Arcem

The realm depicted here is but one of many that drift in the void of Uncreated Night. For those dwelling within it, the world is much as it ever was, scarred by the echoes of the Shattering but with sunlight, gravity, the passage of seasons, and all the customary elements of a world. Yet all educated souls know that this comfortable solidity melts away at the far borders of the realm, where the deep blue sea darkens to black and the light of the sun fails in the deepening gloom. Those poor fools who sail onward are doomed to fall away, drifting through Uncreated Night until desperate privation, foul abominations, or their own wretched despair sees them dead. Realms are fragile worlds. Each is a fragment of the world that was, and each suffers from the creeping decay of Heaven’s celestial engines. The bright configurations of glory that once maintained the law are broken now, too many savaged by divine scavengers, smashed by the Made Gods in their war, or crumbling without the care of their angelic maintainers. Some realms have collapsed into Uncreated Night once more, while most others find unnatural calamities raging across their hard-pressed lands.
The natives of this realm most often call it “Arcem”, after an old Patrian word for a place of refuge. Even the humblest peasant knows that it was greater once, that it was part of a vast and wondrous world with unnumbered marvels and unimaginable delights. But that was long ago, before the Shattering, and now the seas pour away in the darkness beyond the horizon and the people of Arcem are only a remnant of what was once great. For most natives, this is thing for philosophical regret. Most are too busy living their lives to concern themselves with the disasters of a thousand years ago. Do their nations not thrive in the present day? The technological marvels of the Bright Republic, the magnificent poetry of Vissio, the grand architecture of Patria and the timeless culture of Dulimbai to the south… are these not wonders enough for any man? The past is good for salvaging, for the ancient ruins have many treasures and wonders, but the present is best for living. Of course, things could always be better. True, there are stories of disasters in the hinterlands, of strange beasts creeping up from dark places, of curdled magic and vile wonders coming to pass in the cities of men, but there are more important things to concern the rulers than the talk of frightened peasants. What of the endless war between Patria and Dulimbai, or the depredations of the necromantic raiders of Ulstang, or the monstrous collapse of Ancalia and their doubtless-culpable magical experiments? These are the things that the rulers know and can see, and so these are the things that concern them. Yet the common people see what the great do not yet admit. Things are changing in Arcem, and not for the better. Every year there are more monsters emerging from the shadows, every year there are more inexplicable magical disasters and natural calamities. The celestial en- gines are running down, and if they collapse, Arcem will fall with them. For now, the people of Arcem are concerned with their own lives and the troubles they have always had. Soon enough, they may find new ones to overcome.