Cryx
When the Dragonfather Toruk first arrived on the shores
of the Scharde Islands, its people were ruled by thirteen
pirate kings who were among the most cunning, vicious, and
bloodthirsty mortals ever to ply the waters of the Meredius.
The Dragonfather gave them a choice: kneel before his majesty or be consumed by it. All but one of the pirate kings bowed their heads and offered their crowns, and with a gust of his terrible breath, Toruk remade them all into the first of his lich lords, the most powerful and ruthless of all his many undead servants. So began the Nightmare Empire of Cryx, where, as perhaps nowhere else on Caen, the rule of the Dragonfather is absolute. Toruk is not merely sovereign to the living and undead inhabitants of Cryx; he is their god, and the lich lords are his right hand.
The lich lords are always twelve in number, and when one falls, another rises to take its place. Aside from Lord Toruk himself, these terrifying beings wield ultimate power in Cryx. Beneath them churns a nightmare bureaucracy of undead and blighted horrors, including Satyxis, Trollkin, Ogrun, Gobbers, and Humans. Although few of the living residents of the Scharde Isles outside the capital city of Skell have been physically transformed by the touch of Toruk’s blight, none have escaped its effect entirely.
The nature of the Dragonfather taints the land as well as the people of the Nightmare Empire, and Cryx is a cruel place where predation is the rule—from the thick and choking vegetation of the realm’s many jungles to the back alleys and necrofactoriums of its few cities. Cryx’s coasts are dominated by steep cliffs that provide only a handful of sheltered inlets for ships to dock, and thorny rainforests blanket its shadowy interiors. For those foolish enough to attempt to explore the blighted islands of the Nightmare Empire, every step forward demands a price of sweat and blood.
Cryxian raiders have preyed upon ships and coastal settlements throughout the Iron Kingdoms for centuries, but in the years since the Claiming, the Dragonfather and his subjects have withdrawn to their islands to lick their wounds and regroup. Even though the Nightmare Empire has been quiet, few who dwell along the coasts breathe easily, and many still live in fear of seeing blackships on the horizon.
The Dragonfather gave them a choice: kneel before his majesty or be consumed by it. All but one of the pirate kings bowed their heads and offered their crowns, and with a gust of his terrible breath, Toruk remade them all into the first of his lich lords, the most powerful and ruthless of all his many undead servants. So began the Nightmare Empire of Cryx, where, as perhaps nowhere else on Caen, the rule of the Dragonfather is absolute. Toruk is not merely sovereign to the living and undead inhabitants of Cryx; he is their god, and the lich lords are his right hand.
The lich lords are always twelve in number, and when one falls, another rises to take its place. Aside from Lord Toruk himself, these terrifying beings wield ultimate power in Cryx. Beneath them churns a nightmare bureaucracy of undead and blighted horrors, including Satyxis, Trollkin, Ogrun, Gobbers, and Humans. Although few of the living residents of the Scharde Isles outside the capital city of Skell have been physically transformed by the touch of Toruk’s blight, none have escaped its effect entirely.
The nature of the Dragonfather taints the land as well as the people of the Nightmare Empire, and Cryx is a cruel place where predation is the rule—from the thick and choking vegetation of the realm’s many jungles to the back alleys and necrofactoriums of its few cities. Cryx’s coasts are dominated by steep cliffs that provide only a handful of sheltered inlets for ships to dock, and thorny rainforests blanket its shadowy interiors. For those foolish enough to attempt to explore the blighted islands of the Nightmare Empire, every step forward demands a price of sweat and blood.
Cryxian raiders have preyed upon ships and coastal settlements throughout the Iron Kingdoms for centuries, but in the years since the Claiming, the Dragonfather and his subjects have withdrawn to their islands to lick their wounds and regroup. Even though the Nightmare Empire has been quiet, few who dwell along the coasts breathe easily, and many still live in fear of seeing blackships on the horizon.
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