Creation

In the middle of a sea of chaos exists one plane of existence. Anchored by the five Elemental Poles, the chaos pushes constantly upon the borders of existence, slowing eating away at the world. This world is Creation, and it is the Second Age of Man, the Age of Sorrows.   At the center of Creation lies the Blessed Isle, the gleaming heart of the greatest civilization known. The Realm’s decadent lords have dominated the world for seven centuries, laying it prostrate before their ambitions and appetites. Now their ageless Empress has vanished, and all eyes turn to her empty throne. Treasuries are emptied equipping armies and training assassins for the struggle to come.   Across the wide Inland Sea rests the immensity of the Threshold, those outer lands bounded by the Elemental Poles, round or centuries beneath the heel of the Realm’s legions and subjugated by its mighty sorcery. Cast your eyes to the outer Directions—   The South is bordered by the Pole of Fire and dominated by an immense, hungry desert where the ambitious seek lost cities and precious gems. Its temperate coast is crowded with wealthy trade cities, while its outer regions are a poorly-mapped welter of steaming jungles, pirate coves, smoking mountains, and ferocious savannas.   The Pole of Wood blesses the East with fecundity beyond reckoning. Here farmers bring in three harvests in a lean year, and a great confederation of river nations maintains defiance against the Realm’s hegemony. Closer to the purity of the Pole, rolling hills and fertile plains give way to thousands of miles of primeval forest in which dwell lost tribes ruled by men who walk as both gods and beasts.   Freezing winds sweep in from the Pole of Air, scouring the North. This harsh land produces strong people, animals, and iron, but poor crops. The Realm has long been the undisputed master of the Northern cities, but can make scant claim to the blizzard-wracked tundra; here canny nomads eke out a living through aiding and ancient pacts with patron spirits. Their worship buys protection from both the killing cold and he unchecked appetites of the Winter Folk and the restless dead.   To the West stretches the immensity of the Great Western Ocean, and beyond that, storied islands, strange gods, and exotic riches. Few ships are up to the voyage, and so the West remains shrouded in rumor and mystery. Even the Realm has only sporadic contact with its Western holdings. Legends proclaim that the Pole of Water rests somewhere beyond the farthest isle, where the sky touches the sea and the gates of the Underworld yawn wide.   All about Creation are the spirits of the world. Gods watch the fall of leaves and the wars of women and men. Elementals ride storms and shake the world with earthquakes. If spirits make a place sacred, then he entire world is holy land. Gods, elementals, and demons fill out the rolls of Creation’s divinities, each from different origins and each with disparate desires, save for a universal lust for prayer and propitiation. All have found their places within and apart from the world, and each guards its portfolio and cult.