The Commonlands

Once a thriving and contested heartland, the Commonlands have become a land divided—one side bent to the will of Overlord Lucan D’Lere, the other left to the slow creep of wilderness. Though they share the same vast, open sky and rolling grasslands, their fates could not be more different. The Western Commonlands are a realm of toil, sweat, and servitude, while the Eastern Commonlands are an expanse of emptiness, where only the wind and time continue their work.
Western Commonlands:
The Western Commonlands stretch endlessly beneath the shadow of Freeport, a land shaped not by nature, but by the will of Overlord Lucan D’Lere. Here, men and orcs alike work the vast plantations and farmland, their labor serving the city’s unyielding machine of war and commerce. The land is broken into great estates, each ruled by landed lords and merchant barons who swear fealty to Freeport and its master.
The roads are well-traveled but heavily patrolled, for slaves and conscripts often seek escape, and bandits lurk in the margins, preying on those who carry the Overlord’s wealth. Order is maintained through fear—armed enforcers, brutal overseers, and mercenary warbands ensure that the fields remain productive and that no hand rises against Freeport’s dominion.
Orcs, brought in chains generations ago, now till the land alongside human serfs, their warlike past beaten into submission—at least in the eyes of their masters. But beneath the surface, tensions simmer, and in the darkened corners of the fields, whispers of rebellion can sometimes be heard.
Eastern Commonlands:
The Eastern Commonlands are a land forgotten, a sparsely inhabited savannah where the grasses grow tall and the sun beats down without mercy. There are no great farms here, no roads bustling with traders—only the occasional wanderer, outcast, or nomadic beast moving across the wind-swept plains.
There is little reason to come here. The land is neither rich nor cursed, neither entirely safe nor particularly dangerous. What few creatures roam here do so without purpose—stray undead, wandering beasts, and remnants of long-forgotten outposts slowly being reclaimed by nature. To some, this makes it an ideal place to hide, though there is little to sustain those who do.
A handful of hermits and hunters eke out a living, and now and then, a rogue warband or a secret meeting of Freeport’s dissidents is rumored to take place beneath the sparse trees. 
Once united, the Commonlands have become two lands with two destinies: one bent beneath the weight of empire, its people driven to toil, its fields endless, and the other left to fade, a land without a master, without a purpose—just an empty space on the map, waiting to be forgotten.

Type

Savannah