to maintain even a fragment of its former power. The wastes have become home to a milieu of bandits, scavengers, and recluses — either exiles from Urak-Zur, or those who are just simply unlucky — squabbling over scraps. The weakening boundaries between the planes allow fiends to slip through more easily, and those exposed to the blighted land manifest strange and weird magical powers, much to the terror of travelers.
Urak-Zur is a powder keg. The refugees are in dire need of aid that the government simply cannot provide. There are whispers that the wastelanders are organizing into clans and will march upon the city to raze what’s left of the old empire. These ideas are dismissed as nonsense by government officials, while those same officials desperately attempt to rebuild their military.
In the wastelands, a group of druids known as the Ashtoil Grove, have organized in an attempt to heal the land and mend the tear between the planes. They’ve had some success, but have also faced struggles from the other denizens of the wastes, feuding with bandits and raiders who covet their druidic-grown produce. They’ve had some diplomatic success with the various sorcerer bands — however, that itself may be cause for concern if the rumors about the sorcerers are to be believed.
The rainforests of the Mahogany Courts range from temperate to tropical, and are defined by regular rainfall and colossal plant life. The northernmost islands trend towards a more Mediterranean climate.
Culturally and politically, the Courts are diverse. Broadly, they get along with their neighbors and disdain wider foreign relations. Conflicts are settled by mediation, and attempts at conquest are generally diffused by diplomacy. Additionally, a strong scholarly tradition fosters powerful magic users, along with small corps of skilled warriors.
Philosophers and scholars dominate the upper classes, while a strong middle class of merchants and sea captains handle much of what becomes public policy. Gnomish and orcish ideas mingle together to form the backbone of the common culture.
There has been some mild economic turmoil as a result of semi-recent events. Destruction to the west has dimmed Urak-Zur’s trading potential, and the tensions between the Rhystic League and the Triumvirate has merchants unwilling to move their goods into the Velvet Sea. To compound all of this, refugees from Zur have fled over the mountains, ballooning populations and straining support systems.
Vuun was the land of dragons. In the aftermath of a cataclysmic civil war between metallic and chromatic dragons, chromatic dragons wiped out the metallic dragons and established a domain on the continent of Vuun. Dragonborn — magically created servants — served as soldiers and laborers on both sides of that conflict. The dragons empowered the Dragonhouses — a ruling class of collaborators — to actually govern, while the dragons could scheme against one another and amass their hoards from the wealth of their subjects.The Dragonhouses, each bearing the sorcerous power of one of the colors of the chromatic dragons, ruled with an iron fist.
What shocked the world, however, was the Dragonhouses’ betrayal. They shattered the Heart of Bahamut, a relic from the draconic civil war that had become an anchor for Tiamat’s presence on the material plane. With their goddess banished, the disorganized dragons were hunted down or driven off, and their hoards were seized by the Dragonhouses, who rule to this day.
The only other social institution allowed is a series of monasteries, practicing monastic forms inspired by various dragons. They tend to be more down-to-earth and involved in solving the problems of common folk. The dragons, in their vanity, viewed this as a form of worship and allowed it. After their coup, the Dragonhouses did not take action against the monasteries, not wanting to anger their subjects by attacking a popular institution.
The dragonborn and their kobold cousins technically obtained citizenship and freedom when the Dragonhouses consolidated their rule. While they’d never been chattel slaves in the traditional sense, they had been a part of their draconic masters, in the same way a tooth or a claw is. If broken, it can regrow. This mindset was, and is, difficult to shift. Some have fled, either to a renewed draconic civilization in the Cinderscale Islands or to the wider world. Others cannot leave conflict and service behind, and serve instead as mercenaries, soldiers, or adventurers in Vuun or abroad.
Kobolds, on the other hand, are a byproduct of the magical processes that originally created dragonborn. Discarded “rejects” dumped into the wilderness have quickly become something of an invasive species. Kobolds can alter their biology to become any color of draconic heritage, and thus can survive wherever they might wind up. They’ve long formed the underbelly of Vuunian society: either in inhospitable wilderness enclaves or the sewers and gutters of Vuunian cities. This has proven to be a refuge for dissenters, even before the fall of the dragons themselves.
This state of affairs continues to cause tensions with dragonborn leaders organizing each other and the kobolds into dedicated political blocs and agitating for specific goals encouraged by the draconic monasteries. If successful, this could very easily lead to rapid societal upheaval.
Dwarves are, by their own reckoning, the oldest race to inhabit Lyron. Some chalk this assessment up to pride; others, to meticulous dwarven recordkeeping. Regardless, a deep history chronicles the lineages of various dwarven clans as they spread across the land, and it is that land that they cherish. Whether dwelling in their mountain homes or roaming far and wide, a connection to the natural world is paramount to dwarven culture.
The secrets of druidism were uncovered by the dwarves and shared with the other races, and the balance between the elemental planes is a cardinal tenant of dwarven religion and society. The four dwarven gods, who each inhabit one of the elemental planes and govern that element, are worshiped in unison. Common metaphors in religious dogma for that union include the Forge and the Mountain. The foremost religious figures in dwarven culture are heralded as Mountainsages, who ruminate on the relationship between the elements and what can be learned from them.
Wandering dwarves still value the balance of the elements, but they tend to adopt a wider viewpoint rather than hemming themselves into the Forge and the Mountain. Rather, they prefer to explore and experience the elements in their many varied forms, including the pure majesty of the Wild.
Settled dwarves tend to maintain mountain strongholds shaped by mining and masonry, and defined by smithing and crafting. Each clan elects their own royal families, although most monarchs have established enough legitimacy that elections are rarely called. In times of trouble, clans tend to withdraw and erect powerful wards and defenses against the outside world, outlasting the threat.
Each clan has their own relationship with the various peoples of the world, but even the most open clans still remember the fate of Vuun’s dwarven strongholds: destroyed by dragons and stripped of their treasures.
The dwarven hold of Dawnstone, on the eastern border of Skoldvatten, is still reeling from an attempted coup that slaughtered the majority of the royal family. The remaining heir, Gilda Dawnstone, was rather far down the line of succession. As such, she had been permitted to live and study in the Skoldvatten capital of Kjalla. There, she began worshiping Evara and joined a knightly order. When she learned of the coup, she rallied her knights to retake the hold. Her heroic actions saw her elected queen, and sparked an interest in dwarven lands of worshiping Evara. Gilda herself does not eschew the dwarven gods, but her embrace of Evara has caused some murmurs of discontent.
Other holds have their own trials and tribulations, but the common issue of increasing influence from the surface — including the introduction and increased practice of arcane and non-dwarven clerical magics, and the arrival of ogre envoys and converts — has contributed to societal tensions.
The Cinderscale Islands are an intensely hostile place to live. The geography is characterized by active volcanic plumes of ash and smoke, toxic and caustic gasses and liquids, deposits of iron and other metals magnetized and electrified by mysterious energies, and bitterly cold temperatures at higher elevations. However, to the dragonborn that live there, it is home.
These dragonborn fled Vuun and strove to establish a new homeland for dragonkind, untainted by the legacy of Vuun. Some have begun to worship Bahamut, restoring a metallic dragon tradition long since wiped out. Others merely want a life for themselves, free from the Dragonhouses.
There is some strife between metallic and chromatic dragonborn stemming from the battles between their ancestors. Leaders of both draconic heritages are quick to settle these disputes, knowing that infighting is the biggest threat to their fragile society.
When it comes to outsiders, the Cinderscale Islands tend to be much more closed-off, for both practical and ideological reasons; very few, if any, outsiders have visited the settlements proper. As such, outsiders approaching the Islands are treated with more than a bit of suspicion, and outside of the Islands, rumors swirl about the true goings-on within.
The settlement of the Storm Islands began as a series of trading outposts set up by the Olereo Ascendancy in an attempt to open trading relationships with Vuun. The islands themselves are frequently the center of storm systems that sweep across the Wyrm’s Expanse. As the islands were also home to groves of stormwood — lumber remarkably suitable for ship construction and magical experimentation — these trading outposts quickly became booming shipyards as well.
Despite trade with the Ascendency being mutually beneficial, the Dragonhouses attempted to keep a monopoly on their side of the trading, sponsoring specific captains and ships to legally conduct business in those trading posts. Despite this effort, there was a strong community of smugglers, bringing in black market goods under the nose of the Dragonhouses and into the arms of Ascendancy magisters, who couldn’t care less about where their goods were coming from as long as it was profitable.
Those magisters relied upon their profits from shipping goods back to the mainland to keep their positions, as they were always in direct competition with other magisters. Soon they began to arm and sponsor “pirates” to waylay, or steal from, their rivals. This caused a chain reaction of other magisters funding pirates to rob their rivals.
Compounding this arms race was the unlocking of the secret of gunpowders. Drawn from materials sourced from both Vuun and the Ascendancy, gunpowder is formed from ingredients infused with each of the five chromatic draconic damage types and then bound together with a Ascendancy-developed wizardly spell. Thus, in addition to shipbuilding, the Storm Islands also became a center of arms development.
When the fracturing of the Ascendancy began and the Rhystic League declared their independence, those pirates took the opportunity to desert and start pillaging freely. The magisters on the Islands stayed loyal to the Ascendancy, knowing it was their only hope of holding onto power. Once the Ascendancy collapsed in earnest, however, Vuun attempted to annex the Islands: partly because of their previous grievances with the Storm Islands skirting Vuunian monopoly trading rules, and partly seeking to acquire means of producing gunpowder to supplement their dragonknights.
The pirates, who didn’t want to see their homes sacked, returned and fought the Vuunian invasion force. The Vuunians, inexperienced in amphibious landings, were trounced by the pirates. The pirates then ousted the corrupt magisters and declared their lands open to any and all who wanted to be free.
The capital was rechristened Stormtide, and the Stormtide Fleet continues to pillage and raid from its safe haven, protected by magics and cannon emplacements. The Islands continue to be a destination for smuggled goods and other illicit services. Thanks to those smuggled goods, and the Vuunian sorcerous defectors able to handle them, the stores of gunpowder needed to defend the nascent pirate republic are never in short supply.
The Stormtide Fleet’s emergence as the preeminent naval power galled authorities across Lyron. Any nation with a naval trading presence suddenly became subject to the threat of piracy, and militarily, the threat of gunpowder weapons winding up in the wrong hands is omnipresent.
Despite this, no nation besides Vuun has directly attempted to strike at the Storm Islands themselves, fearing massive retribution. The Vuunians themselves are still brooding over their defeat, and the threat of a larger, better-organized Vuunian invasion still looms over the Storm Islands — as is the threat of infiltration and espionage to steal the many valuable secrets held by those in power.
The islands of Hjemsgaarda are home to some of the oldest-recorded instances of humankind, with mentions from dwarven chronicles of meeting and trading with tall folk traveling in longships years before other instances of contact. It is generally agreed that these traders were the ancestors of the Hjem.
The islands are home to scattered settlements dedicated to fishing, farming, hunting, and trapping. The abundant lumber, treacherous coasts, and harsh interiors all encouraged the development of a shipbuilding tradition far outstripping most others. The Hjem ranged far and wide to trade — and to raid.
The Hjem tradition sees people follow those they view as most worthy of leadership. Kings and queens rose and fell on their own merits. If their children were worthy, they might take up leadership; if not, others would step in. At times, charismatic and powerful monarchs have united the islands to either coordinate raids over the seas, or meddle in the affairs of others lands as mercenaries or would-be conquerors.
The Hjem worship a pantheon of hero-gods: figures revered in story and song who have obtained divinity. These gods are rumored to still travel Hjemsgaarda in disguise to test the mettle and worth of the common people.
When the Incursion struck, the Hjem took an extreme step. The nine most powerful wizards across the land conducted a blood ritual to remove the islands from the material plane, carving runes into their own bodies to act as conduits. The ritual was a success and the islands were temporarily shifted into a demi-plane, and thus spared invasion from the fiendish onslaught. The wizards themselves were turned to stone, and stand to this day on the borders of the islands, a monument to their sacrifice.
However, this act, coupled with the Hjem history of raiding, has bolstered anti-Hjem sentiment across Lyron. They are viewed as having abandoned peoples they could have helped, and some even believe them to be in league with the fiends. Hjem ships are still welcome when bearing goods in foreign ports, but an uptick in bar brawls is sure to follow.
The Ascendancy’s suppression campaign against druids was not entirely a wholesale slaughter. Many druids, their sympathizers, or other general dissidents were shipped to prisons operated outside of the Ascendancy’s borders. One such prison, the Bulwark, was on an island seized from among the Mahogany Courts, one surrounded by treacherous reefs meant to prevent easy lines of attack or escape.
However, one convoy of prisoner ships was caught in a storm and wrecked on those reefs. The survivors took this opportunity to strike back against the Ascendancy, and they mounted an assault on the Bulwark. After its destruction, they constructed a new bulwark out of the reefs themselves, growing and fortifying them with druidic magic and fusing them with the bones of shipwrecks.
The reef-folk adapted to life at sea, communing with sea creatures and plant life and ensconcing themselves within the ecosystem to defend the ocean from all manner of threats. Bulwark Reef has become a bustling city and a surprisingly active trading port, acting as neutral ground at sea away from the prying eyes of governments and other interests.
The Reefwardens — the druids descended from the original shipwrecks and freed prisoners — have ideologically splintered after the breakup of the Ascendancy. Some embrace new arrivals to the reef, while others wish to fortify the reef even more to close it off from the surface and recede below the sea. These debates are mostly hashed out in internal council debates, but cracks in their formerly unified front do not go unnoticed by visiting sailors.