Lion's Fall
A Blight Born of Hubris
Embers still burn low in the heart of the Dream - in amber, violet, azure, gray. These embers may never die. These embers only burn red if fueled by flesh.
Above the pale firmament of smoke, an obelisk of marble, gleaming glass, and gold hovers over this heart like a ritual knife. Below, armor rusts among rows of bone-white wheat and jet-black sorghum. Blades both common and wondrous, Galasteri and elvish, stand like lonely weeds in the rich, black dirt. All the signs of war and death dot a landscape of bleached trees, chalky stone, and a fearful silence - all signs but one.
There are no corpses to be seen, no graves. Not a single sign of those who fell to this tainted earth. Even those who die now are corrupted, collapsing into ash with the dawn unless protected by magic.
They walk among the plumes of smoke now, carried on eddies of memory, hope, and nightmare. The fears and failures of the dead and never-dying rule this land now, twisting and warping all who stumble upon them. Wanderers are pulled into tragedies, playing out endless battles until they’re nothing more than coal to feed the smolders. Even the dead find no rest, enslaved to these vestiges' corruption.
Still, there are those willing to forge deep into Lion's Fall. For the brave, there’s the promise of salvage, for rescue, wealth, or comfort to the grieving. For the wise, there’s the search for a way to end this storm of sorrow and the scar left on the Dream by mad Savrias. For the few? There’s power - both the lost might of the Tower of Art floating over the wound and the glass Throne that left this mark.
The war ended with a flash of shock, pain, and horror, but no one knows if Savrias truly failed.
But if this is the shape of the fallen emperor’s victory, what nightmares will follow his terrible success?
Themes. Loss and gain, pain and power, the past and the future, conflict and common ground
Geography
The entirety of the tainted land is locked into a grim parody of winter. Despite the summer heat of the final battle, chill winds swirl up the dust and smoke from fissures of burning earth around and ever more beyond the fringes of the initial cataclysm. The horizon is bereft of color, with all of the vegetation either stricken white by the initial blast or growing with a glassy, black coating of obsidian. A desperate few have tried to eat ‘ghost grain’, with predictably horrific results. Trees, grasses, and even flowers grow in a vividly muted color scale, broken up only by the rich hues of ember beds like wounds in the ground and from the blood of outsiders who dare to enter.
A low wall of rubble and sharp-cut logs has been laid as a more permanent wall is constructed by the surviving Galasteri waylords of the region. It serves to keep wanderers out more than to keep anything in, though a few rare vestiges seek to breach out into the Dream at large to resolve whatever urgencies possess them. A once-fine palace has been converted into an imperial garrison, where Waylady Braddock holds her court of once-wealthy nobles and any soldiers strong enough to hold the line alongside her. This is the only area open to others, where a skilled few are still recruited to aid in the defense.
Two towers loom over Lion's Fall. The lesser of the two once served as an arcane study for the Braddock household and arcane students of the region. It, too, has been converted. The doors have been removed and the windows smoothed over with stone by magic. The only way in or out are through arcane means maintained by the Empress and Archwizard personally. Within? Khadijah Lohrian is kept far from the sight of others. As for the other? The Tower of Art, once leveraged as a weapon to break Savrias’s loyal forces, now hovers quiet and empty. Its defenses remain at a wary readiness, destroying any who rise to meet it. The ebb and flow of tainted magic course across its exterior, bound to the wound as if the tower stirs the smoke to motion.
Travel
When traveling through Lion's Fall (see Wayfinding), Arcana, History, and Perception are the only valid wayfinding skills and Perception checks to anticipate dangers suffer disadvantage. The increase in difficulty for traveling long distances apply at half the usual distance. Reduce rolled results on the Wayfinding chart that are not a 6 by 2. Any roll that’s less than a 6 must also check for Mishaps based on the guide’s familiarity with their destination, as listed in the teleport spell. Should the wayfinding result be a 1, roll percentile dice. On a result of 1-10, travelers leave the Dream entirely. A path of return is almost always available from Lion's Fall - a rift, portal, or other avenue within close but not easy reach.
One might encounter abandoned farmsteads, silent townships, or endlessly repeating skirmishes within Lion's Fall. Incursions from creatures of the Shadowfell are common, as are vestigial spirits and undead creatures bound to the soil of Lion's Fall and unable to leave it. The few small pockets of survivors are wary and often make demands to supplement their limited supplies and defenses. Each new moon, entire regiments of imperial, elvish, dwarven, or other troops find their way to a safe border of the smoky haze, either unaware of the passing years or harshly aware of just how long they’ve been trapped in a hell of Savrias’s making.
Peoples
The garrison and the people who support them are largely Galasteri. This was their home, and as the Empire strains under the weight of its losses and stifling war reparations, there are few other places to go. Children work the few remaining farms or enlist as they come of age, out of a sense of duty or the simple need for food and protection. Braddock and the other surviving waylords have put the last of their fortunes into the defense of the Dream from what’s been done, and have little left to spare for aid.
Bringing vital supplies and a few elite specialists are the Elvenkind. The twilight haze allows the daev to serve at all hours, so they make up the majority of the volunteer force. It’s unclear how far into the depths of the earth the corruption spreads, but they appear uninterested in sharing those details. The support of Elvenkind also involves their most dedicated wardens, growers, and sages doing battle with the soil itself, urging the green to overtake the wounded ground. So far, they’ve faced only failure.
The final, smallest contingent within Lion's Fall are those who slip past the garrison entirely, seeking their ends within the blight. From treasure hunters to veterans who cannot let go of old war wounds, they rarely return. Those who do rarely have pleasant tales to tell. A few return changed by what they found, with their flesh turned pale or blackened by something within and their memories lost to time. These ‘Refined’ have been seen in other parts of the Dream, but always near ancient ruins. Why here?
Among the warriors, working folk, healers, and so many others bound to Lion's Fall are pilgrims harmed by the ember ashes. Their burning wounds never quell. Instead, they spread and alter the body. For a rare few, this pain comes with newfound arcane power. The rest earn only a lifetime of constant pain. Due to this humanitarian crisis, a number of mystics, crafters, and healers have gravitated to Lion's Fall, using the patronage of the Empress herself, a few of her peers, and others to provide care and assistive aids to both those afflicted by Lion's Fall’s harms or simply any who arrive with a need.
Places and Faces
Braddock Garrison. Once a rather notorious pleasure palace, the compound’s walls have been reinforced with lead and salvaged stone to withstand the false ‘seasons’ and many dangers of Lion's Fall. A Border Guard rests in barracks made from converted guests rooms and a vacated harem. A smithy runs hot with crafters and sages, forging weapons against the ashen land in the ruins of an arena for dambe fighters and horse races. Researches and hedge arcanists sold or tossed out priceless volumes of poetry and lurid plays, stuffing the shelves with reports and primers of an endless war. Those few nobles and wealthy patrons who remain try to tolerate these “guests” and disseminate the remaining wine, games, and songs to those much in need of rest and reminders of more pleasurable days.
Savrias' Fall. On a hill overlooking the final battle of Savrias Lohrian, a throne of half-ethereal glass sits vacant. Snow and ash fall in equal measure over the expanse of the once-fertile valley. No one has been able to approach or study this phenomenon at the heart of Lion's Fall, as the honor guard of the king still remains - either as powerful vestigial spirits of dutiful service or some other eternal threat.
The Tower of Art. As a beacon to the heights of the Galasteri empire and an epithet of its potential coming demise, the Tower of Art hovers several hundred feet above Lion's Fall on a wandering course. Its enchantments are either affected by or even sustain the ashen storm below. Many sages, heroes, and fools have taken flight to retake the tower. None survived. Those who returned? Came as treasonous dead, hungry for their past loves' flesh.
The Lost Knight. Surviving travelers have shared tales of an arcane warrior among the wastes, granting silent aid before vanishing into the mist and ashen snow. Are they alive or undead? A mortal or a vestige spirit? Ashamed or emboldened by Lion's Fall, this ‘lost knight’ remains within the tainted land out of determination or madness. Rumors imply that this knight is growing ever stronger... But to what end?
Waylady Hadiri Braddock. Once a minor thorn in the Empire’s side, Waylady Braddock now finds herself at the center of imperial politics as the sole surviving wayholding within Lion's Fall. Both a veteran soldier and debauched epicure to distinguishment, the frank honesty and raucous revelry that once isolated her from her peers has now put her at the center of a war of attrition against the corruption of her land and of the Lohrian themselves. More or less trapped within the Empress’ inner circle, she rankles many as a very public critic of the Lohrian clan itself. She uses her fetes to raise funds and court new heroes for her war, even as rebels court her favor.
Heir-Apparent Khadijah Lohrian. Child of Savrias and Samira, Khadijah is the technical heir and presumed next Waylady of the Galasteri capital, with the strongest claim to the title of Mansa once they take the rites of age. Because of or in spite of this, the Empress has sealed them in a tower at the Braddock Garrison. This young sage and once-brilliant student of divination was stricken blind by the conflagration at the Lion’s Fall. Dark whispers claim that they’ve also been driven mad by the horrors of the magic they saw. Only the Empress is permitted to visit, and does so often by magical means. Whether she comes out of love, pity, duty, or fear? Only she knows.
Regional Practices
The beliefs and practices of the people of Lion's Fall remain, for the time being, those of their homelands and peoples. The Galasteri are the most numerous, with a smaller number of elvish communes lost on the eastern fringe. A hostile sort of collaboration drives these forces to collaborate in day-to-day affairs, but segregate when the fighting’s done, with one notable exception in recent years.
The Winter Guard. To counter the dire, depressing monochrome of Lion's Fall, teams of warriors, performers, and musicians have taken to dramatic displays of discipline, technique, and pride in their colors. The first ‘winter war’ ended in a melee of flags, poles, drums, and display weapons among the krewes, but this rivalry among militaries, mercenary bands, survivor militias, criminal enterprises, and even stranger sorts brings a little color to the gray.
Ballads in the Blood
People of many ancestries are drawn to or trapped within the Lion's Fall. In times of tragedy, all peoples suffer, though perhaps not equally. And anyone could become a savior.
Dwarf. The high clans of Ven Draria and other dwarfholds in the Bones fought fiercely against Savrias, and even now hold a great resentment towards him and his Empire. Hubris is the greatest sin, when one's own dignity becomes a deadly prison, or so they say.
Elf. The warriors of Elvenkind, especially the daev, are desperate to contain the physical and ecological damage of the Fall, before it spreads into the Old Wilds. Even worse, there's a fear of mutation. Some local elves loyal to the Empire often turn back to family in the face of what humanity has wrought.
Halfling. No rivers run through the wastes. Halflings come as individuals, but the Families have nearly written off the entire region. Heroes looking to write their name on history are in no short supply, but everyday halflings have better places to be. Usually.
Human. For better or for worse, the Lion's Fall belongs to a human majority and a human leader. The first victims of the Fall were also human settlements, with elven and half-elven minorities. Everyone turns to humans for answers, and turns against them with blame. But will it be up to humans to solve this, or should they look elsewhere for salvation?
Dragonborn. Very few dragonborn bother with the Lion's Fall - not because it is without value, but out of an almost twisted respect. Dragons mark the land with their presence. Even in death, Savrias has marked out a territory all his own. Who are they to gainsay his claim?
Gnome. The Concerns lead 'relief' efforts in the Fall, offering the most reasonable of inflated rates for goods. A number of native gnomes were financially ruined, and many cousins and colleagues support them. Gnomes are both loved and hated for once again making the most of a grim situation. As always, profit is the primary motive of the Concerns.
Half-Elf. Half-elves were a common sight in the region before the disaster. Now, they suffer as an underclass among even the desperate. A few proud nobles of Galasteri or Elvenkind affiliation stand in defense of all peoples, but even these heroes are cast into doubt by the open rebellion of Kovraza.
Half-Orc. Half-orcs are a rare sight in the Fall. The few that linger were likely loyal soldiers to Savrias, paid mercenaries, or their families. Suspicion and fear follows them, as if they might somehow still serve a ghost. A rare few, remembering his past heroic deeds, still do.
Tiefling. Nasty rumors are spreading that you can 'catch' tiefling in the Lion's Fall. This isn't true, but the surprising number of tieflings in the more racially diverse and blended region has led to the worst assumptions. Those who cannot leave the region are often left proving themselves on a daily basis to weary, wounded people. Wounds do not make us kind.
Ideal. The few Ideal native to the Lion's Fall have largely either died, fled, or have been driven into a strange spiritual madness by the rupture of the land. A few escape these symptoms, but others are left in the care of an already-overburdened Imperial bureaucracy.
Refined. New Refined find themselves at the fringes of the Fall every day. The Fall is one of few places where the roving bands of lesser Refined are even a known quantity. Whatever happened appears to have awakened something. What follows, who can say?
Places and Faces
Regional Practices
Ballads in the Blood
From the Ashes...
The Tower of Art looms over a broken land, once the breadbasket of the Dream. Beneath its pale marble face lie the bones of every blood and kind the Dream has known. Not the least of these deaths is the once-sterling reputation of Mansa Savrias of House Lohrian. This death still haunts the living with a question, one that lingers with its own ominous outcomes: who next to sit the Throne?
By Galasteri custom, claims to land and claims of title may be passed down separately. The Silver Lion Sarenna adopted Savrias as a young arcanist to serve as her heir to the title of Mansa. With it came the hand of her daughter Samira, who held claim to the capital of Galastaire and its many alliances, all dedicated to his dream of bettering the Dream for all peoples. Now, the Silver Lion holds crown and lands both in a tight grip, keeping them far from potential inheritors. Before she dies, she must pass her authority and her substantial holdings to one or more people, lest they fall to the strongest claim before the assembled waylords, ladies, and leaders of the Empire. Civil war would be inevitable.
Sarenna herself favored her half-orcish grandchild Thelwen for his cool temperament and hands-on approach, a warrior and leader of the willing like his adoptive father. Sadly, Thelwen was lost in the chaos of the final skirmishes of the war to stop construction of the emperor’s project. Eager to right his father’s wrongs, Thelwen’s courage and sense of duty only deepened the wounds felt by the end.
Savrias was rarely seen without his young seer Khadijah and the wild-eyed bastard Kovraza. Kovraza led her personal crownguard with cunning and loyalty, while Khadijah offered what few political insights she could, urging against the entire campaign from the start. Though still a child by custom at 15 years old, they cut an imposing figure and kept the worst of Savrias’ actions in check for a time. Thelwen’s death at the head of the Masked Knights, in open defiance of his father, proved too much for Savrias to bear.
Savrias took a final, dangerous gamble to end this conflict before any more lives were wasted. While his failure appears to have destroyed his very soul, both of his remaining children survived to suffer.
Khadijah is rumored to suffer an arcane madness, while Kovraza was badly burned by a ceaseless flame. Now, the returned empress Sarenna keeps Khadijah locked away and denied a rite of adulthood that would legitimize their claim to inherit crown and lands both. Until she’s assured, the Empress will die before allowing Khadijah to ascend, repeating the mistakes and tragedies of their parents.
Then there’s Kovraza. In the near fringes of the Old Wilds, this half-elf still loudly claims her paternal inheritance - the title of Mansa, lacking in wealth but great in influence. With it, she hopes to forge a holding of her own through oaths of fealty and conquests from her neighbors. Sarenna ignores her claim, insisting her true father remains in doubt. This dangerous lie has infuriated Kovraza and mocks the pride Savrias once held in her, ensuring a rift between the two that seems impossible to mend.
Will Khadijah be allowed to rise to their rightful place, despite the many scars of their past? Will the bastard daughter take her father’s spear and lodge it, as she’s promised, in her grandmother’s heart? Will the many wayholders and the Masked Knights complete their rebellion, and in the end, what would be left of Galastaire once the dust has settled? Muses wonder, for not even they know.
Perhaps you’ll help decide, in some small or grand way. As it stands, only further tragedy lies ahead.
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