Feodris

At a remote and uncharted corner of the multiverse, in the realmworld of Iotoros, the continent of Feodris is gearing up for a celebration.   For most of its long history, Feodris endured a never ending struggle between its four main kingdoms: the orcs, the dwarves, the elves, and the humans. These kingdoms fought border wars, battles of honor, civil wars, allegiance wars, cold wars, and skirmishes over control of resources or riches. Conquering emperors rose and fell, campaigns against so-called scourgefolk such as goblins, yuan-ti, and ogres were waged, and the kingdom borders waxed and waned along with the victories and defeats.   As these conflicts escalated and tensions increased, the fracturing of the kingdoms from each other and within themselves grew to the point where society splintered into thousands of relatively tiny clans, each deeply mistrustful of each other. The Clan Wars raged for decades, becoming ever more brutal, most of the origins for the divisions and the conflicts lost to endless cycles of vengeance and retaliation.   It was within this splintered political landscape that a mighty, malevolent force set into motion a coordinated plan to eradicate sentient life from the face of Feodris. A series of magical and natural disasters hit in quick succession, wiping entire towns and cities off the map. Targeted political assassinations wreaked havoc on the halls of power throughout every kingdom, and half-mad warlords suddenly wielding dark and powerful magicks filled power vacuums with their lust for blood and conquest. Powerful ancient dragons woke from their slumber to assault unsuspecting populations. And amidst all these other catastrophes, hordes of the undead rose up and swarmed into every city, village, and hamlet from Amryn Sheras to Mig Vebor and everywhere in between.   These events, which came to be known as The Collapse, started slowly, subtly, but with an escalating intensity such that before anyone even realized these events were connected and conducted by a single powerful entity, nearly 95% of all humanoid life had already been eradicated from Feodris. By the time the enemy had been identified—a force for evil, death, and chaos known only as The Profane—the sages and scholars declared it already too late to stop its malicious conquest. The population of Feodris cowered in fear, awaiting their final annihilation.   But then, slowly, tentatively, the survivors in hiding began to strike back. They used subterfuge, swiftness, and hit-and-run tactics to resist. Small, desperate cells of resistors gradually found each other and forged an underground network, coordinating strategies and sharing resources. The enemy they fought was largely unknown, and they were forced by the weight of the opposition's numbers to work in secret. They called this The Shadow War.   Despite their courageous efforts, however, The Shadow War was a lost cause. Early victories and territory reclaimed began to fade as The Profane redoubled their efforts to find and eradicate the last survivors. At last the remaining leaders of the four kingdoms met in an historic enclave. Feodrian spies and intelligence had located the seat of The Profane's power: a magically-constructed fortress in the Spire region known only as Nightsand Tower.   In an unprecedented display of cooperation and unity, each kingdom provided six of its mightiest and most renowned heroes, creating a strike force tasked with executing one last, desperate gambit: infiltrate Nightsand Tower, find the source of The Profane's vile power, and destroy it at any cost. The twenty-four members of the strike team called themselves the Towerband, and they set out on a mission many believed was suicide. As the swarms of shrouded Profane lieutenants and hordes of undead closed in on the few remaining survivors, Feodrians held their breath and prayed to the gods that had forsaken them for one final miracle.   And in the continent's darkest moment, a blast felt across all four corners of the land radiated out from Nightsand Tower, turning the land at the foot of the Tower to glass for miles in every direction. The undead fell to ash, the fearsome foes vanished, and the magical disturbances razing the countryside quieted.   Most of the Towerband did not survive. But those who did emerged from Nightsand Tower proclaiming a final and ultimate victory over the Profane. Their desperate plan had worked, and The Profane had been eradicated for good.   The Towerband took stock of the ruins of the world and determined that only the petty squabbles, pointless battles, and lack of respect for life had allowed The Profane to get such an undetected and unassailable foothold in the halls of power. They joined hands and sang a song of hope and mourning to the heavens, and magic infused the melody, coalescing into the Song of Harmony. The Song's central tenets were a new era of collaboration, cooperation, equality and respect. No more would each kingdom operate independently, they would be unified under the banner of The Song into a new governance: The Tower Kingdom.   The Song of Harmony codified the new laws of the land, created the ruling Tower Council, forbade war of any kind, and demanded an absolute and unwavering sanctity for all sentient life.   And it worked. With unnecessary death and violence strictly outlawed, work began to rebuild and repopulate. Slowly at first and then with an exponential speed, the Tower Kingdom began to flourish. Cities were repaired or relocated, kingdom lands were divided equitably, and the citizens' basic needs were provided for. Borders were opened, common languages and currencies were established, and generations of children were born and raised in a peaceful prosperity like none other Feodris had ever known.   Now, 98 years after the first singing of the Song of Harmony, Feodris is poised on the edge of a new era. Population numbers have returned to near pre-Collapse levels. The Tower Council is gearing up for a celebration of unparalleled grandeur and excess, a victory lap to proclaim the righteousness and efficacy of the tenets of the Tower Kingdom, and a final, official closing of the chapter on the hateful legacy of The Profane.   But while the Council in Nightsand Tower focuses on self-congratulations, not everything is quite so sunny in the keeps and villages across the land. The non-pillar kingdoms and races (those who are not Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, or Humans) grumble at their lack of representation and broken promises to grant them a voice at the Council table. The roads grow dangerous as once-omnipresent patrols from the Kingdom peacekeeping force—the Pillarguard—dwindle to occasionally, or rarely, or outright missing. Rumors swirl of restless dead, dark cults, gathering rebellions, and emboldened monsters striking from the Wilds and hunting vulnerable travelers.   Yet in this conflicted time, there is opportunity. Merchants need escorts, villages cry out for protection, many factions seek new recruits, and the wealthy dangle riches for those brave or desperate enough to dirty their hands with subterfuge and chicanery. Into this landscape boiling with a potent brew of hope, fear, celebration, and darkness, each of you wander, looking for purpose.   Welcome... to Feodris.