Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Chaos lies at the center of the earth.
The world spirals outward from the chaos, formed by it, shaped by it. Over many millennia, what was once a single super-continent has fractured into islands that whorl outward from the center. On the fringes, life is civilized, tamed. Humans and halflings live contented lives in great cities and idyllic farmlands. Protected by the Stoneclave, they sleep soundly knowing monsters are kept at bay by the dwarf and gnome lands that lie between them and the inner rings.
Elves populate this land as well, but they have no home here. As a nation, they have retreated to a far-off place, a hidden land, only accessible through magical portals that dot the Isles. Only those with fey lineage, be they elf, half-elf, or fey-kind, can pass through the gates. But those that can, pass freely between worlds, allowed to reach their birthright, while still maintaining a presence in the greater world.
But beware, even in the relatively peaceful outer rings, danger lies in wait. A great sprawling Underdark lies underneath the Isles, connected by deep caverns and underground seas. Here lie the drow, ancient enemies of the surface elves, who have been banished from the world of light. And even without the threat from below, this is still a world of monsters and magic. Where the land grows wild, one is sure to encounter monsters, ruins, and mysteries. And one never knows when one might encounter a dragon, for wyrms are not bound by seas, mountains, or borders.
Chaos lies at the center of the earth, and it is spreading.
